But I don't think we'll go there until we go back to the moon

The words of Jack Schmitt, “But I don't think we'll go there until we go back to the moon and develop a technology base for living and working and transporting ourselves through space,” echo with the gravitas of a prophet gazing at the horizon of human endeavor. He speaks not of fantasy, but of the deliberate, patient work required to make humanity a species capable of venturing beyond its cradle. The moon, once a distant and ethereal dream, becomes in his vision a laboratory, a proving ground where technology and human resilience intertwine, forging the tools for journeys that will one day stretch to the stars.

The origin of this reflection lies in Schmitt’s life as an astronaut, geologist, and participant in the Apollo missions. Having walked upon the lunar surface, he understood intimately that space is not conquered by imagination alone, but by preparation, experimentation, and the careful construction of a foundation. He emphasizes that before humanity can explore the farther reaches—Mars, the asteroid belt, or beyond—a technology base must be established: a set of systems for living, working, and transporting ourselves safely through the void.

History offers compelling parallels. Consider the age of maritime exploration in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Sailors could not simply wish to reach distant lands; they first built harbors, mapped coastlines, developed navigational tools, and trained crews. Only with this foundation did the voyages of Columbus, Magellan, and da Gama become possible. Schmitt’s words remind us that the moon is our harbor, the first step in mastering the greater journey of space exploration.

Even within the Apollo program itself, the lesson is evident. Landing on the moon was not merely a symbolic act; it was a crucible for technology, logistics, and human endurance. Habitats, lunar modules, oxygen systems, and transport vehicles were all tested in the harsh environment of another world. These innovations laid the groundwork for further ventures, demonstrating that exploration is a stepwise process, where each milestone builds the technology base necessary for the next leap.

Schmitt’s insight carries profound meaning: ambition alone is insufficient. Human beings may dream of distant worlds, but those dreams require preparation, systems, and technological mastery. To go further, to remain longer, and to thrive beyond our home planet, we must invest now in infrastructure, research, and learning on the moon. Only by mastering near-space environments can we hope to sustain life in the vast and unforgiving reaches of the cosmos.

The lesson is timeless: every great journey begins with the creation of a foundation. Whether in exploration, scholarship, or personal growth, the first step is often to build, test, and strengthen the systems that will sustain future endeavors. Vision without preparation is folly; ambition without infrastructure is fleeting. Schmitt calls us to embrace both imagination and discipline, so that the extraordinary becomes achievable.

Practical action is clear. Support initiatives that develop lunar habitats, propulsion systems, and life-support technology. Invest in education, research, and collaboration in space sciences. Consider every local action—engineering projects, scientific inquiry, or technological development—as part of the scaffolding for humanity’s future among the stars. Prepare, experiment, and strengthen the foundation, so that the next generation may walk boldly where no one has gone before.

Thus, let Jack Schmitt’s words echo through the annals of time: we will not journey beyond until we first return to the moon and establish a technology base for survival and travel. May we honor this wisdom by building, testing, and imagining responsibly, forging the path from Earth to the heavens, ensuring that when humanity steps forth, it does so not recklessly, but with mastery, courage, and enduring vision.