
It would be sad if the expertise built up during the 40 years of
It would be sad if the expertise built up during the 40 years of the U.S. and Russian manned programmes were allowed to dissipate. But abandoning the shuttle, and committing to new launch vehicles and propulsion systems, is actually a prerequisite for a vibrant manned programme.






Martin Rees, the Astronomer Royal and a voice who often binds science with vision, once spoke with both sorrow and resolve: “It would be sad if the expertise built up during the 40 years of the U.S. and Russian manned programmes were allowed to dissipate. But abandoning the shuttle, and committing to new launch vehicles and propulsion systems, is actually a prerequisite for a vibrant manned programme.” In these words, he captures a timeless truth—that the treasures of the past must be honored, but they must not chain us. For knowledge is sacred, yet progress requires courage to leave behind what has grown old, so that the path to greater heights may open.
The origin of this reflection lies in the closing era of the Space Shuttle programme, when humanity stood at a crossroads. For four decades, both the United States and Russia had carried men and women into the heavens with machines that became symbols of national pride and human daring. Yet, as Rees reminds us, these vehicles, however noble, could not be eternal. To cling to them out of nostalgia would be to stagnate. To let their expertise fade would be tragic; but to transform that expertise into new engines, new vessels, and new dreams was the true way forward.
History itself testifies to this rhythm of honoring and abandoning. Consider the ancient triremes of Athens, ships that once ruled the Aegean and defended democracy at Salamis. For a time, they were unmatched marvels of naval power. Yet clinging to them too long, when newer designs emerged, left Athens vulnerable, its glory dimmed. The lesson of history is echoed in Rees’s warning: the tools of yesterday, however magnificent, must one day be laid aside, lest they become the shackles of tomorrow.
In more recent memory, we may look to the Wright brothers, who first took flight with fragile wooden machines, their canvas wings trembling in the wind. These creations opened the skies, but no one would suggest clinging to them when the age of steel aircraft and jet propulsion dawned. To abandon the fragile flyer was not betrayal—it was fulfillment. In the same way, to move beyond the Shuttle is not to diminish it, but to let its legacy be the seed of something greater.
The deeper meaning of Rees’s words is this: that true progress requires both gratitude and courage. Gratitude for the sacrifices, the lessons, and the expertise gained through decades of endeavor; courage to risk new paths that seem uncertain, untested, and dangerous. Without gratitude, we become reckless, despising the wisdom of those who came before. Without courage, we become stagnant, clutching relics while the stars remain forever beyond our reach. Rees calls us to hold both—honor the 40 years of manned programmes, but dare to stride into the unknown with new machines and new ambition.
The lesson, O children of tomorrow, is that every field of human endeavor—whether in science, art, or governance—must face this choice. You will build expertise, you will craft tools, you will grow attached to methods that have served you well. But you must not let attachment blind you. The future demands renewal, and sometimes renewal requires the painful act of leaving behind what once seemed eternal. To mourn the loss is natural, but to move forward is essential.
Practical wisdom follows: in your own life, when you reach the end of a season, honor what has been gained, but do not fear to set it aside. Do not let the comfort of the familiar prevent the birth of the extraordinary. Whether in careers, in relationships, in personal growth, or in great endeavors like spaceflight, let the wisdom of the past be the foundation, not the prison. Commit to new launch vehicles—in whatever form they may take—so that your journey may continue with vitality.
Thus Martin Rees’s words endure as both elegy and command: do not let expertise dissipate, but do not be afraid to abandon the old in order to reach for the new. For only in this balance shall humanity’s manned programme—not merely in space, but in every realm of aspiration—remain vibrant, daring, and worthy of the stars.
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