Triumph and tragedy in space
Authors: Inder M. Verma
Journal: Molecular Therapy (2003)

My Thoughts are Stitched to the Stars—John Lilly Roger, and then silence. The space shuttle Columbia broke up on the morning of Saturday, February 1, 2003, around 6:00 a.m. Pacific Standard Time—a mere 40 miles above Earth—just as it roared into the upper atmosphere at a speed of some 12,500 miles an hour. “Their mission was almost complete and we lost them so close to home. The men and women of Columbia had journeyed more than 6 million miles and were minutes away from arrival and reunion,” said the President of the United States of America in sharing his grief and sorrow with the nation and indeed the whole world. For the 16 days that the shuttle was in orbit, I doubt if many Americans took much notice. After all, lift-off and landing of the shuttle, transferring cargo to the space station, servicing the Hubble telescope, and routine trouble-shooting in space by astronauts has become almost routine. Since the Challenger tragedy in 1986, NASA has had smooth sailing, with dozens of successful missions producing valuable knowledge—such as the effects of gravity on human physiology. Most importantly, the space program has lifted our spirits, let our imaginations soar, and reaffirmed our pride in the undaunted courage of humans to take enormous risks. No doubt, we will plunge with gusto into the usual post-catastrophe ritual of investigations and incriminations. Like the famous “O”-rings of the shuttle Challenger, loose tiles and icy foam are already prime suspects. Old memos from NASA officials warning about shuttle design, the aging fleet, the lack of funding, etc. are daily headlines, and local TV anchors naively ask the experts why we couldn't use better quality tiles. There is renewed discussion of ending manned space missions because they have become obsolete. Some have suggested that the Columbia disaster is more than a set back, but rather that it marks the end of the whole space shuttle program. That would be regrettable. It is true, however, that in the 30 years since the last humans walked the moon, nobody has ventured more than 300 miles above the Earth's surface. Almost the entire payoff from space travel, whether practical or scientific—such as storm tracking, global positioning or cosmology— has come from unmanned vehicles and satellites. NASA needs manned space flights to keep people and politicians interested, but would need a mix of satellites and robots to wander the outer solar system to explore the icy moons of Jupiter. Basic research without obvious profitable applications has always been hard to sell. When Faraday first demonstrated electricity, Prime Minister Gladstone was said to mock the idea by asking, “Good God, what will you do with it?” Faraday politely answered, “Sir, we will sell it and you will tax it!” One of scientists’ toughest jobs is inspiring and educating the public of the value of basic science. The human genome project has raised the consciousness and curiosity of the lay public, which in turn has led the administration and politicians to make greater investment in human health. Like space, however, new modalities of medicine engender new risks. Routine and well researched medicine or medical devices can unexpectedly turn lethal, which gives us pause and uncertainty, but is not grounds for stopping our search for new cures. We cannot expect easy practical spin offs from all human curiosity and creativity. Several decades ago, when physicist Robert Wilson was seeking money for a high-energy particle accelerator, one doubtful U.S. senator asked him how the project would contribute to national defense. “It has nothing to do with defending our country,” Wilson generously conceded, “except to make it worth defending.” I for one hope for a manned travel to Mars in my lifetime!