Forty years ago kids assumed that when they grew up they’d fly to Mars. They didn’t expect to find a world that was too scared to turn on a lightbulb.
Forty years ago kids assumed that when they grew up they’d fly to Mars. They didn’t expect to find a world that was too scared to turn on a lightbulb. Our timidity owes itself to the failure of science to devise impressive new large-scale pieces of kit. Every breakthrough these days takes place at the micro, nano and millimetric level, while up at the mega end nothing new has appeared since the jet. Space rockets are just a refinement of ballistics technology. Apollo 11 was a firework. The Shuttle is a reuseable firework. And even that seems to have run out of gunpowder. This technological deficit has engendered a loss of faith in science.
The spirit of hope that filled boys’ minds with astronautical dreams in the 1960s has given way to a cult of fear and defeat which at its most intense becomes a masochistic lust for disaster, a titillated yearning for doom and Armageddon.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in