Upward: The Lunar Covenant

November 21, 2024

It begins with a simple truth: once our feet press into lunar dust, the idea of “territory” will no longer be terrestrial. Up there, where the Earth is but a luminous sphere suspended in infinite darkness, the lines we once drew on maps will fade into irrelevance. The moon, this desolate yet inviting orb, will become a proving ground—not for national prowess or the relentless propagation of Earthly divisions, but for something profound: a planetary consciousness.

Imagine it. An international colony on the moon, a true United Nations in form and spirit, founded not on the zero-sum games of sovereignty but on the shared acknowledgement of a single, unifying identity: Earth people. The very act of being there, breathing and building under the stark lunar sky, could mark the moment when humanity transcends its provincialism for the first time.


The Lunar Grid


For centuries, the Cartesian grid of longitude and latitude has shaped how we navigate Earth. These lines—mere abstractions of geometry—became tools of conquest, commerce, and communication. They dictated the boundaries of empires and the borders of states, often at the expense of unity. But the moon calls for a new dimension, a new line of orientation: up.

This new direction will not simply stretch between the Earth and its satellite. It will reorient our sense of belonging. Up will not be a direction on a map but a tether to our shared origins, a reminder that the lunar soil beneath our boots is no one’s property but everyone’s opportunity. From there, humanity might finally see itself as a single organism, unified by its fragility and potential.


Citizens of the Moon


The colony I envision is not an extension of Earth’s nations but a convergence of its people. Every country, race, religion, and culture is represented—not in competition but in collaboration. Scientists will work tirelessly to adapt human life to a hostile environment, theologians will gaze at Earth’s splendour to reimagine divinity, and philosophers will contemplate existence in the light of two worlds.

What will we call this place? Not a nation, for nations, are divisions. Not a state, for states, are constructs of power. This will be a covenant, a collective agreement that life on the moon exists to remind those on Earth of their shared inheritance. In this lunar colony’s assembly hall, humanity’s diversity will be its banner, and its mission will be simple yet transformative: to hold Earth accountable as its steward and guardian.


A Shift in Resources, A Shift in Perspective


The resources required to build this colony are already available—trapped in the budgets of defence ministries and the arsenals of militaries. Imagine if these billions were redirected, not toward war or domination, but toward the creation of a planetary NASA. A collaborative space agency where engineers from Iran sit beside those from the United States, where Chinese scientists innovate alongside Europeans, and where every nation has a stake—not in ownership, but in stewardship.

The moon’s colony would serve as a constant reminder of what we could achieve if we abandoned the folly of conflict. The spectacle of humanity working together on such a monumental scale could extinguish the fear of Armageddon, not through deterrence, but through inspiration.


Theological and Philosophical Horizons


When theologians stand on the moon and behold Earth as a fragile blue marble, how will they reconcile their doctrines with this newfound perspective? Will they see a planet created by their God or a planet that makes them question what creation truly means? And what of the phenomenologists? On the moon, free from the constraints of Earth’s rhythms, their meditations on perception and existence might reveal truths that could not be conceived within terrestrial limits.

The moon, barren though it may seem, will become fertile ground for ideas. It will be a place where science and spirituality coexist, where philosophy and practicality converge, and where the human mind expands as its feet tread new soil.


Guardians of the Solar System


A lunar colony with no territorial claims, no flags but one—Earth’s. Its existence will remind us of our precarious yet precious position in the universe. From that vantage, the solar system will not be an expanse to conquer but a neighbourhood to nurture.

What begins as a colony on the moon could become humanity’s first step toward guardianship of the solar system. We will learn not to extract but to protect, not to divide but to unite. The moon, devoid of life, will teach us to value the life we have on Earth.


Toward the Covenant


The moon calls us—not as a prize to be won but as a mirror to reflect what we could become. The colony will not merely be a home for those who live there but a constant beacon to those who remain below. It will remind us of a simple truth we often forget: we are one species, bound by one planet and entrusted with the care of a shared future.

The first step onto the moon was a small one for a man. The first colony will be a giant leap for humanity—not toward dominion, but toward unity. Upward, then, not as conquerors, but as Earth people.

Upward, to become guardians of the solar system and stewards of our fragile world. Upward, to find the best version of ourselves.


The Swirl of Coffee and Questions

November 21, 2024

I was having coffee with a friend who happens to be a teacher. I watched the steam spiral as my companion clinked her spoon against the porcelain, stirring her cup absently. As these coffee conversations do, we meandered from the mundane to the metaphysical. From the internet we went to the meaning of life. My friend has a knack for asking the right questions at the right time.

“So, tell me – what’s the point of it all?” she asked as she gazed through the cafe window where a woman passed by pushing a pram.

“I don’t know. When I die, when you die, my and your senses are dead, so we’re not here. So much for the factual world,” I replied, trying to remember which philosopher said something like that.

She smiled and, looking directly into my eyes, replied, “But you believe in reincarnation, don’t you? Isn’t that laden with purpose?”

I shrugged, “Sure it’s romantic to believe in some kind of afterlife. But, look around – does this scream purpose to you?”

She brushed her hair away from her forehead then her eyes wandered to the window again. A street performer decided to stand in front of the window and perform some clumsy juggling.

“Religion tries to make sense of it all,” I pressed on, “But even the high priests of science kneel before an empty throne. Their emptiness includes weirdo quarks, quantum realms and even god-particles – they say forces beyond our comprehension. It kinda sounds poetic that Tao dances in the heart of the matter, even beautiful. But sacred? No way.”

Her brow furrowed. “So science is the new religion?”

I leaned in, gesturing toward the phone lying between us. “No, not science. Scientism. It replaces reverence with results, mystery with measurability, quality with quantity.” I picked up the phone, “And it’s not just the gadgets.” My voice softened, “It’s the mindset: sharp edges, hard lines, reducing everything – life, death, the cosmos itself – to equations and particles. Even love is written off as a bunch of chemicals sloshing in the brain.” I shook my head, placing the phone on the table. “Wow, what are we left with?”

Her silence invited me to continue.

“Don’t you see?” my voice quickening. “We’re told we’re nothing but the products of chemical accidents on a spinning rock around a Type G star. What is prayer? It’s just some sound waves pushing through the air. Yep, random collisions of chemicals over the millenniums mutated into creatures who love, create, play and pray. OK, the ancient gods may have been illusions, but at least they offered dignity. What does scientism give us? Purpose replaced by algorithms, reverence and a sense of the sacred by replicable results.”

I stopped and leant back in my chair. Took another sip of my coffee. Her hands folded, her expression thoughtful. “But isn’t technology also liberating. It connects us and makes life easier.”

“Ah,” I said, raising a finger. “I love what science has given us. Science didn’t just discover miracles; it made them. Instead of AD – as our way of marking history, I would like to see AP – After Penicillin. I love that technology has freed us from chores. But that freedom might also free us from the planet. No, not sending seed ships on interplanetary and galactic colonization trips. I mean a final liberation – our extinction.”

Now, I was on a roll. I couldn’t stop the impetus of my talking, “Science didn’t just explain lightning; it gave us bombs more destructive than Zeus’s wrath. It replaced the sacred with equations, prayer with noise, and purpose with randomness.”

She frowned and looked at her near-empty cup of coffee. “You make it sound hopeless.”

“Maybe it is,” I admitted. “Scientism is a product of rigid thinking and religious fundamentalism has the same rigidity. You know – dogma in robes and dogma in lab coats. The kind of thinking that says it has the answers but does not know how to listen.”

She studied me for a long moment. “So what’s your solution?”

I smiled, took another sip of my coffee and looked out the window at the juggler. “I don’t know if there is a solution. Maybe we don’t need one. Maybe we just need to live without demanding it be solved. To sit with the questions, like we’re doing now.”

She chuckled softly. “Sounds like you just reinvented faith.”

I laughed. “Maybe, but I like to see scientists do a bit of Zen Koan thinking. You know, like wonder what is the sound of one hand clapping and have their logic scrambled just for a short while.”

What’s left for us, I asked my friend, when both gods and reason fail? My coffee had gone cold by then. The swirling depths had disappeared, as had the steam. But the question lingered, unanswered.

And maybe that’s all it ever will be—a question.