Thomas Zurbuchen served as NASA’s head of science from 2016 to 2022. He is now a professor and director of ETH Zurich | Space in Switzerland. He previously served on the Knight-Wallace advisory board.
It was June of 2022, and I was in a windowless room at the Space Telescope Science Institute near Baltimore with a handful of people who, like me, shared responsibility for running the world’s biggest, newest space telescope. The instrument had started working a few months earlier, after it completed a sequence of deployment maneuvers that seemed miraculous to anyone who understood the complexity of the operations.
The moment seemed to dilate time. A handful of stars spangled the foreground and behind them: near cosmic infinity. Thousands of galaxies studded an inky celestial well, a gathering of shapes and colors contained within a patch of space no bigger than a dust grain on an outstretched hand.
The photons from those galaxies had traveled through the universe at the speed of light for many billions of years before they collided with this new eye in the sky — our ultimate miracle mission, the James Webb Space Telescope.
Three years later, the dreams and aspirations surrounding that mission have been obscured by nightmares and worries. NASA’s science portfolio is facing its steepest cuts in decades. The proposed cuts in science for 2026 are 47% of the current budget with an overall proposed budget reduction from the current $1.5 billion to $487 million in 2026, the largest reduction in NASA history. The cuts would terminate 19 active science missions, including New Horizons, which has been exploring space beyond Pluto for nearly 20 years, plus a host of missions exploring Earth and all new astrophysics missions currently in development.
In response, I joined with the six other living former NASA heads of science in a joint letter to Congress opposing the cuts. It read in part:
“As former associate administrators responsible for managing NASA’s science activities, we know firsthand the incredible talent and capability that our country has built and sustained in the space sciences and engineering over nearly seven decades, and the severe consequences such an indiscriminate cut would impose on the extraordinary U.S. accomplishments and future initiatives.”
Never let a good challenge go to waste.
For this, and every other challenge we face, we must redirect our anxieties. How can we turn our current challenges into long-term strength? I have two observations that may help us move forward.
First, in times of geopolitical stress, astrophysics can look like a luxury. After public lectures, I am often asked: Why fund space science when people struggle to meet basic needs? My answer is simple: History shows that cutting fundamental science means losing out on the technologies and industries that drive growth, security and resilience. Science is about unlocking opportunities for tomorrow and solving problems we don’t even know yet.
Second, big science depends on unsung heroes. Every Webb image rests on decades of effort by instrument builders, engineers, project scientists and managers who solved the hardest problems long before the first data arrived. Yet our system mainly rewards those who publish results, not those who build the tools that make discovery possible. That imbalance must change for the community to be healthy and prosperous.
Astrophysics and journalism may seem far apart, but they share this truth: moments of challenge are also moments of opportunity.
Now is the time to act. We must step out of our academic bubble and engage policymakers, industry and the public with a broader message: not just about wonder, but about the tools and capabilities that keep nations secure and economies strong. And within our own community, we must value not only the visionaries but also the builders. The future depends on both.
This lesson is not unique to science. During my time on the board of the Knight-Wallace Fellowships, I saw how journalism too is navigating crises of trust and sustainability. In times of polarization, journalists have been cast as “enemies of the people,” and within the profession, attention often gravitates to big investigations at major outlets, while essential local and community journalism struggles to survive. Like science, journalism must both engage broader communities and confront its own feedback loops that can undervalue crucial, less visible work.
Astrophysics and journalism may seem far apart, but they share this truth: moments of challenge are also moments of opportunity. If we recognize and support not just the headline-makers but also the builders — whether they are telescope engineers or local reporters — we create resilience. And from resilience comes the possibility of renewal and of new opportunities.
This article is part of Rising to Meet the Moment, a series from the Fall 2025 issue of the Wallace House Journal, featuring reflections from Knight-Wallace alumni, Wallace House board members and the Livingston Awards community on meeting today’s challenges with focus, resilience and resolve. Read more stories from our series:
Christopher Baxter, “Unexpected hope“
Lynette Clemetson, “Stepping up with focus and resolve“
Hayes Ferguson, “Nurturing innovation, adaptability and purpose“
Stephen Henderson, “Choosing civility“
Samantha Henry, “The future of our profession: student journalism“
Tracy Jan, “News deserts and fewer watchdogs“
Margaret Low, “Game Over? Not a chance“
Peggy Lowe, “Defunded, but not defeated“
Amy Maestas, “Building trust through community collaborations“
Kunal Majumder, “Defending the right to report“
Seema Mehta, “Why we keep reporting“
Rachel Rohr, “Swift action for the hardest hit“
Gerard Ryle, “We will not retreat“
Laura Santhanam, “Preserving knowledge“
Mazin Sidahmed and Maria Arce, “Training newsrooms to serve immigrant communities“
Celeste Watkins-Hayes, “Bending without breaking: resilience in academia“
Thomas Zurbuchen, “Never let a good challenge go to waste“
