Space · Tuesday, 14 July 2026
01 · Briefing · what happened
A NASA astronaut rode a Russian rocket to orbit today — while the two countries barely speak on Earth
Anil Menon launched to the space station on a Russian Soyuz this morning, a reminder that in orbit the US and Russia still keep each other alive — even as NASA drafts the rules for the private stations that will end the arrangement.
Key takeaways
- A NASA astronaut launched to the space station on a Russian rocket today, a reminder that the US and Russia still jointly run one machine in orbit even as they clash on Earth.
- That shared station retires around 2030, and NASA this week drafted the rules for the private, national stations meant to replace it — ending the arrangement that forced two rivals to cooperate.
- Reusable rockets are spreading: SpaceX flew one booster a record 36th time, and China recovered an orbital-class booster for the first time, openly aiming to break US dominance.
The last shared machine in the sky
This morning a NASA astronaut climbed into a Russian rocket. Anil Menon lifted off from Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan on Tuesday at 10:47 a.m. EDT, riding a Soyuz spacecraft alongside cosmonauts Pyotr Dubrov and Anna Kikina.
There is nothing routine about the geopolitics packed into that sentence. On the ground, Washington and Moscow are about as far apart as two capitals get. Two hundred and sixty miles up, they run a single machine together.
An arrangement with an expiry date
NASA has set 2030 as the retirement date for the ISS, with a likely two-year extension.
The back-and-forth behind that document matters. This spring NASA floated pulling away from standalone commercial stations, arguing the market wasn’t strong enough to sustain them.
Read together, the crew launch and the RFP are one story. The era of one shared station is ending, and a more independent, more commercial, more national era is being drafted to take its place.
The reusability race gets a second runner
The economics of all this rest on cheap launch, and cheap launch means flying the same rocket twice. Last week SpaceX flew a single Falcon 9 booster for a record-breaking 36th time, carrying 29 Starlink internet satellites to orbit.
For years, reusing an orbital rocket was something only SpaceX did. This week China closed the gap. On Friday a Long March 10B booster lifted off from Hainan, separated, and returned to land upright on a platform at sea — the country’s first successful recovery of an orbital-class rocket.
SpaceX, meanwhile, is pressing on with the rocket meant to make everything above look small. Starship Flight 13 is set for no earlier than Thursday, the second flight of the bigger “Version 3” design.
The money follows
The clearest read on where the industry thinks it’s heading came from Blue Origin. Jeff Bezos’s rocket company is reportedly opening to outside investment for the first time, seeking $10 billion at a $130 billion valuation.
The under-covered one: a photo of a rock that shadows Earth
Far from the launch pads, China’s Tianwen-2 probe — the country’s first asteroid-sampling mission — sent home the first close picture of its target.
Here’s the part worth holding. A 2024 study suggested Kamo’oalewa might be a chip of our own Moon, thrown off by an impact somewhere between 1 and 10 million years ago.
02 · Lesson · why it matters
Why rivals who share a machine keep each other alive
Cooperation between enemies is usually built by need, not goodwill — and it lasts exactly as long as the need does.
A NASA astronaut in a Russian seat
This morning an American strapped himself into a Russian rocket and trusted it with his life. His two crewmates were Russian, and they were flying up to a station whose other half is run by Americans. On the ground, their governments barely speak. Above it, they are colleagues who cannot afford to be anything else.
It’s easy to read that as a nice story about people rising above politics. It isn’t, quite. Look closer and the cooperation is not a triumph of good feeling. It is a piece of machinery.
The trust is in the wiring, not the hearts
The station is one machine split down the middle. The American side holds the labs and most of the power. The Russian side holds the engines that keep the whole thing from drifting down into the atmosphere. Pull either half out and the station dies.
So “cooperation” here doesn’t mean the two sides like each other. It means each is holding a rope the other is hanging from. Neither can let go without falling too. The trust you see isn’t a feeling anyone had to summon. It’s the shape of the wiring.
Need makes rivals behave like friends
This is how most cooperation between adversaries actually begins. Not with a change of heart — with a shared stake neither one can walk away from.
Two countries that trade too much to risk a war. A bitter couple who stay civil because they share a mortgage and a child. Neighbours who share a single well and so, whatever they think of each other, agree on how it gets used. In every case the behaviour of trust appears wherever the cost of betrayal lands hard on the betrayer too. Name that pattern and you start seeing it everywhere. A great deal of the peace around you is not affection. It is people who need each other.
Someone built the dependence on purpose
The interdependence up there was designed. When the station was assembled, no single nation was left holding all the essential pieces. The split was deliberate — a way to bolt rivals to the same outcome, so that quitting would hurt everyone at once.
The seat-swap you watched today is the same logic made routine: put each side’s people on the other’s vehicles, so neither can strand the other without stranding itself. It looks like a friendly crew rotation. It works more like a carefully balanced set of hostages. And it has held through years when almost nothing else between these two countries did.
And now the need is being dissolved
Here is what the rest of this week’s news means. The shared station is being wound down, and what comes next is separate — American commercial stations, other nations building their own. The whole point of the new era is that each side won’t need the other’s half anymore.
That is the quiet risk hiding inside the progress. The cooperation in orbit was never held up by goodwill; it was held up by need. Remove the need — give each rival its own way to stay in space — and you remove the reason to keep the peace along with it. Abundance can dissolve the very trust that scarcity forced into being.
What holds you is also what holds you together
We tend to admire independence — standing on your own, needing no one. But the same independence that frees you from a rival also frees you from the one reason you were careful with them.
The station overhead is a small, honest model of a larger truth. A lot of the peace we live inside rests not on people liking each other, but on their being unable to afford the alternative. You sit inside webs like that too — at your work, on your street, between the countries whose goods fill your home — mostly without noticing, and no single seat in any of them can see how much of its safety it owes to plain, unglamorous need. When those threads loosen, they rarely announce it. That is a reason to hold your certainties about who needs whom a little more loosely.
03 · Lab · your turn
The Shared Machine
Rehearse how the payoff of walking away from a rival flips as your need for them fades.
04 · Hope · carry this
For twenty-five years, two countries that could agree on almost nothing still kept each other's people breathing in a metal can 260 miles up. When humans genuinely need each other, they build a way to work together that outlasts nearly every reason not to.
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