January 21, 2025 - 10:00am

Of all the striking things about Donald Trump’s second inaugural address, one line stuck out. Wedged between a threat to take over the Panama Canal and a panegyric to American history, the new president told his audience that “we will pursue our manifest destiny into the stars, launching American astronauts to plant the Stars and Stripes on the planet Mars.”

It’s unclear whether Trump intends to actually send American astronauts to Mars. One presumes it won’t happen within the next four years. The constituency for funding space travel to Mars is not a large one, and for that reason alone it may not happen within our lifetime.

Yet Trump delivered the line with a straight face. No one laughed. Pundits barely mocked him for making the claim. Indeed, most commentators did not say anything about it at all. Granted, Trump has an uneven record with truth and keeping promises; but the fact is that everyone could imagine America sending men to Mars.

Turning the question around, how many world leaders can you imagine saying something like this right now with a straight face, and without universal mockery? It is possible to envisage Xi Jinping, whose country has already built a space station and is planning a manned mission to the Moon by 2030, wanting to plant the Chinese flag on Mars before the Americans as a display of national vitality.

It is just about possible to picture Narendra Modi, whose country has a thriving space programme, promising something similar — though given India’s general level of development, it would be widely viewed as somewhat wasteful. Vladimir Putin could conceivably say it given his country’s record in human spaceflight, though few could imagine Russia, in its diminished form, pulling it off.

By contrast, it is utterly impossible to imagine Keir Starmer, or indeed any British leader, saying something like this without being met with overwhelming mockery and derision. That’s because no one can imagine Britain going to Mars, or to any other planet.

The United Kingdom has the dubious distinction of being the first and only country in history to have developed then given up on an indigenous satellite launch capability. Most writers date the end of the UK as a great power by referring either to Suez or decolonisation. Yet 1971, when the nation decided it was too poor to afford a piece of cutting-edge technology which is today held by the likes of Iran and North Korea, seems as good a date as any.

What about Europe? The European Space Agency can launch satellites on mostly French-made rockets. In the aggregate, European Union member states technically have the industrial capacity for launching crewed space missions. Yet the idea of European astronauts on Mars seems almost as ludicrous as that of a British Mars base.

The ESA does have astronauts; but they go into space by hitchhiking on American platforms. Either way, it is very difficult to conceive of a political union whose highest aspiration seems to be to remain a “regulatory superpower” taking mankind where it has never set foot before.

On the day of Trump’s inauguration, it was reported that UK Chancellor Rachel Reeves is preparing to publicly support the construction of a third runway at Heathrow, a project first proposed in 2003 which has been mired in politics and legal challenges since. In the context of British politics, this is what passes for genuine ambition. But a country that cannot build an additional runway for its largest international airport is not a country that will go to Mars or, frankly, anywhere else.


Yuan Yi Zhu is an academic and writer.

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