COLUMN: Musk Abandons Mars for the Moon: When the Space Dream Turns into Brutal Pragmatism

A goal that’s still being touted, but is becoming less and less credible

Yet Musk hasn’t officially given up on Mars. “SpaceX will strive to build a city on Mars and begin doing so in about five to seven years,” he asserts. “SpaceX’s mission remains the same: to extend consciousness and life as we know it to the stars.” These words ring hollow, as experts remain skeptical. “Elon Musk’s plan to colonize Mars is too ambitious,” says one specialist. “The technological, logistical, and financial challenges are immense.” Especially since SpaceX is racking up delays: the Starship spacecraft, meant to carry the first Martian colonists, has yet to prove its reliability. “Tests are increasing, but so are the failures,” notes an engineer. “And every failure pushes the deadline back a little further.” Worse still: NASA itself has doubts. “The lunar lander developed by SpaceX for Artemis isn’t ready,” internal sources reveal. “Which could give the Chinese space program an advantage.” An admission of helplessness that contrasts with Musk’s triumphant statements. “Mars remains our ultimate goal,” he repeats. But today, no one really believes it anymore. Not even him.

I think about those statements. Those promises. Those five to seven years
that sound like a litany. Like an incantation. Like a way to reassure oneself. To reassure shareholders. To reassure fans. But I tell myself: no one believes it. Not even Musk. Because Mars, today, is no longer a goal. It’s an alibi. An alibi to justify the fact that we took the easy way out. That we chose the Moon. That we chose not to take risks. Because Mars is hard. It’s a long haul. It’s expensive. It’s dangerous. And Musk, these days, doesn’t want any of that. He wants something fast
. Something simple
. Something that gets media attention
. He wants launches every ten days. He wants a lunar city in less than ten years. He wants results. Results he can show off. Results he can sell. Results he can tweet about. And Mars—well, Mars doesn’t allow for that. Mars is the unknown. It’s the possibility of failure. It’s a dream that could shatter. So he pushes it aside. He sets it aside. He tucks it away in a drawer. Waiting for better days. Waiting for the technology to be ready. Waiting for the world to be ready. Waiting for himself to be ready. Ready to take the risk. Ready to face failure. Ready to be the one who dared. But today, he isn’t. Today, he chooses the Moon. Because the Moon is safe. It’s risk-free. It’s failure-free. And that is the worst defeat of all: choosing safety over the dream.

A Necessary Step or a Red Herring

SpaceX presents this shift as a winning strategy. “The Moon will serve as a realistic testing ground for all the technologies essential for Mars,” the company explains. “Energy production, pressurized structures, closed-loop water and oxygen systems, management of abrasive dust, extraction of local resources, autonomous robotics, radiation protection… All of this can be tested on the Moon before being deployed on Mars.” This argument appeals to part of the scientific community. “It’s a pragmatic approach,” acknowledges an astrophysicist. “The Moon allows us to validate concepts at a lower cost and with less risk.” However, others are speaking out, calling it a red herring. “The Moon and Mars are completely different,” emphasizes an expert. “The conditions are radically different: gravity, atmosphere, temperature, distance… Technologies validated on the Moon won’t necessarily be transferable to Mars.” Worse still: some see it as a diversionary tactic. “Musk knows that Mars is out of reach for now,” accuses a former NASA employee. “So he’s inventing an intermediate step to save face.”

I think about this justification. About the idea that the Moon is a laboratory
. A testing ground
. A necessary step
. And I tell myself: maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s the only way to do it. Maybe it’s the only way to move forward without losing everything. But I wonder: is that really the reason? Or is it just a way of saying: we won’t make it
? A way of saying: Mars is too hard
? A way of saying: we’ve failed
? Because the Moon, today, is no longer a stepping stone. It’s a way out. A way to back down without looking like we’re backing down. A way of saying, “We’re moving forward
,” when in reality, we’re going in circles. We’re going in circles around Earth. Around what we already know. Around what we’ve already mastered. And Mars—it’s still there. Far away. Unreachable. Untouchable. Like a dream we no longer dare to touch. Like a promise we no longer dare to make. Because the Moon is reassuring. It’s familiar. It’s under control. It’s a safe ground where we’re sure not to make a mistake. Where we’re sure not to fail. Where we’re sure not to disappoint. And that is the worst kind of betrayal: preferring the safety of the known to the boldness of the unknown. Preferring the ease of the Moon to the challenge of Mars. Preferring the comfort of the present to the adventure of the future.

When China and the United States Dictate Strategy

Musk’s about-face also comes amid a tense geopolitical climate. “China is making great strides toward the Moon,” warns a NASA report. “Beijing plans to send taikonauts there by 2030 and build an international lunar base.” This is a threat the United States cannot ignore. “We cannot let China dominate the cis-lunar space,” says a senior NASA official. “The Moon is a matter of sovereignty.” In this context, SpaceX has no choice: it must fall in line. “Musk has realized that without Washington’s support, he could never finance a mission to Mars,” an expert explains. “So he’s playing along. He’s following the U.S. strategy. He’s betting on the Moon.” A choice that also suits Donald Trump, who has made the Moon a top priority. “Getting Americans back to the Moon by 2028 is a political goal,” notes an observer. “And Musk, for his part, needs NASA contracts.” The result: Mars takes a back seat. “It’s a matter of priorities,” sums up a source close to SpaceX. “And today, the priority is not to lose the Moon.”

I think about this competition. This race. This fear of losing. And I tell myself: this is what space exploration becomes when it’s no longer guided by science, by dreams, by adventure. When it’s guided by politics
. By strategy
. By fear
. Because Musk, today, is no longer racing toward Mars. He’s racing toward the Moon. Not because he believes in it. But because he’s afraid. Afraid of losing to China. Afraid of disappointing Washington. Afraid of not being on the right side. So he chooses. He chooses the Moon. He chooses the contracts. He chooses security. And Mars? It remains there. Far away. Unreachable. Like a dream we’ve abandoned. Like a promise we’ve betrayed. Because today, space is no longer a frontier. It’s no longer a realm of freedom. It’s no longer a place where we explore for the sake of exploring. Where we dream for the sake of dreaming. Where we dare for the sake of daring. Today, space is a battlefield. A geopolitical stake. A arena where we fight not to lose. Where we fight to be first. Where we fight to please politicians. And that is the end of the space adventure. The end of the idea that space was the future. That space was hope. That space was freedom. Today, space is fear. The fear of losing. The fear of not being fast enough. The fear of not being strong enough. And that is the worst defeat of all: turning exploration into a competition. Turning dreams into calculations. Turning boldness into caution.

When Reality Catches Up with Science Fiction

Behind the triumphant announcements, the reality is much bleaker. Starship, the spacecraft meant to take humans to Mars, is rife with delays and failures. “Tests are multiplying, but so are the problems,” says an engineer. “Reliability is lacking.” Worse still: costs are skyrocketing. “Each launch costs hundreds of millions of dollars,” reveals an internal report. “And each failure costs just as much.” As a result, SpaceX must scale back its ambitions. “We can’t afford to waste resources on a project as uncertain as Mars,” admits an executive. “The Moon is a safer investment.” An admission that speaks volumes about the true state of space technology. “We’re still a long way from a viable Martian colony,” says an expert. “The challenges are immense: radiation, a thin atmosphere, extreme temperatures, distance… Not to mention psychological isolation.” So, is Mars still a realistic goal? “In the long term, yes,” replies Musk. “But today, we have to focus on what’s feasible.” A response that sounds like an admission of helplessness.

I think about these challenges. These failures. These costs. These delays. And I tell myself: this is what a project becomes when it collides with reality. When it collides with the laws of physics. With the limits of technology. With budget constraints. Because Musk, today, no longer speaks of conquest
. He speaks of feasibility
. He no longer speaks of dreams
. He speaks of costs
. He no longer talks about adventure
. He talks about profitability
. And that marks the end of something. The end of the idea that space was a frontier to be pushed back. A territory to be explored. A dream to be realized. Today, space is a business
. An investment
. A calculation
. And Mars doesn’t fit into that calculation. Because Mars is too expensive. Too far away. Too risky. So we put it off. We set it aside. We tuck it away in a drawer. Waiting for better days. Waiting for the technology to be ready. Waiting for the world to be ready. Waiting for us to be ready. Ready to take the risk. Ready to face failure. Ready to be the ones who dare. But today, we’re not. Today, we choose the Moon. Because the Moon is safe. It’s risk-free. It’s failure-proof. And that is the worst kind of defeat: choosing safety over daring. Choosing the known over the unknown. Choosing the present over the future.

A Precarious Balance

So, what does the future hold for SpaceX? The Moon first, then Mars, Musk repeats. “We’re going to build a self-sustaining city on the Moon in less than ten years, and then we’ll turn our attention to Mars.” It’s a scenario that appeals to investors, who are reassured by more realistic goals. “This is good news for shareholders,” notes one analyst. “The Moon is a safer, faster, and more profitable market.” Yet some are concerned. “What if SpaceX loses its way along the way?” asks an expert. “What if the Moon becomes an end in itself? What if Mars becomes nothing more than a distant memory?” Musk brushes these fears aside. “Our mission remains the same: to extend life to the stars,” he insists. “The Moon is just a stepping stone.” Yet today, no one really believes in that stepping stone anymore. No one really believes anymore that Mars will ever be a priority. Because the Moon is now. It’s tangible. It’s in the news. And Mars is tomorrow. It’s uncertain. It’s risky. So we put it off. We set it aside. We tuck it away in a drawer. Waiting for better days. Waiting for the world to be ready. Waiting for us to be ready. Ready to take the risk. Ready to face failure. Ready to be the ones who dare. But today, we’re not. Today, we choose the Moon. Because the Moon is certain. It’s risk-free. It’s failure-proof. And that’s the end of the dream.

I’m ending this article thinking about that future. About that precarious balance. About the Moon becoming an end in itself. And I find myself thinking: Maybe Musk is right. Maybe the Moon is the only way forward. Maybe it’s the only way not to lose everything. Maybe it’s the only way to keep Mars alive, if only in our rhetoric. But I wonder: will that be enough? Will the Moon, one day, truly lead us to Mars? Or will it be nothing more than a decoy? Just a way out? Just a way of saying, “We tried
,” when in reality, we never really dared? Because Mars, today, is no longer a goal. It’s a promise. A promise we make to reassure ourselves. To reassure others. To keep hope alive. But promises aren’t enough. We need action. We need courage. We need boldness. And today, SpaceX no longer has it. Today, SpaceX is taking the easy way out. Today, SpaceX is choosing the Moon. And that marks the end of an era. The end of a dream. The end of the idea that space was a frontier to be pushed back. A territory to be explored. A future to build. Today, space is a business. A calculation. A strategy. And Mars, in this strategy, no longer has a place. So I choose to believe. To believe that the Moon is just a stepping stone. To believe that Mars remains the goal. To believe that, one day, SpaceX will dare to dream again. Will dare to take risks again. Will dare to be the one pushing the limits again. Because without that—without that dream, without that madness—space will be nothing more than a playground for politicians and businesspeople. And that wouldn’t be a victory. It would be a defeat. The defeat of boldness. The defeat of adventure. The defeat of hope.

When Pragmatism Stifles Ambition

So Elon Musk has made his choice: the Moon before Mars. A pragmatic, realistic—perhaps even necessary—decision. “We have to focus on what’s feasible,” he repeats. “The Moon is an essential step.” ” Yet this announcement sounds like an admission—an admission that Mars, for now, is too far away. Too expensive. Too risky. Too uncertain. “We’ll get there,” Musk promises. “But not right away.” So, is Mars still a achievable dream? “In the long term, yes,” say the optimists. “But today, we have to be realistic.” An answer that sums it all up. Because today, SpaceX no longer dreams. SpaceX calculates. SpaceX optimizes. SpaceX chooses the safest path. And that marks the end of something. The end of that madness that thrilled the crowds. That made people believe the impossible was within reach. Today, SpaceX has become just like the rest. Just another player in the space race. A player who follows the rules. Who plays by the book. Who doesn’t take risks. And Mars? It remains there. Far away. Unreachable. Like a dream we’ve tucked away in a drawer. Waiting for better days. Waiting for the world to be ready. Waiting for us to be ready. Ready to dare. Ready to fail. Ready to be the ones who push the boundaries. But today, we’re not. Today, we’re choosing the Moon. Because the Moon is safe. It’s risk-free. It’s failure-proof. And that is the worst kind of defeat: choosing safety over the dream.

I don’t know what the future holds for SpaceX. I don’t know if Musk will ever manage to build his lunar city. I don’t know if Mars will remain an unfulfilled dream forever. But I know one thing: today, something has been extinguished. Today, the dream has taken a step back. Today, boldness has faltered. And that is a tragedy. Not for SpaceX. Not for Musk. But for all of us. For those who believed that space was still a frontier. For those who believed that Mars was still possible. For those who believed that, sometimes, dreams were worth pursuing. Even when they seem crazy. Even when they seem impossible. Even when they seem too expensive. Because without these dreams, without this madness, without this boldness, we are nothing more than managers. Calculators. Businesspeople. We are no longer explorers. We are no longer pioneers. We are no longer those who dare to believe that the impossible is within reach. So today, I choose to regret. To regret this dream. To regret that madness. To regret that era when Mars was still a promise. When space was still an adventure. When the future was still a frontier to push back. Because without that—without that spark, without that madness—we are nothing more than spectators. Consumers. People who look at the stars and say to themselves: one day, perhaps
. But who no longer do anything to make that day happen. And that is not a victory. It is not progress. It is a defeat. The defeat of hope. The defeat of boldness. The defeat of humanity.

Signed, Jacques Provost