There is this tempting idea, it sounds like the future, like a new beginning, like shining rockets and clean solutions: If Earth becomes too crowded, too hot, too complicated – then we’ll just go somewhere else.
To the Moon.
To Mars.
Or even a bit further, just to be safe.
One almost wants to laugh. If it weren’t so sad.
While NASA sends its Artemis II mission into space, four people on a journey around the Moon, we celebrate ourselves again. Technology! Progress! Humanity! Big words, big gestures. And underneath? A surprisingly small thought: that our earthly problems can simply be shaken off like dust from our shoes.
As if the climate crisis could simply be left behind like forgotten luggage at the gate.
As if wars, inequality, hunger and political short-sightedness couldn’t fly along.
Of course – the rocket takes off. At least that works. It breaks through the atmosphere, cuts through the sky, disappears into the blackness of space. A triumphant moment. For a few minutes everything feels possible. Weightlessness as a metaphor for moral relief.
But what exactly is actually flying away?
Not our responsibility.
Not our failures.
Not our complacency.
Those stay obediently here.
It is this almost touching belief that technology could replace what is lacking in political will. That engineering fills the gaps left by societal courage. That a new spaceship must serve because we have never taken the old problems seriously enough.
One could say: We prefer to build rockets rather than solutions.
That sounds harsh. But unfortunately it is quite close to reality.
Because while billions flow into programs that bring us closer to the moon again, we grow apart on Earth. While precision, planning, and international cooperation reign above, chaos, selfishness, and the famous “carry on” often rule below.
And yes, space travel fascinates. It inspires. It shows what is possible when people work together, when knowledge counts, when determination meets vision.
But it replaces nothing.
It does not replace climate policy.
Nor social justice.
Nor smart, long-term responsibility.
The idea that one could solve this planet’s problems on its moon is not only naive. It is dangerous. Because it seduces one to neglect the here and now. It lulls you to sleep. It tells the beautiful story of the second attempt, instead of finally taking the first seriously.
The moon is no refuge.
Mars is no emergency exit.
Both are, despite all fascination, lifeless places. Silent. Cold. Merciless. Places where humans only survive if they control every detail. Ironically, exactly what we could already do on Earth – if we only wanted to.
But we don’t want to. Or not enough. Or not together.
Instead, we look up and say: Maybe it will be better there. Maybe it will work on the Moon or even on the next planet. Maybe, maybe.
Honestly? That’s not progress. That’s escapism in high-tech packaging.
A bit like setting your own house on fire and at the same time looking through real estate ads on another continent.
The Artemis II mission undoubtedly marks a technical milestone. It shows how far we have come. And maybe also how far we have drifted away – from the insight that progress is more than distance.
Progress does not mean flying further and further away.
Progress means getting better where you are.
And yes, that sounds less spectacular. No rocket launches. No heroic images. No countdown making the world hold its breath.
Just work.
Just responsibility.
Just reality.
Pretty unsexy, I know.
But that is precisely the real challenge of our time. Not flying to the Moon, but dealing with the Earth. Not escaping, but staying. Not avoiding, but enduring – and changing.
The truth is uncomfortable: There is no Planet B to save us if we continue to treat Planet A the way we have so far.
And maybe we should finally understand exactly that before the next rocket launches.
Before we applaud again.
Before we hope again that we can achieve in heaven what we cannot achieve on the ground.
The moon will not save us.
At most, it will reflect to us how small we have become in our expectations of ourselves.
A commentary by C. Hatty