Donald Trump’s Space Force, whatever it ends up becoming, brushes right up against the limits of science fiction, where images of interplanetary fleets are common. With a proposed budget of $8 billion over five years – relatively paltry, given the costs involved with space exploration, especially at military scale – it's more likely that whatever materialises in the real world will be more of a domestic defence shield than a star convoy.
Still, pop culture provides endless examples of how such an organisation might work. So if Trump were to take his policy cues from sci-fi, what might Space Force end up looking like?
One of the first that comes to mind is Star Wars, and with good reason. George Lucas' iconic science fantasy became synonymous with American space military ambitions as far back as 1983, when Ronald Reagan outlined similar-sounding plans to Trump’s Space Force. Reagan's plans for the Strategic Defense Initiative were borne out of Cold War paranoia, with the former president calling "upon the scientific community" to "give us the means of rendering these nuclear weapons impotent and obsolete." However, opponents derided the idea, calling them "reckless Star Wars schemes". The name stuck, robbing the plan of credibility.
Largely intended as a missile shield for Earth-based threats, the SDI earned its nickname for its sometimes overt similarities to George Lucas' original trilogy, including laser weaponry intended to shoot down incoming missiles. It also investigated the potential for installations such as orbital weapons platforms, drawing inevitable links to the Death Star. While comparisons to the Galactic Empire's authoritarian rule are an easy leap to take for some when looking at Trump's administration, the real influence we can see from Star Wars is that the USA's Space Force would almost certainly be seeking to establish military superiority in space above all else.
However, like the SDI, Space Force may fall afoul of the Outer Space Treaty in this respect. Signatories, of which America is one, are barred from placing weapons of mass destruction in orbit, which could limit Trump's plans. Any country which did escalate weaponisation of space could risk reigniting the Cold War tensions that led to Reagan's speech.
While there's a chance a US Space Force could stoke an escalation of arms – especially since the only other country to have a space branch is Russia – Trump's pitch to his US base is more likely intended to evoke an almost cartoonish patriotism. Fitting, then, that when vice president Mike Pence announced the plans, he described the branch as an "elite group of war fighters specialising in the domain of space".
That's essentially the pitch for Starcom: The US Space Force, a 1980s animated series which saw an American military branch operating in near-Earth orbit, piloting advanced jets and fighting off the alien Shadow Force. While obvious fantasy, and designed to shift a line of toys, this romanticised the idea of US forces in space, painting the country as unquestioned good guys fighting a generic, evil enemy.
The problem is, the real life threats of space, whether it's matters of hypothetical first contact or early warning systems for asteroid risks, warrant international cooperation, rather than nation states striking out into the cosmos one by one. This is something that science fiction as a genre has recognised from its earliest days, with planetary fleets – rather than nationalism – far more common.
One of the first and best examples of this is author E.E. 'Doc' Smith's Lensman series. The grandfather of modern sci-fi, the pulp series was hugely influential, defining many of the conventions of speculative fiction to come. First published in serialised form in the magazine Astounding Stories, the Lensman books largely follow the founders and members of the Galactic Patrol. While its main active agents, the eponymous Lensmen, are gifted with a mysterious but powerful tool known as a lens by an elder race of the universe known as the Arisians (directly influencing the Green Lantern mythos), the Patrol itself is a meticulously envisioned interplanetary military and police force.
On the policing side, the Galactic Patrol has station houses dotted across two galaxies, with Lensman operatives investigating crimes on colonies, space stations, and alien worlds. The space police idea has inspired its own sub-genre of sci-fi, from Gerry Anderson's Space Precinct to large parts of The Expanse, and such detective work will likely be necessary as humanity establishes real world colonies is our solar system.
It's the military side that bears closer examination for any real Space Force though, and there's a curious overlap with the Galactic Patrol and Trump's America. Smith envisioned a low-tax future – the highest bracket was only 3.592 per cent – but the Patrol, on Earth alone, was said to be ten billion credits, about one-tenth of planetary GDP. Here in reality, Trump's tax plan has been debated endlessly for lowering caps on the richest, while in 2017, US military spending was $590bn, accounting for 15 per cent of the federal budget. There's a clear similarity in how the budget is allocated towards defence spending, with the Patrol eventually fielding a Grand Fleet comprised of around 80 million ships. Given the USA already has the third-largest active military force on Earth (outnumbered only by India and China) and is the biggest spender on its military, the sheer size of the Galactic Patrol is likely to be an aspiration.
Of course, the gold standard for futuristic space-based organisations is the United Federation of Planets, as envisioned by Gene Roddenberry for Star Trek. Although the Federation as an institution is closer to the European Union or United Nations in structure – a grouping of planetary governments retaining some individual autonomy while still operating under a shared central government for the purposes of exploration, scientific development, trade, and knowledge sharing – it also sees constituent cultures coming together to create a singular defence fleet.
That would be Starfleet, and although largely exploratory in nature, it doubled-up as the extended military arm for the Federation. It's also the organisation we've seen most structure for, from its Earth-based Starfleet Academy training up new recruits to its naval-inspired command structure, and the various classes and purposes of starships.
The academy serves as a potential model for hypothetical Space Force recruits, although Trek's version is far more than a boot camp – it's more of an advanced university, where cadets major in subjects such as advanced theoretical physics, exoarchaeology, and xenolinguistics. The best real world comparison at present is Nasa, where astronaut candidates must possess a degree in engineering, biological science, physical science, computer science or mathematics, plus a minimum of three years related professional experience or 1,000 hours pilot-in-command time on jet aircraft. They must also be able to pass Nasa's gruelling physical training. However, Nasa, like Starfleet, is scientifically minded – would such stringent requirements be upheld in Trump's Space Force, or despite Pence's claims on announcement, would it eventually descend to simply wanting soldiers in space?
That's perhaps the biggest distinction between Trump's Space Force and Starfleet – purpose. Roddenberry's vision for Star Trek as a whole is that of a utopia, where not only have individual cultures on Earth put their differences aside and united under one banner, but so have countless worlds across the galaxy. The primary purpose of Starfleet is peace and diplomacy, rather than expansionism or political dominance. Starfleet ships are armed, and it even has dedicated war ships – notably in the much darker Deep Space Nine – but the focus is nearly always on research vessels.
Across a large swathe of science fiction, the recurring theme of any space force is that they only tend to exist when the cultures of Earth – and sometimes those further afield – come together. There's almost a shared recognition that there's no real point for single nations to have space navies, for the simple reason that there's no one to fight. Even where individual countries do form one, the tendency is to have them braced against alien threats, rather than ones from Earth.
Perhaps Trump's plans for a Space Force will remain as fanciful as the fictional fleets that the name conjures up. It may never amount to much more than a reshuffling of the existing Air Force Space Command, which currently falls under the remit of the US Air Force. If the current plans do progress to actual space fighters though, let’s hope it's more Starfleet than Galactic Empire.
This article is part of our WIRED on Space series. From the global fight over how we handle first contact with aliens to the endless search for dark matter and the inside story of China's top-secret space ambitions, we're taking an in-depth look at humanity's future amongst the stars.
The unending hunt for Planet Nine, our solar system's hidden world
Elon Musk's Moon mission and the depressing near-future of space
The almighty tussle over whether we should talk to aliens or not
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This article was originally published by WIRED UK
