In February, a tweet by Rep. Mike Turner created national news and panic around a possible new Russian on-orbit nuclear anti-satellite weapon. In the following weeks, senior Biden administration officials responded publicly to provide context, answer Americans’ burning questions, and soothe anxieties. The national security advisor spoke on National Public Radio confirming the assessment that Russians were developing this capability. Then-Assistant Secretary of Defense for Space Policy John Plumb testified publicly before Congress on the potential effects of such a weapon in space. Another senior official speaking at a public think tank event assuaged fears, explaining that this was “not an active capability that has already been deployed,” nor would it be used to “attack humans or cause structural damage on Earth.” But one voice — a voice in which the American public is very interested — remained silent. That was the voice of the U.S. Space Force, and this was a missed opportunity for them to reach everyday Americans.
Space Force leaders face a monumental challenge in establishing, manning, and resourcing a new service. This challenge requires explaining the service’s purpose and contribution to national security, basically telling its story. A strong narrative allows a service to attract the right people, with the right skills and motivation. It helps retain them and inspire them to excellence. It helps convince Congress to provide the financial resources and innovative authorities required for its core missions.
The Space Force has a self-acknowledged public awareness problem and this year, for the first time, the service’s annual budget will dip. Space Force guardians should use the spotlight from real world events — like this story — to educate the public and advocate for resources. Instead, its leadership did not immediately step forward and even declined interviews on its development of counterspace capabilities.
We can’t know why guardians actually chose to stay silent. Senior civilian leaders may have told the military service to hold back, or the service may have self-censored. If the former is true, these civilian leaders have erred. The Space Force desperately needs that national platform, and its leadership has proven their ability to thread the needle in speaking on sensitive issues. Furthermore, it’s normal for service chiefs to address the public on the threat environment. For example, the Army Chief of Staff recently addressed the public through a think tank event about AUKUS. While AUKUS has become a politicized, highly publicized topic, Gen. Randy George used the platform to discuss the Army’s priorities and their value in the joint fight. However, if the Space Force self-censored, that indicates that the service is still suffering from risk averse tendencies inherited from the military space community of the past. The service should find a way to tell its story, which it can and must do within the confines of civilian leadership instruction. Civilian leaders need to pass the mic, and the service should readily and willingly take it.
In a recent report, I conclude that the service fell short of telling this story in its first three years, under its first chief of space operations, Gen. Jay Raymond. Now, the service is four-and-a-half years old. It spent much of the last roughly 18 months instituting lessons from the first three years under the leadership of Raymond’s successor, Gen. B. Chance Saltzman. It has refined its purpose internally and aligned structures, processes, training, and rhetoric with that purpose. The service now has a clearer message and has acknowledged its shortcomings in reaching critical audiences, but work remains to be done. The Space Force should account for public sentiment toward the military and space, capitalize on the current events, and channel its budding professional culture to reach its target audiences and relay its crucial role in national defense. Some guardians have tired of answering the question “what is the Space Force?” and wish to sequester themselves away to “do the work.” But no service is ever done speaking to the people, especially not one with so much ground to make up in the realm of public support.
Early Iterations of a Story
Russia also made international headlines in November 2021 with a dangerous anti-satellite test. Then also, the Space Force stayed silent. At that time, the service was two years old and guardian leadership was understandably focused on setting up the service, rather than speaking to the public. The service was still grappling with how to understand and package its highly technical, often intangible mission in traditional military terms and concepts.
A mature organization ideally has clearly defined, mission-derived values and refined structures, practices, and a culture bolstering those values, but the nascent Space Force was still conceptualizing its mission and establishing structures and practices, and so its self-image was similarly under construction. Still, three early themes rose to the surface: agility, innovation, and a warfighting spirit.
The simplest ideal — agility — was well defined, drawing from the service’s inherent structural feature (its small size) and the nature of the threat (the near-instantaneous effects of actions in the space). In contrast, the ideal of innovation was too broadly defined, encompassing every aspect of high technology and deviation from the traditional military “way of doing things.” It also supported the public’s unfortunate association of this unfamiliar service with science fiction — an association that early Space Force decisions, intentionally or not, encouraged.
The ideal of warfighting was integral to early advocacy for the service’s independence, but the terms “warfighting domain” and “warfighter” subsequently declined in use. Unlike agility and innovation, the ideal of warfighting draws similarities between the Space Force and its fellow military services. Balancing on the tightrope of doing things differently but maintaining the argument for their independent status was critical for the first few years as the service weathered an administration change and faced potential disestablishment. Additionally, this waffling stemmed in part from a tension between the need to garner public support by discussing the threat and the space community’s historical reticence to lift veils of classification on that threat.
A Stronger Story
Saltzman took the helm at the end of 2022. By this time, Raymond had established the service’s bones. Saltzman could therefore go about the business of refining its structure, processes, and identity.
Under his leadership, the service has published several institutional artifacts, including a Guardian Spirit Handbook; a new mission statement; a theory of success; a Commercial Space Strategy; over two dozen concept notes; and, most recently, Space Force 101, a primer on the service’s purpose, organization, missions, culture, and symbology. The service has successfully reorganized components and created new ones. It has secured authorities to manage talent and acquisition to suit its mission. Guardian leadership has testified on the Hill and spoken at various think tank engagements, and even to Hollywood executives.
Through these artifacts and appearances, a more cohesive, assured voice emerged from the service, and the Space Force’s strategic narrative has evolved. Occasionally more explicit and specific discussion of U.S. counterspace missions has replaced the insistence on a “warfighter” identity. For example, the 2020 Space Force Capstone includes some permutation of the term 40 times, while Space Force 101, released this July, uses the term only once. This shift deftly sidesteps the lightning-rod question “how can a guardian be a warfighter if they face no personal risk” and skips to what matters — a guardian’s contribution to the joint fight in which every U.S. military service combines their capabilities and skills to deter and defeat adversaries across domains. Setting aside this debate should allow a unique, organic culture to develop as guardians train on and execute their missions without a somewhat divisive moniker dictated from above. Discussion of U.S. counterspace missions could be more explicit. Saltzman’s competitive endurance theory of success pulls some punches. Its discussion of counterspace focuses on addressing irresponsible adversary action in the domain, rather than making the case for denying an adversary the benefit of space. Space Force 101 treads similarly carefully. This choice may reflect policy guidance, but a recent call for “space fires” may indicate that policy is slowly loosening.
The service also refined the ideal of innovation. It doesn’t just mean inserting automation everywhere or buying the most bleeding-edge, exquisite technology at every turn. Often the innovation discussed today comes in the form of human capital and bureaucratic solutions.
A new theme has also emerged: professionalism. The Space Force will be a young service for a long time, but it has reached a new stage of maturity. In its beginning, ideals of agility and innovation conjured an image of a scrappy service making do with what it had, doing more with less. As service rhetoric evolved under Saltzman, that scrappy image morphed, at least aspirationally, into something more professional, “institutionalized,” and akin to a traditional military service. This shift evokes a seriousness that befits the service’s serious mission and serious budgetary needs. This theme also contrasts with sillier sci-fi allusions of the recent past and stands in for some of the soberness previously communicated by the term warfighter.
That seriousness and institutionalization comes into a healthy tension with the ways the service differentiates itself — agile systems, a willingness to experiment with unorthodox methods, and a tolerance for failure. The service story shines best when it appeals to service, pride, tirelessness, creativity, deep technical knowledge, and personal responsibility. It suffers when it relies on goofy pop science fiction references and individualism.
The Results
Is this new narrative working? Public opinion, recruitment, and resourcing offer a partial answer.
It is hard to measure public awareness or public opinion. Concerningly, the Defense Department’s market research organization reported that Space Force’s brand recognition among its target audience was at 4 percent in 2024. Still, in the midst of a recruitment crisis, the Space Force has always met its (albeit small) manpower requirements. The scant public polling data on public opinions about space show that interest in exploration has decreased in light of dire conditions on earth. For this reason, early Space Force ads that appealed to the awe-inspiring nature of space may have missed the mark. More recent ads that focus on the identity of a prospective guardian (“are you a square peg trying to fit into a round hole?”) and drive to serve may work better.
Congressional willingness to provide funding and authorities could be an indicator of understanding, but these decisions depend on many more factors than a service’s storytelling. This year, for the first time, the Space Force budget request dipped. This is in part because of tough trades the Department of Defense made under the constraints of the Fiscal Responsibility Act. The overall departmental budget request of $850 billion represents a 1 percent decrease in real dollars from the previous request, while the Space Force request for $29.4 billion represents a 4 percent decrease. The House markup slashed $323 million from the Space Force request, in the form of a temporarily curtailed GPSIIIF program (buying 1 instead of 2 satellites). This cut was due not to a shortcoming in messaging, but rather to the Space Force’s struggle with launch timelines. Other proposed cuts came from research and development. Compared to the other services, the Space Force invests a disproportionate part of its budget (consistently over 50 percent) in research and development, but even with these cuts, the service would have its largest research and development budget to date. Space watchers fret about the budget, but their concerns center on outyear projections that don’t sufficiently fund current projects. This belies more about trades than what Congress is willing to give. House and Senate markups support the Space Force’s requested increase in authorized active-duty numbers to reach an end strength of 9,800 (for those concerned about growth — the service would still be only one-twentieth the size of the Marine Corps, the next largest service).
One area of contention on the Hill indicates room for growth. End strength numbers could increase further depending on how many Air National Guard members consent to transfer to the Space Force and become active-duty guardians under a controversial Department of the Air Force proposal. This approach, radically different from the traditional model, could save money, allow guardians easier transition between part- and full-time status, and help the Space Force compete with the private sector for talent. However, the proposal has riled up Guard advocates and governors, and these constituencies have gained ground on the Hill. The service is losing this information battle, and greater public awareness and favor might have made a difference.
Seizing on the Battles Ahead
Justin Johnson argued in 2021 that the Space Force should worry less about public relations and more about delivering results. Saltzman expressed a similar sentiment, writing that he was tired of talking about the service’s “why” and was ready to talk about its “how.” Yet Saltzman clearly recognizes the importance of speaking to the public. Indeed the service requested $18 million for marketing “to establish the Space Force as a known, credible, and critical military entity.” But where will that money go? In its efforts to garner public attention through expensive marketing campaigns, the service should ensure that they are designed not only to capture the audience’s interest but also to relay the service’s strategic message and display their budding culture. In addition to these campaigns, service leaders should speak directly to issues already on the minds of the American public in a timely fashion. As military space experts, guardians should seize on national headlines and join the chorus providing context and answering questions. Additionally, civilian leadership should identify opportunities to pass Space Force the mic. Air Force Secretary Frank Kendall has a great asset in Space Force leadership. They are serious and non-partisan space operators and technical experts with years of experience who are passionate about rectifying their public image. The service has made strides in developing and institutionalizing a narrative that suits its threat environment, missions, and organizational constraints. Now it needs to continue the work of communicating that identity to America.
Hannah Dennis recently left the Center for a New American Security, where she was a research associate in the Defense Program and authored Space to Grow: Foundational Opportunities and Challenges for the U.S. Space Force.
Image: Tech. Sgt. Robert Barnett
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