Why haven’t we built, or attempted to build, a space elevator?

For more than a century, the idea of a space elevator has belonged to the realm of science fiction: a colossal tether stretching from Earth into space, carrying cargo and people to orbit without the thunderous violence of rockets, their emissions, and residual debris.

Today, however, scientists and engineers increasingly argue that the concept is no longer fantasy. The real question may not be whether we can build one, or attempt building one, but why we haven’t even tried.

The modern concept of a space elevator is breathtakingly ambitious. A tether extending approximately 100,000 kilometres into space would remain anchored near Earth’s equator while balancing around geostationary orbit. Electrically powered climbers would ascend the structure, transporting satellites, supplies and eventually humans into orbit and beyond.

Studies conducted over the past two decades have concluded that the concept is scientifically plausible. Advances in materials science, particularly in graphene-based structures, have brought the once impossible closer to engineering reality. Yet, despite growing confidence in the physics, no nation, company or international consortium has committed to building, or to attempt building, humanity’s first space elevator. The obstacle may not be technological, but economic.

Estimates suggest that an initial space elevator system could cost between $15 billion and $100 billion depending on its capabilities. These figures sound astronomical until placed into context. The International Space Station, the most expensive structure ever built, cost roughly $150 billion. Global military expenditure exceeded $2.8 trillion in 2025. Humanity routinely funds megaprojects of extraordinary scale when political will and financial incentives align.

So why not a space elevator?

Part of the answer lies in how we think about value itself. Traditional financial models reward investments that produce predictable returns within relatively short time horizons. Investors discount distant future gains and penalise projects with significant uncertainty. A space elevator offers neither immediate profits nor low risk.

Construction could take decades. Technological hurdles remain. The benefits — cheaper access to space, orbital manufacturing, lunar logistics, space-based solar power and scientific advancement — would unfold over generations. In other words, a space elevator represents precisely the kind of transformational project that conventional finance struggles to support. There is another complication.

A space elevator resembles less a commercial product and more a public utility. Like highways, and ports, many of its greatest benefits would extend far beyond those paying directly to use it.

Economists describe these broad societal benefits as “public goods” — outcomes that private markets often underprovide because investors cannot capture their full value. History offers numerous examples. Railroads reshaped economies. Public investment helped create the internet. Government-backed space programmes enabled satellite navigation systems that billions now rely upon daily.

The challenge is that societies often struggle to invest in projects whose greatest rewards belong to future generations. This may reveal something deeper about civilisational priorities. Our financial systems excel at funding consumption, short-term growth and even war and conflict. Long-horizon investments aimed at expanding humanity’s capabilities often face much higher barriers.

A space elevator would fundamentally change humanity’s relationship with space. Unlike rockets, which expend enormous energy and resources with every launch, a space elevator could provide routine, electrically powered access to orbit. The implications would be profound.

Satellites could be deployed more cheaply and frequently. Space stations and lunar bases could receive regular supplies. New industries, currently constrained by launch costs, might flourish. The transition from occasional missions to a permanent, sustainable, and clean space economy could accelerate dramatically.

Naturally, none of the above guarantee success. A first attempt could fail and costs could escalate. Unforeseen technical challenges may emerge. But history suggests that transformative achievements rarely arrive without risk. When the first railways were proposed, critics dismissed them as impractical. Early aviation pioneers were ridiculed. Even the Apollo programme was viewed by many as an extravagant gamble. More recently, reusable commercial rockets were looked at with disbelief — now one of the foundational pillars of the largest IPO in history by SpaceX.

The space elevator may ultimately prove impossible, or it may become one of humanity’s defining infrastructures. But the most important question is no longer whether we possess the scientific knowledge to attempt it. Instead, we should ask whether our economic systems and our collective imagination are capable of investing in futures that extend beyond immediate cash flows.

If we can conceive of building a bridge to space, and increasingly possess the means to do so, perhaps the greatest challenge is not engineering. But a financial and monetary system that readily mobilises resources for activities associated with destruction, when returns are sufficiently certain, and hesitates to support humanity’s evolutionary advancement, when benefits are uncertain and lie far in the future.

Dr Armen V. Papazian is Visiting Associate Professor of Space Economics, American University in Dubai