Why French astronauts don’t get the same hero treatment as in the US or UK

Five weeks after French astronaut Sophie Adenot blasted off for a nine-month mission on the International Space Station, a small, laminated sign was tied to the fence at her former primary school in Nièvre. 

Crudely made on a Word doc, it featured her name and photo beside a brief caption: “Ancienne élève de 1988 à 1992. Astronaute française. Partie en mission dans les étoiles pour nous faire rêver.”

Elsewhere in town, reaction to this local girl-turned-space superstar has also been understated. 

A handful of businesses sport similar handmade signs behind their counters, the bookshop has a copy of her biography in its window. 

An hour away, in the prefecture of Nevers, a regional newspaper reported that “about 15 people” gathered to watch the lift-off on a big screen.

Compare this to British astronaut Tim Peake’s ISS mission in 2015/16, during which he was given the highest honour possible by councillors in his native Chichester – freedom of the city. 

A local resident told the BBC: "I think it's the very least that Chichester can do.” A celebratory parade, also planned, was only cancelled at Peake’s request. 

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In the US, local pride is even more overt. A late March opinion piece in Bridge Michigan entitled ‘Let’s recognise historic moon flight by Grand Rapids native Christina Koch’ drew parallels with another of the city’s famous astronauts, Roger B. Chaffee, who died in the Apollo 1 fire in 1967. 

In his memory, the article said, “the Grand Rapids Public Museum features the Chaffee Planetarium, the Children’s Museum showcases his statue, the Chaffee Scholarship Fund distributes awards, and Grand Valley State University and the GRPM have put on a yearly ‘Roger That!’ event, named for Chaffee, since 2017.”

Granted, it’s still early days for Sophie Adenot on the ISS. Perhaps, like Chaffee, she will ultimately also get a statue in her hometown, but it feels fairly unlikely. 

And that’s not because France isn’t shy of a monument or two – this is the country that gave the US its iconic Statue of Liberty and erected well over 36,000 memorials to brave citizens after World War One – but because success and progress are usually defined through collective effort rather than singling out exceptional individuals. 

Trump’s proposed ‘National Garden of American Heroes’ just wouldn’t wash here.

It’s an attitude that astronauts, no matter their nationality, seem to have taken on board. 

Christina Koch came back from space in April with a new understanding, she said, of what it means to belong to something bigger than yourself – a crew. 

Speaking just a day after splashdown, she described it as the state of being “inescapably, beautifully, dutifully linked”, adding: “Planet Earth: you are a crew.”

In Nièvre, her message has been received loud and clear. A largely rural community, where economic and educational opportunities can feel limited, it would be easy to cling to the conventional hero ideal or look for a salvation story. 

But Sophie Adenot’s mission “pour nous faire rêver” is so much more inspiring if, rather than placing her on that pedestal, we put ourselves in the picture and see one native’s accomplishments as indivisible from the whole town’s. 

Aligned rather than set apart, the French principle suggests we are thus more empowered – and liberated – to solve, save and succeed in turn.