The Expanse presents a future where humanity has colonized Mars and the asteroid belt, developed advanced technology, and achieved interplanetary civilization. Yet we remain divided—Earthers, Martians, and Belters locked in political conflict, mutual suspicion, and occasional violence. Technology advanced; human nature didn't.
This is one of science fiction's most realistic depictions of near-future humanity. We didn't evolve past tribalism or overcome our tendency toward in-group/out-group thinking. We just extended these tendencies to new contexts. Instead of nations fighting over Earth's resources, we have planets and belts fighting over the solar system's resources.
From a Christian perspective, The Expanse accidentally vindicates the doctrine of sin. Humans are fallen, corrupted, inclined toward selfishness and tribalism. Education, technology, and expanded horizons don't fix this. They just give us new contexts for the same old problems.
The show's three factions embody different aspects of human political organization. Earth represents old power clinging to relevance despite decline—bureaucratic, factional, nostalgic for past dominance. Mars represents ideological drive and unity toward great goals, but with authoritarian tendencies and willingness to sacrifice individuals for collective purposes. The Belt represents marginalized people exploited by powers, developing solidarity through shared oppression but prone to radicalism and violence.
None of these factions are entirely right or wrong. Each has legitimate grievances and problematic behaviors. The show resists simplistic good-guys-vs-bad-guys framing. Humans are complex, groups are complex, and conflicts arise from competing legitimate interests rather than pure evil.
This nuance is rare in science fiction. Star Trek assumes humanity will unite. Many space operas need clear villains. The Expanse shows humanity fragmented and flawed, with conflicts emerging from resource scarcity, historical grievances, and tribal identity—not from alien invasions or evil empires.
As an autistic person who struggles with tribalism, I find this both accurate and concerning. I don't naturally feel strong group loyalty or in-group preference. This makes me relatively immune to nationalist or tribal manipulation. But it also means I sometimes miss why these identities matter so intensely to others.
The Expanse helps me understand. The Belters aren't just individuals; they're a people with shared history, language (Belter Creole), and culture. Their identity has been forged through exploitation and survival in harsh conditions. This creates genuine bonds that resist individualist dissolution.
But it also creates conflict. When identity is tightly bound to group, threats to the group feel like threats to self. Resource competition becomes existential. Compromise feels like betrayal. The very solidarity that enables survival also perpetuates conflict.
Christianity offers resources for addressing this that The Expanse lacks. The church is meant to be a community transcending tribal divisions—"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28).
This doesn't eliminate all differences or create bland uniformity. But it subordinates tribal identities to deeper identity in Christ. Earthers, Martians, and Belters who are Christians belong to each other more fundamentally than they belong to their planets or factions.
In practice, the church often fails at this. We replicate society's divisions rather than transcending them. But the vision remains crucial: a community where fundamental identity is shared relationship with God, not tribal membership.
The Expanse also explores resource scarcity as driver of conflict. Earth is overpopulated and polluted. Mars is resource-poor and dependent on Earth. The Belt is resource-rich but lacks political power. Each faction needs what others have, creating zero-sum dynamics.
Christianity challenges zero-sum thinking. God's economy is abundance, generosity, and sacrifice for others. The gospel message is that God provided what we couldn't provide ourselves. This should shape how Christians think about resources—not hoarding for self but stewarding for community flourishing.
Practically, this means advocating for systems that address genuine needs rather than maximizing advantage. In The Expanse, if Earth helped develop Belt infrastructure and Mars shared technology for mutual benefit, conflict could be reduced. Instead, each faction maximizes its position at others' expense.
Humans need to overcome this if we're actually going to become multiplanetary civilization. Mars colonization can't succeed if Earthers and Martians hate each other. Asteroid mining can't work if Belters and inner planets are in constant conflict. We need cooperation across traditional boundaries.
But cooperation requires transcending tribalism, which requires change deeper than technology provides. This is why The Expanse is pessimistic—it assumes human nature is relatively fixed. We'll carry our tribal tendencies wherever we go.
Christianity is more optimistic in one sense, more pessimistic in another. More pessimistic about unaided human nature—yes, we're deeply flawed and won't evolve past tribalism through our own efforts. More optimistic about transformation—God can change hearts, create new identities, and enable communities that transcend tribal divisions.
The show's depiction of Protomolecule—alien technology that transforms everything it touches—functions as deus ex machina. It creates crises that force factions to cooperate. But it doesn't change human nature. Once the immediate crisis passes, tribalism reasserts itself.
Real transformation requires internal change, not just external pressure. This is gospel truth: we need new hearts, not just new circumstances. The old self, with its tribal identities and self-interested loyalties, must die. The new self, with identity rooted in Christ and loyalty to God's kingdom, must be raised.
The Expanse accidentally demonstrates why this is necessary. Left to ourselves, we'll replicate the same conflicts at ever-larger scales. Expand to the solar system, and Earth-Mars-Belt conflicts replace nation-state conflicts. Expand to the stars, and system-vs-system conflicts replace planet-vs-planet conflicts.
The problem isn't scope; it's human nature. Technology, expansion, and education don't fix it. Only transformation from within—the kind that Christianity claims God provides through the Spirit—can address the root issue.
This doesn't mean Christians shouldn't pursue space exploration or Mars colonization. It means we should do so recognizing that taking humans to other worlds means taking human nature too. We need both technological development and spiritual transformation. Neither alone suffices.
The Expanse is valuable science fiction precisely because it's realistic about human limitations while depicting impressive technological achievements. It shows what humanity might accomplish physically while remaining deeply flawed morally and spiritually.
This should humble us. Mars cities are possible. Interplanetary civilization is achievable. But utopia isn't—not through technology alone. We'll carry our fallenness wherever we go unless something changes at the level of human hearts.
That's where gospel intersects science fiction. The Expanse shows the problem clearly. Christianity offers the solution: not escape to other planets, but transformation of persons through divine grace, creating communities that transcend tribal divisions and live according to kingdom values.
When humans eventually settle Mars, we'll still be fallen image-bearers needing redemption. Our tribalism won't vanish because we changed planets. Our conflicts won't end because we have new resources. We'll need the same gospel on Mars that we need on Earth—and the same Spirit to transform us from tribal competitors into kingdom citizens.
The Expanse depicts this need without recognizing the solution. That's its value and limitation. It shows humanity as we are—flawed, tribal, conflicted even in advanced contexts. It doesn't show humanity as we could be—transformed by grace into something transcending our tribal defaults.
That transformation is possible. But it requires more than technology, expansion, or education. It requires God doing what we can't do ourselves—changing hearts, creating new identities, and building communities united by something deeper than tribal loyalty.
The Expanse shows why we need this. The gospel provides it. And when humanity eventually becomes multiplanetary, we'll need both the technological achievement and the spiritual transformation if we're to flourish rather than just replicate Earth's conflicts on a larger stage.