Let’s be honest: Britain used to be an absolute weapon when it came to ambition. We invented the jet engine, built the world’s first supersonic passenger plane, deregulated the hell out of the City and turned London into a capitalist Disneyland. We even taught the world how to queue properly.
Now? We can’t even build a bloody train line to Birmingham without going billions over budget and then cancelling it halfway through like a hungover student bailing on an essay.
Somewhere along the way, our national confidence buggered off—and it’s been replaced by a kind of weird, sneering disdain for success and a pathological fear of trying anything remotely bold in case someone on Twitter calls us names.
We Used to Shoot for the Moon (Literally)
Let’s go back. Picture it: 1962. Across the Atlantic, JFK is standing at a podium in Houston, looking all chiselled and presidential. He tells the world: “We choose to go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard.” The Yanks, bless them, actually do it. They chuck a few lads in a tin can and launch them at the moon. Not bad for a country still putting cheese in cans.
Meanwhile, back in Blighty, we weren’t exactly twiddling our thumbs either. Sir Frank Whittle gave the world the jet engine, for God’s sake. And in the ’60s and ’70s, we said “Sod it, let’s fly faster than sound” and built Concorde, the sexiest plane ever made—basically a champagne-fuelled missile with waiters.
Then in 1986, Margaret Thatcher—love her or loathe her—threw a metaphorical grenade into the City with the Big Bang, deregulated financial markets, and turned London into a haven for ambitious wideboys in red braces and filofaxes. It was bold, it was brash, and it worked. The last proper visionary PM we’ve had. Since then? Let’s just say the visionary bar’s been left untouched, gathering dust next to a framed photo of a broken HS2 map.
Today’s National Mood: Meh
Fast forward to now, and the vibe is… beige. Our industrial strategy could be summed up as: “Don’t try too hard, and definitely don’t make anyone feel uncomfortable by succeeding.”
Where’s the big, hairy, ambitious national goal? Where’s the oomph? China’s building floating cities and AI armies, the US is experimenting with Mars colonies and lab-grown organs, and we’re over here wondering if it’s too bold to propose a third runway at Heathrow in under 50 years.
We’ve become the nation of “well let’s not get carried away.” Ambition is now seen as a bit… tacky. Set aspirational goals and you’re labelled a wanker. Build a successful company and you’re a “fat cat.” Try and change the world? “Bit full of yourself, aren’t you?”
The Problem with Taking the Piss
It’s not just lack of vision that’s hobbling us—it’s the national pastime of taking the piss out of anyone who does have a bit of it.
You want to start a moonshot tech startup? Prepare for your mates to ask when you’re moving to California and start using words like “synergy.” You want to work hard, scale it, and maybe sell it? God forbid you make a profit—someone from a think tank will be along shortly to explain why your existence is morally problematic.
It’s killing us. Innovation doesn’t come from “managing decline” or “steady as she goes.” It comes from saying, “Right, we’re going to do something mad and brilliant and probably a bit dangerous, and if it works, we’ll change the world.” The very sort of sentence that would now trigger 15 impact assessments and three Select Committee inquiries.
The Economic Cost of Being Boring
Let’s be blunt: if you’re not trying to lead, you’re falling behind. The global economy is not going to wait for Britain to rediscover its balls. Our productivity is stagnant, our infrastructure is creaking, and the only thing we seem to scale consistently is bureaucracy.
We need big bets, moonshots, risky ideas. Not more consultations and politely-worded white papers that no one reads. Want to be a global leader in green energy, AI, biotech? Great. Just don’t expect to get there by funding six pilot schemes and a podcast series.
So What Do We Do?
Simple. Grow up. Get over the weird aversion to ambition. Stop being allergic to success. And for the love of God, start taking some bloody risks again.
We need:
• A big national goal. Not a “strategy” or a “framework”—an actual, ambitious, scary goal.
• Political leaders who say things like “we’ll do it because it’s hard,” not “we’ll form a cross-party committee to consider potential consultation pathways.”
• A cultural shift where we back winners and cheer for success, rather than slagging people off for trying.
• A Margaret Thatcher energy—but maybe with less milk-snatching and more moon landings.
Final Thought: We’re Still Bloody Brilliant (If We Let Ourselves Be)
Here’s the thing: we’ve still got the talent. The scientists, the thinkers, the entrepreneurs. We’ve got a rich history of innovation and a global reputation we could revive if we stopped spending all our energy apologising for being ambitious.
But if we keep treating ambition like it’s something embarrassing—something a bit too American—we’ll be left behind, serving up lukewarm innovation with a side of national self-doubt.
It’s time to stop aiming for “not embarrassing ourselves” and start aiming for the moon again. And if someone laughs at us for trying? We’ll see them at 60,000 feet—on our way to something supersonic.
