China finished 2025 with a record-breaking 92 orbital launches, a figure that has dominated global space coverage and revived familiar concerns about relative space power. In most commentaries, launch numbers have been treated as a shorthand for strategic superiority, portraying China as moving decisively while others, including India, appear slow by comparison.
It’s a fascinating read—and incomplete.
Launch cadence is a visible metric, but it’s not decisive. Space power is defined not by how many rockets leave the pad in a given year, but by how reliably a nation can launch into orbit, survive over time, defend in contested environments, and integrate into broader economic and security systems. Based on those criteria, China’s record launch year reveals as much about the limits of numerical comparison as it does about Beijing’s growing ambitions.
The lure of numbers
Raw launch counts have an intuitive appeal. They are easy to track, easy to compare and easy to dramatize. China’s lead is real and significant, driven by a combination of megaconstellation deployments, technology-demonstration missions, and a dense ecosystem of state-owned and quasi-commercial launch providers coordinated under the umbrella of the China Aerospace Science and Technology Corporation.
Yet numbers alone smooth out important differences. A launch that places two experimental satellites into geostationary transfer orbit counts the same as a launch that delivers a fully operational navigation satellite or high-value Earth-observation platform. A technology test that may never be converted to operational service carries the same numerical weight as a mission underpinning national infrastructure.
The risk is not just one of analytical carelessness. This is a strategic misunderstanding. When numbers become proxies for power, they encourage reactive thinking – calling for “matching” or “catching up” – without first asking what problem is actually being solved.
China’s model: scale as insurance
China’s space strategy increasingly considers scale as a form of insurance. Larger constellations, frequent launches and faster on-orbit experiments are designed to create redundancies in an environment that Beijing sees as already overcrowded and competitive. Civil, commercial and military functions are intentionally intertwined, allowing technologies to mature quickly through operational exposure rather than extended ground validation.
There are clear benefits to this approach. Repeated launches accelerate the learning cycle. Failures are internalized as statistical rather than political. New capabilities – rendezvous operations, on-orbit refueling, space situational awareness payloads – are tested under real conditions rather than being simulated indefinitely.
But this model also reflects China’s institutional context. A centralized system can tolerate higher overall risk across a larger portfolio of missions, provided overall speed is maintained. It also reflects the desire to prioritize presence and redundancy, even though individual systems may be replaced short-term or iteratively.
Viewed in this light, China’s record year is less a singular achievement than a continuation of a broader philosophy: building mass in the classroom, accepting churn, and refining capabilities through continued application.
India’s Model: Assurance Before Abundance
India’s space program follows a different logic. The Indian Space Research Organization has historically prioritized mission assurance, cost discipline and operational longevity over quantity. Launches are infrequent because each mission is expected to operate, survive, and provide strategic or commercial value for many years.
India’s 2025 Mission clearly reflects this. They included navigation satellite replenishment, a major Earth-observing radar mission developed jointly with the United States, and a heavy-lift communications satellite placed in geostationary transfer orbit. These were not rhythm-driven launches. They were infrastructure projections, designed to underpin navigation flexibility, climate and security monitoring, and communications capability.
This philosophy inevitably produces low annual numbers. It also creates higher credibility among international partners and customers, and a space architecture built around reliability rather than rapid replacement. In an age where satellites are increasingly serving as invisible but essential public utilities, this difference matters.
Two principles, not one caste
Repeatedly portraying China and India as participants in the same space race obscures the reality that they are participating in entirely different races.
China is optimizing for orbital density and redundancy in anticipation of future disruption. India is optimizing for assured capacity under fiscal, political and regulatory constraints that favor sustainability over saturation. No approach is inherently superior. Each reflects national priorities, risk tolerance and institutional design.
Danger arises when one principle is judged on the basis of another principle. India does not need to demonstrate relevance by matching China’s launch numbers, as China will validate its strategy by adopting India’s conservative mission cadence.
where is the real challenge
If launch numbers are the wrong metric, where should the focus be focused?
The answer lies in the operating environment itself. Low Earth orbit is becoming more crowded, more disputed, and more opaque. Near-approach events are increasing. The danger of debris is increasing. Dual-use satellites blur the line between civilian infrastructure and strategic assets.
In this context, decisive capabilities are not just launch frequency, but space situational awareness, collision avoidance, rapid anomaly response, and the ability to replace or augment critical systems when needed. Responsive launches matter, but also the industrial capacity to build satellites predictably, regulatory frameworks that enable private participation, and command-and-control structures that integrate space assets into national decision-making.
India has begun to address these areas through incremental but deliberate steps: industrializing launch vehicle production, transferring short-launch technologies to industry, and creating policy frameworks that allow private companies to operate without weakening sovereign oversight. These are slower moves than the headline-grabbing launch blitz, but they are fundamental.
Restraint as a strategy
In strategic debates there is a tendency to equate restraint with hesitation. Restraint in space can also be a form of clarity. Not every domain rewards maximalism. Not every capability needs to be demonstrated solely through the scale.
India’s space programme, for decades, has been driven by trust – trust that missions will work, satellites will survive, and partnerships will be respected. That trust has translated into business launches, international collaborations and a reputation that goes far beyond raw numbers.
China’s record launch year is an impressive logistics and industrial feat. It is also a reminder that space power is multidimensional. Presence without persistence, volume without integration, and experimentation without moderation do not automatically translate into lasting gains.
The real question for India is not whether it should chase China’s numbers, but whether it is building the capabilities needed to operate confidently in a more crowded and competitive orbital environment. On that score, patience and selectivity may still prove to be assets rather than liabilities.
In space, as in strategy more broadly, power is measured less by how often one acts than by how reliably one can rely on what is already built.
(Girish Linganna is an award-winning science communicator and defence, aerospace and geopolitical analyst. He is the Managing Director of ADD Engineering Components India Pvt. Ltd., a subsidiary of ADD Engineering GmbH, Germany. The views expressed in the article are those of the author.)
