Imagine a morning on Mars. A pinkish dawn, slightly longer than Earth's. A thin, dusty haze over the horizon. Someone in a habitat module opens an app on their tablet – with a familiar gesture, like millions of people on Earth do every morning – and reads their horoscope. «Mercury is in retrograde today. Be careful in negotiations.» The person on Mars looks out the porthole. Mercury is out there somewhere, beyond the horizon. But what it's actually doing from this person's perspective is another question entirely.
Astrology is one of the oldest systems for interpreting the world, devised by humanity to find guidance for life on Earth in the sky. Specifically on Earth. At a specific point, with a specific horizon, a specific zodiacal belt, and a specific length of the day. All of these are the given conditions of the problem, conditions that no one has revisited for millennia because there was no need to. But as soon as humanity moves to another planet, every one of these conditions will be called into question.
Astrology in its traditional form is, first and foremost, a geocentric system. It describes the positions of the planets from the perspective of an observer on Earth. The signs of the zodiac are not the planets or constellations themselves, but sectors of the ecliptic: the imaginary plane along which the Sun moves across Earth's sky throughout the year. Aries, Taurus, Gemini – these are sections of the Sun's path as observed from the surface of our planet.
On Mars, the Sun also moves across the sky. But its angular velocities are different. The year is almost twice as long – a Martian year is about 687 Earth days. This means the Sun passes through the same zodiacal constellations, but it does so more slowly. If someone were to construct an astrological system for Mars analogous to Earth's, the «signs» would be stretched out in time: the Sun would linger in each sector for about twice as long as it does in an Earth year. A person born «under Aries» in terrestrial astrology might find themselves in a completely different sector from a Mars-centric point of view.
This isn't just a technical detail. It's a complete reconstruction of the foundation.
A day on Mars – what's called a «sol» – lasts 24 hours and 37 minutes. Almost like Earth's. It's almost mockingly close to the familiar rhythm, and this very fact creates a peculiar effect: the first Martian settlers will likely live by sols without major problems. The body adapts.
But here is what's interesting: Martian «hours» do not align with terrestrial ones in an astrological sense. When an astrologer speaks of the «hour of Venus» or casts a chart based on the time of birth, they are relying on a system of planetary hours tied to Earth's rotation and Earth's horizon. On Mars, the horizon is different. The latitude of observation is different, as is the Sun's angle of ascent. The Ascendant – one of the key elements of a natal chart, the zodiac sign rising on the horizon at the moment of birth – would be calculated using entirely different tables, if anyone even tried to create them.
And then: who will cast a natal chart for a child born in an underground habitat, several meters beneath the Martian surface? With what sky? With what horizon?
There is another point that makes Martian astrology fundamentally different from Earth's. On Earth, we observe the planets of the Solar System from outside the orbits of Mercury and Venus, and from inside the orbits of Mars, Jupiter, and the rest. On Mars, everything is different.
From the surface of Mars, Earth is an inner planet. It moves along an orbit closer to the Sun. This means Earth is observed in the same way we observe Venus: never straying too far from the Sun, visible only just before sunrise or after sunset. For the inhabitants of Mars, Earth is a morning or evening star.
In traditional astrology, Earth is not an active player at all – the system is built around the observer on Earth, and the planet beneath our feet is, in a way, not taken into account. On Mars, Earth suddenly appears in the sky as a full-fledged celestial body. Bright, bluish, sometimes – along with its Moon – a double point of light. How will astrologers work with this? Will they ignore Earth? Or will they incorporate it into the system?
And what about Mars itself? In terrestrial astrology, it is the planet of war, energy, conflict, and action. What happens to that archetype when it becomes the planet you live on? You are living inside Mars, under its red sky. It is no longer a symbol – it is the soil beneath your feet.
The zodiacal belt used in Western astrology consists of 12 signs, each spanning 30 degrees of the ecliptic. The Tropical Zodiac, most common in the Western tradition, is tied not to the constellations but to Earth's seasons: Aries begins at the moment of the spring equinox in the Northern Hemisphere.
Mars also has seasons – the planet has an axial tilt of about 25 degrees, almost like Earth's (23.5 degrees). Martian seasons exist, but they are twice as long, asymmetrical due to its elliptical orbit, and most importantly, they occur in a completely different rhythm relative to the earthly zodiac signs.
If someone were to try to build a «Martian Tropical Zodiac» analogous to Earth's, the starting point would be tied to the Martian spring equinox. But 12 signs of 30 degrees in a year that is twice as long means it's no longer one month per sign, but almost two Earth months. Someone born «at the beginning of Aries» and someone born «at the end of Aries» would be separated by almost two months of real time. This either shatters the logic of signs as seasonal archetypes or demands a complete reinvention of what they mean.
Some astrological researchers have already discussed hypothetical systems for other planets. One approach is not to divide the sky into 12 sectors analogous to the Earth's zodiac, but to build a new system with a different number of «signs» or different rhythmic principles. For example, a Martian zodiac might have 10 signs instead of 12 – simply because it's more convenient for its orbit. Or 24. In such a case, astrology transforms into an open design problem rather than an inherited system.
In traditional astrology, the Moon is a key object. It governs emotions, intuition, bodily rhythms, and cycles. It moves faster than any other planet through the horoscope, changing signs every two-plus days. It creates tides and influences cycles of sleep and wakefulness.
Mars has two moons: Phobos and Deimos. They are tiny, irregularly shaped, resembling captured asteroids. Phobos orbits Mars in 7 hours and 39 minutes – faster than the planet rotates on its axis. To an observer on the surface, this means Phobos rises in the west and sets in the east, crossing the sky several times a night. Deimos moves more slowly, almost imperceptibly, remaining above the horizon for more than two sols.
What is an astrologer to do with this? Phobos is too small and fast to govern emotional cycles in the familiar sense. Deimos is nearly a fixed point. Neither of them produces visible phases comparable to the Moon's. Mars lacks the slow, rhythmic «lunar time» that forms the basis of terrestrial astrology.
This is, perhaps, the most radical difference. Lunar astrology on Mars is either a practice working with completely different rhythms or an almost empty space.
Here, a deeper question arises, one that has nothing to do with orbits and degrees. Astrology is not just a technical coordinate system. It's a language. A language of symbols, archetypes, and narratives. People use it to structure their own experiences, find meaning in coincidences, and talk about character and fate in terms that others can understand.
This language developed over millennia – in Mesopotamia, Egypt, the Hellenistic world, medieval Europe, and the Arab East. It reflected the sky of specific people looking up at it from a specific planet. But a language is a living system. It changes along with those who speak it.
We can assume that the first Martian colonists will continue to use terrestrial astrology for a long time – simply because it will be part of the cultural baggage they bring with them. Horoscopes, zodiac signs, Mercury retrograde – all of this travels in people's minds, not in observatories. As long as people remember Earth, a Martian astrologer will calculate charts the terrestrial way.
But several generations will pass. Children will be born who have never seen Earth. For them, the night sky is the Martian sky. Their intuition of the sky, their «celestial images», will be formed under a different dome. And then, terrestrial astrology will become for them what, say, Babylonian astrology is to us – a historical system of academic or cultural interest, but one that does not reflect their own sky.
They might create their own. Or not create one at all.
One argument that psychologically-oriented astrologers make in defense of their discipline is this: astrology works not because the planets physically influence a person, but because it provides a structure for self-discovery. The planets are symbols, not causes. Mars is a symbol of will and aggression not because the planet's radiation somehow affects character, but because generations of people have agreed to use this image in this specific way.
If we accept this viewpoint, then astrology is potentially portable to any planet – just as any symbolic system is. One could take the same «planetary gods» – Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn – and build narratives with them regardless of the point in space from which you observe them.
But then it is no longer astrology in the strict sense of the word. It is psychological archetyping with planetary names. And that has long existed on Earth – it's just that no one admits it out loud.
Let's imagine a specific scene for a moment. The year is somewhere in the distant future. A settlement near Valles Marineris. A small residential complex of a few hundred people. One of them – let's call her Lucia, the daughter of a technician, born on Mars – opens something like an astrological guide. But not an earthly one. Her own.
In her system, there are eight signs. The year is divided into eight seasons, each about 85 Earth days long. The signs are named not after Greek constellations, but after features of the Martian sky and phenomena: the Dusty, the Quiet, the Double (because during this time, Earth and its Moon are especially bright, a double point of light). The Ascendant is calculated based on the local horizon and local time of birth. Phobos – the fast, skittish moon – governs reflexes and immediate reactions in this system. Deimos – the slow, almost stationary one – symbolizes patience and long-term memory.
From the standpoint of internal logic, this system is no worse than Earth's. It is simply different. It reflects Lucia's sky, not the sky of Ptolemy or Paracelsus.
And Lucia, looking at it, will feel the same things we do when reading our zodiac sign: recognition, doubt, curiosity. The desire to find oneself in the stars. Or in the dust beneath them.
There is one more detail that is hard not to think about. In terrestrial astrology, it is not just the «map of the sky at the moment of birth» that is important, but also the place of birth. The coordinates on the planet's surface. Buenos Aires and Tokyo yield different Ascendants for the same time of birth – because their horizons are different.
When someone is born on Mars, their place of birth will be a different planet. Not a different city, not a different country – a different planet, 54 to 400 million kilometers from Earth (the distance varies depending on the relative positions of their orbits). This distance is not just a number. It's a new scale for what «where you were born» means.
Terrestrial astrologers, who tie charts to coordinates, will face a question that never existed before: is it even possible to calculate a natal chart for Mars using terrestrial house tables? Or would it be a chart so conditional that its practical meaning disappears?
Ultimately, astrology is a mirror. It reflects not the planets, but the people who look at them. It arose when the first observers discovered that the sky moves rhythmically, that these rhythms have a predictability, and that this predictability could be used – first for agriculture, then for navigation, and later for interpreting fate.
On Mars, the sky also moves rhythmically. The rhythms are different – but they exist. Sol follows sol. Phobos races across the sky several times a night. Deimos crawls slowly. Dust storms cover the horizon for weeks. The Sun is slightly smaller and colder than on Earth. Earth hangs in the sky – sometimes bright, sometimes barely visible.
A person living within these rhythms for several generations will inevitably begin to find meaning in them. To name them. To build narratives from them. Because that is what people have done with the sky ever since they learned to look up.
Whether it will be called astrology is a question of terminology. In essence, it will be the same thing: an attempt to read oneself in the movement of celestial bodies. Only the celestial bodies will be different. And the person – a little different, too.
This is what the sky of tomorrow might look like. Pinkish, dusty, with two small moons and a pale blue dot where home used to be.
