The City of London is buzzing with a familiar refrain: why can’t we buy shares in SpaceX? This is not merely a question of access. It is a referendum on the very architecture of our capital markets. For years, the cult of the initial public offering has dominated retail and institutional investment. But a new paradigm is emerging, one where private companies like SpaceX, Stripe, and OpenAI hoard the wealth creation. UK investors are waking up to the fact that the real action is in the private markets, and they want a piece of the rocket ship.
Let us be clear: the current system is a rigged game. The democratisation of finance was supposed to be the great promise of fintech. Instead, we have a two-tier market. Institutions like BlackRock and sovereign wealth funds snap up pre-IPO shares at valuations that make the public markets look like a fire sale. The retail punter, meanwhile, is left with the scraps of a secondary market that is already pricing in the next recession. The demand for SpaceX shares is a symptom of a deeper frustration: the belief that the average investor is subsidising the escape of the ultra-wealthy into private assets.
Why does this matter? It matters because capital flight is not just about money leaving the country; it is about the concentration of wealth in assets that are opaque, illiquid, and unregulated. The UK has long prided itself on its transparent and efficient markets. But if the only way to access the next trillion-dollar company is to have a net worth of £10 million or be an accredited investor, then we are betraying the egalitarian ethos of exchange. The government talks about a “Singapore-on-Thames” but Singapore has one of the most restrictive markets for retail investors. The real prize is a system that allows the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker to participate in the growth of companies that are reshaping the global economy.
There are, of course, risks. Private companies are not subject to the same disclosure requirements as public ones. They can hide their financials behind NDAs and legal fees. The valuation of SpaceX, for instance, is a matter of intense speculation. Some say it is worth $150 billion; others think it is a bubble waiting to pop. But the market is efficient enough to price these risks if we create the right infrastructure. We need secondary trading platforms that are open to all, with proper investor protections. We need regulators to stop treating retail investors like children and start treating them like adults.
The Bank of England and the FCA should take note. The appetite for private equity among UK households is enormous. We have seen it in the rush for alternative investments and the growth of crowdfunding platforms. But these are baby steps. What we need is a fundamental overhaul of the rules governing who can buy what. The capital markets are the lifeblood of the economy, and they are clogged with arteries of privilege.
In the end, this is about fiscal responsibility. If we truly believe in the magic of the market, then we must let everyone play. The government is happy to tax capital gains from property and publicly listed shares. But it is missing a golden goose: the hidden billions in private companies that are circulating among the elite. Opening up these markets would widen the tax base, foster innovation, and reduce the reliance on government spending as a driver of growth.
So, who can buy shares in SpaceX? If the UK wants to remain a financial powerhouse, the answer should be: anyone with a bank account. The revolution will not be televised. It will be tokenised. And it is time for the City to lead the charge.
