- February 29, 2024
- Posted by: admin
- Category: Emilio Cozzi
From orbiting cans and ashes to crosses on the Moon, private initiatives for “unconventional” uses of space are proliferating. There will be a need for laws to regulate, more precisely than the 1967 UN Treaty, how we behave beyond the atmosphere.
BY EMILIO COZZI
It is reasonable to think that the last thing the Wright brothers had in mind on December 17, 1903, during the 12 seconds when Orville made the first flight aboard the Flyer, a heavier-than-air motor-powered machine, was to use an airplane to tow banners with advertisements or declarations of love. Yet, in the decades that followed, even that became a possible and lucrative activity. And, to guess again a bit, one could bet that even the Chief Designer of the Soviet space program, Sergei Korolev, while designing the Sputnik and its rocket and seeing it take off to write the first chapter of a new era, did not think that space would be a place for burials, for sending wedding rings, souvenir photos, or for commercial branding operations. Yet.
Astrobotic’s lander “Peregrine,” which was supposed to land in January, was packed with instruments and experiments, but in its belly, it also carried the can of a Japanese sports drink: Pocari Sweat. The agreement between the two companies, Astrobotic and Otsuka Pharmaceutical, was announced in 2015 and presented as the first advertisement on the Moon. The brand’s packaging was enough; that can, in fact, did not contain the drink. It was more of a time capsule – “Lunar Dream” – and contained titanium plates engraved with messages sent by people from all over the world, along with a portion of powdered Pocari Sweat, to be mixed – it goes without saying – with lunar water to obtain a refreshing drink for the astronaut’s fatigue. At least, that was the advertising idea. Unfortunately for Otsuka, not only was that trip postponed for eight years (it was supposed to take off in 2016), but the can never made it to the Moon: along with the entire Peregrine, it dissolved into ashes in the Earth’s atmosphere, due to a malfunction in the engine’s power supply system.
Otsuka Pharmaceutical’s venture wasn’t the first investment in space advertising by a company; the first examples date back to the 1990s: in 1996, Pepsi sent a giant replica can to Mir, which was then floated outside the Russian station in space. In 1997, an Israeli milk company filmed what is remembered as the first video ad in orbit, also on Mir. Pizza Hut branded a Proton rocket with its logo before bringing a small pizza to the International Space Station (for the curious: the first pizza eaten in space had salami). Leaving aside various weather balloons that have been launched into the sky with items like chairs and sandwiches, the most prominent example, strictly speaking, is that of a car.
In 2016, for the debut of the Falcon Heavy, which would become the most powerful rocket in circulation until the debut of the Space Launch System, Elon Musk and SpaceX decided to place a Tesla Roadster, convertible and topless, as cargo. When the two payload fairings opened, the whole world saw a dummy seated at the wheel of the convertible, with its arm out as if cruising on Sunset Boulevard, the Earth reflected on the shiny door, and from the car radio (according to SpaceX), David Bowie’s Starman playing. On the dashboard, the inscription “Don’t Panic!” as a homage to Douglas Adams’ famous “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” kept in the glove compartment.
It’s an unconventional use of space, this time understood as the volume left free (or purchased) inside and outside a vehicle designed to do something entirely different.
Moving forward, things become easier and more complex at the same time. The cost per kilogram to reach orbit has plummeted since the days of the Space Shuttle, technologies for smaller satellites are available, and, above all, rideshare, meaning group trips where different payloads share the same launch, is possible. Opportunities have multiplied.
If the first ashes reached there with a Space Shuttle in 1997 (they were those of Gene Roddenberry, the father of Star Trek), and on the Moon aboard the Lunar Prospector mission (by Eugene Merle Shoemaker), now anyone’s ashes can find a worthy “burial” among the stars. There are companies born for this purpose; one of the longest-standing is Memorial Spaceflights, which offers launches at different prices depending on whether the ashes of the deceased loved one travel into space and return to the atmosphere, remain in orbit, reach the Moon, or continue to travel, virtually forever, in space around the Sun. Cost? From $3,000 to $13,000. An Italian company, Upmosphere, founded a few years ago, offers a similar service but not just for ashes. It’s possible to send beyond the sky a photo of a loved one, wedding rings, or other small (and very lightweight) objects. A few thousand euros to preserve a space memory and track it with an app to know which constellation to look at when it passes overhead. Returning to the example of advertising, the founders of the same startup thought that taking something into space could be an opportunity to launch a brand, linking it to the idea of space.
On board Astrobotic’s lander were also human ashes carried by two of these companies: Celestis and Elysium Space. They seem somewhat harmless oddities until one thinks of the risk that such initiatives may get out of hand. For many Native American tribes, Navajo at the forefront, for example, the line has already been crossed because the Moon, for them, is sacred, and transporting human remains there is a blasphemous act. One can cite the case of the Humanity Star, the reflective sphere placed in orbit by Rocket Lab, which had the sole purpose of being there, orbiting and, as it rotated, reflecting the Sun with flashes of light visible from Earth. Astronomers considered it an act of vandalism, despite the many lights streaking across the sky (from the ISS to thousands of satellites, not to mention the Starlink trains), because the initiative is an end in itself.
The debate remains open. What can be sent into space and what cannot? U.S. law states that any object launched should not “endanger public health and safety… the national security of the United States… or the international obligations of the United States.” However, precise regulations are still lacking to govern something that, as can be seen from the pricing, seems within reach of many now. According to Reuters, “expert space law attorneys fear that the absence of rules could pit U.S. companies against other countries operating on the lunar surface, or trigger international disputes over which private initiatives could be considered appropriation of territory or claims of sovereignty.”
For example, Celestis CEO Charles Schafer responded to Navajo objections: “We don’t make decisions about space missions based on a religious test. I have a picture of 20,000 Buddhist monks celebrating our launch. Which religion wins?” Entrepreneur Justin Park of Washington wants to build a Christian cross on the Moon as tall as a two-story building using regolith as cement. Estimated cost of the venture: one billion dollars. “No one owns the Moon,” Park said, “you don’t want to trample traditions, but you can’t hold back the rest of the world.” According to him, putting a brake on it now “would destroy an industry before it takes off.”
And according to Reuters, there is growing concern among professionals as well. According to the Outer Space Treaty, the 1967 UN treaty, individual states are responsible for space activities, even by private actors. And just as with launches, satellites, and debris in low orbit, the proliferation of commercial initiatives will pose one of the great challenges in the coming years: approving treaties and laws on how to behave beyond the Earth’s atmosphere.