Get ready for a mind-boggling journey into the future of space exploration and the ethical dilemmas it presents. Who owns the stars? It's a question that might seem far-fetched, but with the rapid advancements in space technology, it's a conversation we need to have now.
Imagine a world where millions of people call space their home. It's a vision painted by none other than Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon and Blue Origin. He predicts that within a couple of decades, space will be bustling with human activity, mostly driven by the desire to explore and the cost-effectiveness of robots doing the heavy lifting.
But here's where it gets controversial. Will Bruey, founder of Varda Space Industries, a space manufacturing startup, made a bold prediction at TechCrunch Disrupt in San Francisco. He suggested that in the not-too-distant future, it will be more cost-effective to send a 'working-class human' into orbit for a month than to develop advanced machines. This statement raises eyebrows and prompts us to ask: who will be working in space, and under what conditions?
To delve deeper into these questions, we turn to Mary-Jane Rubenstein, Dean of Social Sciences and a professor specializing in religion, science, and technology studies at Wesleyan University. Rubenstein, an expert in space ethics, offers a thought-provoking perspective.
"Power imbalance" is at the heart of Rubenstein's response to Bruey's prediction. She highlights the challenges workers face on Earth, from paying bills to ensuring their safety and health. This dependence on employers, she argues, will only intensify in space, where access to basic necessities like food, water, and even air, becomes a matter of life and death.
Rubenstein's assessment of space as a workplace is sobering. While we might romanticize space as a pristine frontier, it's important to remember that space is devoid of the familiar comforts of Earth. "It's not nice up there," she warns.
But worker protections are just the tip of the iceberg. The ownership of space resources is a legal gray area that's becoming increasingly contentious as commercial space operations gain momentum.
The 1967 Outer Space Treaty established that no nation could claim sovereignty over celestial bodies, ensuring that the moon, Mars, and asteroids belong to all humanity. However, the U.S. passed the Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act in 2015, allowing ownership of resources extracted from these bodies. This move sparked concern worldwide, with Silicon Valley eagerly embracing the opportunity for commercial exploitation.
Rubenstein draws an analogy: it's like saying you can't own a house but can own everything inside it. "It's more like saying you can't own the house, but you can have the floorboards and the beams," she clarifies. "The stuff that is in the moon is the moon. There's no difference between the stuff the moon contains and the moon itself."
Companies like AstroForge and Interlune have been gearing up to exploit this framework. AstroForge is pursuing asteroid mining, while Interlune aims to extract Helium-3 from the moon. The problem? These resources are non-renewable, leading to a potential race for resources between nations.
The international community's reaction to the 2015 Act was swift. Russia called it a unilateral violation of international law, while Belgium warned about global economic imbalances. In response, the U.S. created the Artemis Accords in 2020, bilateral agreements with allied nations formalizing the American interpretation of space law, particularly regarding resource extraction.
Rubenstein proposes a solution: handing control back to the UN and COPUOS. She also suggests repealing the Wolf Amendment, a law that essentially bans NASA and other federal agencies from collaborating with China or Chinese-owned companies without specific approval.
When asked about the feasibility of collaboration with China, Rubenstein points to the ambitious goals of the space industry. "If it's possible to imagine housing thousands in a space hotel or shipping a million people to Mars, where there's no air and extreme radiation, I think it's possible to imagine the U.S. talking to China," she says.
Rubenstein's broader concern is the direction space exploration is taking. She criticizes the current approach, which turns the moon into a "cosmic gas station" and prioritizes mining and warfare capabilities in orbit.
Science fiction, she argues, offers different templates for imagining space. She divides the genre into three categories: "conquest" stories that treat space as the next frontier to conquer, dystopian warnings about destructive paths, and speculative fiction that imagines alternative societies with different ideas of justice and care.
Rubenstein laments that the current template dominating space development falls into the "conquest" category. She sees an opportunity missed to extend the values and priorities of our world into the realms of space exploration.
While dramatic policy shifts might be unlikely, Rubenstein sees realistic paths forward. One is tightening environmental regulations for space actors, as we begin to understand the impact of rocket emissions and debris on the ozone layer.
A more promising opportunity lies in addressing space debris. With over 40,000 trackable objects circling Earth at high speeds, we're approaching the Kessler effect, a collision scenario that could render orbit unusable. "Space garbage is bad for everybody," Rubenstein notes, highlighting a rare issue where all stakeholders' interests align.
Rubenstein is working on a proposal for an annual conference bringing together academics, NASA representatives, and industry figures to discuss a mindful, ethical, and collaborative approach to space exploration.
The question remains: will anyone listen? With startup founders projecting major changes in space and companies positioning themselves for resource extraction, the future of space exploration hangs in the balance.
And this is the part most people miss: the ethical implications of our actions in space. It's a conversation we must have now, before it's too late.
