In March of 1958, a three-stage launch sent the Vanguard 1 satellite into space, making it the fourth ever to do so. The satellite is visually very similar to its first predecessor Sputnik 1- a smooth chrome sphere with six long antennae sticking out at various angles. From its launch to the end of its mission in 1968 it measured atmospheric density, with great success. Despite its importance, it is small enough to be held in just one hand- prompting Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev to affectionately call it ‘the grapefruit satellite’.
Defunct and inert since the end of its mission, Vanguard 1 has been in orbit for 65 years, and is the oldest human-made object in space.
Vanguard 1 and others like it marked the beginning of an increasingly catastrophic amount of space debris in orbit around Earth, an estimated 8000 metric tonnes as of 2020. This debris is composed, among other things, of expelled launch components, other defunct spacecraft and disseminated fragments of equipment. These larger objects are meticulously tracked so that spacecraft can avoid them, with an estimated 35,000 or more being tracked by space surveillance networks. Most numerous however are miniscule objects- tiny chips of paint and frozen droplets of coolant fluids such as nitrous oxide or sodium-potassium alloy, measuring less than a centimetre across. The European Space Agency (ESA) estimates 130 million tiny pieces of detritus as of 2021.
But it is not merely a matter of leaving a mess. Space junk is classified as useless or non-functional human-made material in orbit, and that orbit averages at around 8 kilometres per second, with collision speeds getting up to 15 km/s. You can imagine space debris as a whizzing, hissing cloud of gnats around the planet- increasing exponentially as spacecraft become more numerous and stay launched for longer periods. A golf-ball sized piece of shrapnel is capable of disabling a whole satellite, and even a droplet can damage a sensitive solar panel or chip a window. The space shuttle Endeavour suffered a major breach when a .5cm scrap punched right through its radiator and kept flying. The Low Earth Orbit (LEO) range (meaning anywhere less than 2,000km above the surface) is becoming increasingly crowded with junk, with risk of collision making the area more dangerous for spacecraft to inhabit.
The image of a dirty, heavy blanket of rubbish in space is distressing. The matter of space regulation is littered with terms full of heartache. Defunct satellites experience ‘orbital decay’ as they shift out of alignment. Once used up, they are often sent further out into a slower, colder, ‘graveyard orbit’. It is a delicate situation making its way to the forefront of discussions in the space industry, difficult to undo, extremely easy to exacerbate. A large contributor to the problem is anti-satellite missile testing, a single instance of which results in thousands of satellite fragments being scattered across space. A test conducted in 1985 involved the destruction of the Fengyun 1 satellite. The incident single-handedly increased the number of now-tracked debris objects by 25% and is the most catastrophic break-up event in history- even now fragments of Fengyun 1 are responsible for 30% of collision risks at that altitude. The US has conducted more missile tests that any other country, exceeding 30 tests since the beginning of the space age.
There are currently no international treatises outlawing the accidental or known creation of space debris. Space is hugely profitable, especially in the low orbit range- the global industry grew by 8% in 2022 alone to a total $546 billion, and this trend is expected to continue. In comparison to, for instance, real estate on the surface it is highly unregulated and relies heavily on international co-operation to function. There are international guidelines that recommend course of action for preventing the exacerbation of space debris, and in 2022 the U.N. issued a recommendation to all countries to ban anti-satellite missile tests. The recommendation is only that, however, and so far, only the US has complied. Additionally, there is a set of guidelines for the minimisation of space debris set out by the Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordination Committee (IADC)- but these guidelines have only been made laws in a select number of countries, making them largely optional. The rapid degradation of the space environment remains unchecked by regulation and spurred on by greed.
These guidelines, to a questionable degree of success, are focused on avoiding the Kessler Syndrome. Not in fact from a science fiction novel, as it might sound, the Kessler Syndrome was first proposed by NASA scientist Donald J. Kessler in 1978. It is a hypothetical, but very possible cascade effect of space debris collision, in which objects continue to collide and shatter, the resulting fragments colliding in turn, until space is so saturated with material that it becomes dangerous, even impossible to leave the planet’s surface. It is a dark prediction, in which Earth weaves its own shroud along a flutter of gravitational waves, threading rubbish like silk until we are entombed, suffocated. Kessler Syndrome has been observed in models and simulations- even if all space travel were to cease immediately, the cascade effect would eventually render passage through the cosmic junkyard impossible. Such a thought is hardly to be endured.
Given the focus on preventing further pollution, plans to remove the current debris are in their extreme infancy. The U.N. estimates that efforts to retrieve debris would be capable of removing about 5 large pieces- such as defunct whole satellites- per year, a disappointing number. ClearSpace-1, a clean-up space mission, is set to launch in 2025. In the words of the ESA, the project is aimed at ‘stimulating a new market for in-orbit servicing and space debris removal’. The heart sinks to think that only a commercial market could motivate the removal of flying murder metal from outer space. Issac Asimov is laughing at us, somewhere.
Space, the final frontier. Its endless expanse is framed in science fiction as a clean and untainted new world for humanity to enter- but leaving Earth will not take the humanity from us. Space is full of untapped value just like any other piece of nature, and like anything else on the surface, there are ways of ensuring that that value is not exploited or monopolised, or at the very least ensuring beyond doubt that extraction is done sustainably. The ESA puts it well:
‘Although space may seem vast, the orbits around Earth are – like the oceans, forests, land and food on Earth – a limited natural resource.’
When I think about cascade collision, end-of-life plans for dead satellites, or a future trillion-dollar-industry run by the same familiar faces and names, I think of the grapefruit satellite. The early space expeditions rung true as celebrations of human curiosity and innovation, but now space, as it stands, threatens to bring out our worst. Due to orbital drift, Vanguard 1 is expected to re-enter the atmosphere and burn up around the year 2250. But until that happens it’ll be up there- a small twinkling silver eye watching over us and watching the way we move forward into this new age of resources. I have no doubt that it will judge us, should we err.
