Space Doesn’t Need More Billionaires. It Needs More Rules

Editor’s Note: This article is an opinion piece responding to “The Price of Progress: The Hidden Costs of Privatizing Space”. Because this editorial builds upon the research, evidence, and background presented in that article, readers are encouraged to read “The Price of Progress” before continuing.

When I first started researching the privatization of space, I expected to find a story about innovation, and in many ways, I did.

I found reusable rockets that dramatically lowered launch costs. I found satellite internet connecting communities that traditional infrastructure could never reach. I found private companies accomplishing missions that, only a few decades ago, seemed possible only through governments with enormous budgets.

What I didn't expect to find was an industry moving faster than the rules meant to govern it.

That realization completely changed my perspective.

Researching The Price of Progress: The Hidden Costs of Privatizing Space forced me to look beyond the excitement of rocket launches and ambitious missions to Mars. Instead, I began asking a much simpler question:

Just because private companies can shape humanity's future in space, does that mean they should?

For me, the answer is no—not without far greater space launch regulations.

That doesn't mean I believe private companies should be pushed out of space. Quite the opposite. Companies like SpaceX, Rocket Lab, and Blue Origin have transformed the industry. According to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), commercial activity accounted for nearly 78 percent of the global space economy in 2023, and the industry is projected to surpass one trillion dollars by 2040. The private sector has accelerated innovation in ways governments alone likely could not have achieved.

Innovation, however, should never be mistaken for immunity from responsibility.

The debate surrounding commercial spaceflight often becomes framed as a choice between government bureaucracy and private innovation. I think that's the wrong debate entirely.

The real question isn't whether companies belong in space.

It's whether companies should be allowed to profit from a shared environment without proving they can protect it. To me, the answer is straightforward.

No company should be allowed to profit from orbit without first proving it can leave orbit responsibly.

That principle should become the foundation of modern space policy.

One of the reasons I reached this conclusion is that space doesn't operate like a normal marketplace. If one company makes a poor business decision on Earth, the consequences are often limited to that company and its customers. Space works differently. Every satellite launched into orbit becomes part of an environment shared by every nation, every scientist, every astronaut, and every future mission.

When one company contributes to orbital congestion, everyone inherits the risk.

Scientists have warned about this problem for nearly fifty years. In 1978, NASA scientist Donald Kessler proposed what is now known as the Kessler Syndrome—the possibility that collisions between satellites could generate debris that triggers even more collisions, eventually making portions of Earth's orbit increasingly hazardous or even unusable

Unfortunately, this is no longer just a theoretical concern.

According to the European Space Agency, more than 40,000 pieces of orbital debris are currently tracked, while an estimated one million fragments larger than one centimeter remain too small to monitor consistently. At orbital speeds approaching 18,000 miles per hour, even a fragment no larger than a marble can destroy an operational satellite.

Whenever I think about those numbers, I'm reminded of something we would never tolerate here on Earth.

Imagine if an airline could leave retired airplanes wherever they landed.

Imagine if cargo ships abandoned broken shipping containers directly in the middle of busy trade routes.

Imagine if trucking companies simply left wrecked vehicles scattered across interstate highways because removing them would reduce profits.

It sounds ridiculous. Yet in orbit, we've allowed a system that isn't entirely different.

Companies receive enormous economic benefits from launching satellites, but once those satellites reach the end of their operational lives, responsibility becomes far less clear. Existing international agreements establish broad principles for responsible behavior in space, but many were written during the Cold War, when governments—not corporations—were the primary actors beyond Earth. The commercial space industry has evolved far faster than the regulations governing it.

That gap between technological progress and public policy worries me far more than privatization itself.

I don't believe private companies are acting maliciously. I believe they're responding exactly as markets encourage them to respond. Launch more satellites. Expand services. Increase market share. Move faster than competitors.

The problem is that markets reward growth; they don't always reward stewardship. That distinction matters because orbit isn't private property; it is one of the few environments that belongs to all of humanity.

When companies profit from using a shared resource, preserving that resource shouldn't be optional. It should be part of the cost of doing business.

Some would argue that companies already have incentives to avoid collisions because damaging their own satellites hurts their bottom line.

They're right—to an extent.

But those incentives don't account for the broader consequences. A collision that creates thousands of debris fragments threatens satellites belonging to governments, universities, competitors, and countries that had nothing to do with the original launch. The financial benefits remain private. The risks become public.

That's exactly why I don't think voluntary guidelines are enough anymore.

If protecting orbit depends entirely on companies choosing to do the right thing, we're placing the future of a shared environment in the hands of organizations whose primary legal responsibility is to their shareholders.

That's asking businesses to solve a public policy problem.

History suggests governments should do that instead.

The question then becomes: what should governments actually do?

Calls for "more regulation" sound appealing, but they're also frustratingly vague. If stronger oversight is truly necessary, then policymakers need something concrete to implement—not just another reminder that space is becoming more crowded.

If I could change one aspect of today's regulatory system, it would be the launch licensing process.

Before any commercial satellite receives approval to launch, operators should be required to demonstrate four things.

First, they should submit a verified end-of-life disposal plan explaining exactly how the satellite will be safely removed from orbit once its mission is complete.

Second, satellites should be equipped with autonomous collision-avoidance capabilities capable of responding to conjunction warnings without relying entirely on manual intervention.

Third, companies should maintain continuous tracking and publicly share orbital data with international space traffic management systems to improve transparency and reduce collision risks.

Finally—and perhaps most importantly—companies should post a refundable orbital sustainability bond before launch. Similar to environmental reclamation bonds used in industries like mining, this financial guarantee would only be returned after the satellite has been successfully deorbited or relocated to an approved graveyard orbit at the end of its operational life. If a company abandoned its satellite without justification, the bond would instead fund debris-removal efforts and future orbital sustainability projects.

This isn't a form of punishment, but rather it ensures accountability.

Today, companies are rewarded for successfully reaching orbit. Under a sustainability bond system, they would also be rewarded for leaving orbit responsibly.

That single change would fundamentally shift the incentives of commercial spaceflight.

Instead of asking companies to voluntarily prioritize long-term sustainability over short-term profits, we would simply make sustainability part of the cost of doing business.

Some may argue that these requirements would increase costs and discourage innovation.

I understand that concern.

The commercial space industry has progressed remarkably because companies have been able to move quickly, take risks, and challenge traditional approaches. Excessive bureaucracy could certainly slow that momentum.

But history repeatedly shows that innovation and regulation are not mutually exclusive.

Commercial aviation remains one of the safest forms of transportation in the world because governments established strict safety standards rather than allowing airlines to regulate themselves. Pharmaceutical companies continue developing life-saving medicines despite extensive clinical regulations. Nuclear power, commercial shipping, and civil engineering all operate under rigorous oversight because the consequences of failure extend far beyond individual companies.

Space should be treated no differently.

When an accident in orbit has the potential to affect every satellite operator on Earth, the conversation is no longer about protecting individual businesses. It's about protecting a shared global resource.

The good news is that governments wouldn't be starting from scratch.

The Federal Aviation Administration already oversees commercial launch licensing within the United States. The Federal Communications Commission regulates many satellite communications systems. Internationally, the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) has developed long-term sustainability guidelines encouraging responsible behavior in orbit. Meanwhile, organizations like the European Space Agency have launched initiatives such as the Zero Debris Charter, which aims to significantly reduce the creation of new orbital debris by 2030.

These efforts represent meaningful progress.

They simply don't go far enough.

Many existing guidelines remain voluntary. Enforcement varies significantly between countries, and companies often operate under different regulatory expectations depending on where they launch. Space, however, does not recognize national borders. A satellite launched by one country can create risks for every other nation sharing the same orbital environment.

That's why I believe orbital sustainability should become an international licensing standard rather than a collection of voluntary recommendations.

Researchers have described the rapid expansion of satellite megaconstellations as an "unregulated geoengineering experiment." This phrase stuck out to me, not because I believe commercial spaceflight is inherently reckless, but because it highlights how much uncertainty still surrounds an industry that is growing at an extraordinary pace.

We shouldn't wait until the consequences become irreversible before deciding how to regulate them.

That has happened too many times throughout history.

Commercial spaceflight has proven that private companies can accomplish extraordinary things.

The next challenge is proving they can do so responsibly.

The future of space shouldn't be determined solely by whichever company can launch the most satellites, attract the most investment, or dominate the largest share of the market. It should be shaped by policies that recognize a simple truth: orbit is not an unlimited resource, and preserving it is a responsibility shared by all who use it.

No company should be allowed to profit from orbit without first proving it can leave orbit responsibly.

To me, that isn't anti-business.

It isn't anti-innovation.

It's simply the price of using a place that belongs to everyone.