Space junk pollution

 

Thousands of satellites that burn up in Earth’s atmosphere are leaving more than just streaks of light in the sky.

A groundbreaking study published in the Journal of Geophysical Research: Atmospheres has revealed that dying satellites – those burning up on re-entry after completing their missions in orbit – are releasing pollutants that could have alarming consequences for both the climate and ozone layer.

As satellite megaconstellations grow exponentially, the problem is no longer confined to a niche realm of astrophysics. It’s rapidly becoming a global environmental issue.

Today, there are more than 9,000 satellites orbiting Earth and by 2040 that number is predicted to swell to over 60,000. The driving force behind this growth is the rapid deployment of government and commercial satellite constellations, primarily for broadband internet coverage by companies such as SpaceX and Amazon.

But, as the saying goes, what goes up must come down – and when these satellites complete their missions after relatively short lifetimes, they are routinely deorbited to burn up in the atmosphere.

While this may seem like a tidy solution, it’s anything but clean. The study, led by atmospheric scientist Jamie Shutler and colleagues, finds that re-entering satellites release thousands of tonnes of metal particles into the stratosphere every year.

Chief among these is aluminum oxide (Al₂O₃), a substance with the potential to alter temperature patterns and disrupt delicate atmospheric chemistry.

The authors estimate that by 2040 as many as 10,000 metric tonnes of aluminum oxide could be entering the upper atmosphere annually. This figure represents a staggering increase compared to today’s levels and signals a future where human-made atmospheric contamination could rival or exceed that of natural processes like volcanic eruptions.

Aluminum oxide is no benign byproduct. According to the study, its presence can cause localised heating of up to 1.5C in the middle and upper atmosphere.

“These temperature changes could disrupt wind patterns and other critical dynamics of the stratosphere,” the authors warn.

Perhaps more disturbingly, these disruptions could delay the recovery of the ozone layer – a thin but vital shield that protects life on Earth from harmful ultraviolet radiation.

In an unusually short three paragraph article on its website The Guardian, in summarising the findings, quotes Shutler as saying: “This is a new, emerging chemical pathway that is completely anthropogenic. We are fundamentally changing the chemistry of the atmosphere in a way that has not been considered before.”

The satellite industry has long viewed atmospheric re-entry as a convenient and eco-friendly solution to space junk. But as this study makes clear, the process may be quietly shifting the baseline of Earth’s climate systems.

Particles produced during re-entry are not merely disbursed and forgotten. Instead, they form persistent aerosols that can act as radiative agents – essentially reflecting or trapping heat – while also playing a role in catalysing chemical reactions that destroy ozone.

Aluminum is not the only concern. The study also highlights the release of other metals such as titanium, iron, copper, and lithium – all of which have their own complex chemical interactions and unknown long-term impacts.

The exact consequences of this metallised upper atmosphere are still being modelled, but early signs point to a troubling new front in humanity’s planetary impact.

Researchers also note the increasing role of some rocket launches, particularly from private companies, which contribute additional pollutants like black carbon. Such compounds rise into the stratosphere, where they can remain for years, compounding the problem.

A 2022 study by the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) warned that soot from rockets alone could increase stratospheric temperatures and disrupt polar vortexes. The new satellite re-entry data adds another layer to this growing concern.

Ironically, many of the satellites responsible for these emissions are part of systems designed to monitor and combat climate change. In attempting to connect the world and collect vital environmental data, we may be undermining the very systems that sustain life on Earth.

The implications of the study are sobering. The scientific community and regulatory bodies have, until now, paid scant attention to the effects of mass satellite re-entry. That’s likely to change. As one of the study’s co-authors bluntly put it: “We’re geoengineering the stratosphere without realising it.”

So, what now? The researchers call for urgent reforms to how we manage satellite end-of-life processes.

Alternatives could include designing spacecraft with minimal pollutant output on re-entry, retrieving and disposing of satellites differently, or even developing reusable systems that don’t require destructive descent at all.

These options will require international cooperation and new frameworks for space governance – something the UN’s Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space has only recently begun to explore.

Earth’s climate crisis has taught us at least one painful lesson: seemingly invisible emissions, once dismissed or underestimated, can have catastrophic consequences. Now, with space becoming the next industrial frontier, we must apply that lesson to the skies above.

Satellites may be our eyes in the heavens, but their burning remains are falling into our future. The time to act is now, while we still have the tools to prevent a new kind of environmental crisis.

As the paper’s authors conclude: “The cumulative effect of satellite re-entries must be taken seriously as part of Earth’s changing atmospheric budget.”

If we fail to heed this warning, the sky itself may become the next casualty of human excess.

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Article references:

Journal of Geophysical Research: Atmospheres - Investigating the Potential AtmosphericAccumulation and Radiative Impact of the Coming Increase in Satellite ReentryFrequency 

The Guardian - Dying satellites can drive climate change and ozone depletion

Portugal's rocket island

 

The Atlantic-facing nation of Portugal is making waves in the final frontier — and it’s doing so from one of its most remote and stunning outposts.

High above the Atlantic Ocean, on a windswept corner of Santa Maria Island in the Azores, Europe’s newest space ambitions are taking flight.

With the successful launch of a small research rocket in September 2024, the archipelago is no longer just a jewel of eco-tourism and biodiversity — it’s officially on the map as a contender for Europe’s next spaceport.

“This is about more than just launching rockets,” says Bruno Carvalho, director of the Atlantic Spaceport Consortium (ASC). “It’s about proving that Portugal is ready to play a serious role in the future of space access in Europe.”

The project’s symbolic lift-off came with the launch of a suborbital research rocket called GAMA, designed and built in Portugal. While small — the rocket stood just 5.2 metres tall — the mission marked a major milestone.

GAMA reached a modest altitude of around 3.5 km and parachuted safely back to Earth, providing invaluable test data for future, more ambitious flights.

“It was crucial for us to demonstrate that the operational competency to launch and recover rockets exists in Portugal,” told me during an international space conference in Italy.

“This was not just about building a rocket. It was about the whole operational framework — telemetry, tracking and recovery. The next step is to scale this capability up.”

The launch also marked another milestone: the first suborbital rocket to be launched from Portuguese soil. Or rather, Portuguese lava — the Azores being a volcanic archipelago formed millions of years ago in the heart of the Atlantic.

Santa Maria, the easternmost island in the Azores, is geographically and strategically well placed to support a range of satellite launch trajectories.

Unlike mainland Europe, it offers wide access to the ocean and minimal air traffic — crucial factors for modern launch safety zones.

“This fills a huge gap in Europe’s launch capabilities,” said Hugo Costa, a board member of Portugal Space, the country’s national space agency.

“Right now, there’s no other open-access commercial spaceport in Europe. We want to give Europe — and the world — more options.”

Indeed, Europe has been heavily reliant on the Guiana Space Centre in South America for launching satellites into orbit.

But with global demand for small satellite launches booming and increasing pressure to develop independent European capabilities, the timing couldn’t be better.

The near-term goal is to support more suborbital launches like GAMA, refining procedures and building operational expertise.

Longer-term the vision is bolder: a fully functioning commercial spaceport that can support orbital launches — rockets delivering payloads into Earth orbit and potentially beyond.

“There are already multiple companies interested in launching from here,” Carvalho noted. “What we’re building is a flexible, open-access spaceport that’s lighter, faster and more cost-effective than traditional launch centres.”

Importantly, the Santa Maria site has already passed several key technical and environmental evaluations, and Portugal’s supportive regulatory framework is helping smooth the way for commercial partnerships.

The development isn’t just about rockets — it’s about creating a space economy. Santa Maria’s spaceport is expected to bring jobs, attract international investment, and strengthen Portugal’s scientific and technological profile.

Portugal Space, established in 2019, is spearheading the effort as part of its ‘Portugal Space 2030’ strategy, which focuses on developing a home-grown space industry and leveraging satellite technology to support environmental monitoring, telecommunications and navigation.

Local businesses are also likely to benefit — not only from construction and logistics contracts, but potentially from high-tech spin-offs and an influx of aerospace professionals and tourists.

Portugal’s Atlantic location — both physically and politically — gives it a unique position. While committed to the European Space Agency (ESA), Portugal can carve out its own role, open to both European and international commercial partners.

The Atlantic Spaceport Consortium believes that this open-access model is the future of space — lighter regulation, lower costs and flexible, responsive services for a growing range of missions, from Earth observation satellites to research payloads.

“If Europe wants to remain competitive, we need more spaceports,” Costa argues. “The Azores can provide something different — and very valuable.”

While the world’s attention may be focused on the likes of Elon Musk and SpaceX, a quieter space revolution is happening here in Portugal.

With its blend of vision, location and determination, Santa Maria might soon be the starting point for Europe’s next generation of space missions — helping Portugal become not just a participant in the space race, but a leader too.

As Carvalho put it, “This is a place where history and future meet — where ancient volcanoes are now pointing the way to the stars.”

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 Caption: The Malbusca launch site on the south coast of Santa Maria, Azores.
Photo: Pedro Roque/Atlantic Spaceport Consortium

Clive Simpson has worked as a journalist covering the global space industry for three decades and is Editor-in-Chief of ROOM Space Journal. He’s been a regular visitor to Portugal's Algarve for many years and his first novel, about life in post-climate change world, is being published soon. This article is an edited version of Azores rising – Portugal’s Atlantic outpost vying to become space gateway

Feminism at the final frontier

There’s been no shortage of opinion – and vitriol – surrounding Blue Origin’s recent suborbital spaceflight, which carried an all-female civilian crew: Kerianne Flynn, Katy Perry, Lauren Sánchez, Aisha Bowe, Gayle King, and Amanda Nguyễn.

Much of the media and social commentary has focused on the optics of the mission, questioning its framing as a feminist milestone or as a meaningful step forward for gender equity in space.

One article that particularly caught my attention – as I imagine it did for many others working in or adjacent to the space sector – appeared in the Guardian newspaper, provocatively titled ‘Blue Origin’s space flight is a giant leap – for Jeff Bezos’s ego, not feminism’.

As a journalist covering the international space scene for several decades, I am committed to a broad, international discourse on space and I believe this kind of cultural commentary deserves engagement, not dismissal.

One of the questions it raises – about symbolism, access and power – matters, especially at this juncture in the evolution of human spaceflight.

At its core, the Guardian article critiques the framing of the latest Blue Origin suborbital mission as a feminist milestone, particularly through the participation of Lauren Sánchez, journalist, private space executive and partner of Jeff Bezos. 

The writer challenges the idea that this spectacle – a high-profile flight on a privately-owned rocket – should be viewed as a triumph of gender progress. And she is right to point out the risk of conflating elite participation with systemic change.

But space, like society, is complicated. The symbols and milestones we project onto it carry weight, even when imperfect. Maybe we should ask: what does it mean to celebrate progress in space – and for whom is it progress?

Yes, there is a performative element to space tourism, especially when conducted by billionaires. But there’s also a very real and rapid shift in who has access to space – not just physically, but through influence, investment and imagination.

The presence of women on a mission like this is worth noting, even as we remain sharply aware of the broader inequities and exclusions in both space exploration and society.

It is no longer just about astronauts from elite military or science backgrounds. The emergence of private crewed spaceflight, for all its awkward growing pains and PR gloss, is undeniably reshaping public perceptions.

The fact that people are now debating whether or not a flight was feminist enough is in itself a sign that space has entered the cultural mainstream in ways we couldn’t have imagined a generation ago.

We can – and should – celebrate the long-overdue recognition of trailblazers like Wally Funk (on a previous Blue Origin flight), without pretending these moments represent full equality in spaceflight. We can acknowledge Lauren Sánchez’s visibility as a woman in the private space sector, without anointing her a feminist icon.

These stories sit on a spectrum, not of “success” or “failure” but of progress and evolution. Representation alone is not the end of the journey but it is a signpost on the road.

It is important to explore issues around gender, identity, power and access in space. True inclusion goes beyond seat assignments – it’s about who builds, who decides, who funds and who dreams.

It’s also about the stories we tell and who gets to tell them. If anything, the Blue Origin flight should remind us to keep pushing for deeper, more structural inclusion in space – for women, for underrepresented communities, for voices outside the billionaires’ club.

In this broader context, current US leadership under the Trump administration is playing a significant role – and may potentially end up with much to answer for. His return to power coincided with a critical juncture in space governance, where commercial ambition is surging ahead of public policy and global cooperation is giving way to renewed nationalism.

If space is to remain a shared domain – one that reflects collective human progress rather than elite ambition or geopolitical dominance – then leadership matters. Decisions made now about regulation, funding, international partnerships and orbital stewardship will shape who has access to space for decades to come – and under what terms.

As we look ahead to a decade that will likely include permanent lunar infrastructure, space-based manufacturing, and the rise of private space stations, we must keep asking hard questions.

Not just about who’s on board, but who’s left behind – and how we build a spacefaring future that reflects the full diversity of humanity.

Space is not neutral. It reflects the values of those who shape it. Let’s make sure those values are expansive, thoughtful and rooted in something bigger than marketing gloss or curated photo ops.

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Article: Blue Origin’s space flight is a giant leap – for JeffBezos’s ego, not feminism

Caption: NS-31 astronauts celebrate after a successful flight to space (from left): Kerianne Flynn, Katy Perry, Lauren Sánchez, Aisha Bowe, Gayle King and Amanda Nguyễn. (14 April 2025). 

Photo: Blue Origin

Forecasting the unpredictable

 

It’s easy to think of space as distant, something “out there” and far removed from our everyday lives. But in reality, Earth sits within the outer atmosphere of the Sun – and that means we’re constantly exposed to its moods.

As I explored in my recent (Spring 2025) article for ROOM Space Journal, the growing risk posed by solar storms is something we can’t afford to ignore, especially as solar activity ramps up heading toward its next peak in 2025.

Solar storms, or geomagnetic storms, are the result of explosive bursts of energy and charged particles from the Sun, often in the form of coronal mass ejections (CMEs).

When these clouds of plasma reach Earth, they collide with our planet’s magnetic field and can have serious consequences – not just for satellites and astronauts in space, but for the technology we depend on here on the ground.

The most powerful recorded storm, known as the Carrington Event of 1859, caused telegraph systems to spark, fail and in, some cases, catch fire. If something of that magnitude happened today, the impact would be far worse – potentially knocking out power grids, communications systems and disrupting financial markets and aviation.

Our modern world depends on satellites for everything from navigation and internet access to weather forecasting, global banking and national security. We’re far more vulnerable now than we were in 1859 and I wanted to highlight in the article just how interconnected – and fragile – these systems are.

Even a moderate solar storm can cause GPS errors, disrupt aircraft communications on polar routes, or degrade satellite performance. A more powerful storm could take down satellites altogether or induce surges in power grids, leading to blackouts across large regions. The more we depend on space-based infrastructure, the more we stand to lose.

While we’ve made some progress in monitoring solar activity, we’re still not great at forecasting. Tools like NASA’s Parker Solar Probe, SOHO and DSCOVR satellites help scientists track solar conditions in real time, but long-term prediction – on the scale of weeks or months – remains elusive.

The gap between awareness and preparedness is what concerns me most. Many critical services, including some power and satellite operators, are beginning to implement protective measures. But as I discovered while researching the article, there’s still a lack of global coordination, standards, or a unified plan for how we might respond to a truly disruptive solar event.

In the UK, the Met Office Space Weather Operations Centre monitors the Sun and provides alerts, and solar storms are now recognised as a top-tier threat on the UK’s National Risk Register.

That’s a good start. But at a global level, we're still playing catch-up. There’s a real need for coordinated international investment in forecasting, infrastructure resilience and public awareness.

Writing this article was a stark reminder. We are quite literally living in the atmosphere of a star. And that star, while life-giving, is also volatile.

As we send ever more satellites into Earth orbit, and as industries, economies, and daily life rely more on space infrastructure, space weather becomes a shared risk that we can’t ignore.

It’s not about fear – it’s about foresight. Solar storms may sound like the stuff of science fiction, but they’re very real. The next big one isn’t a matter of if, but when.

If you’re interested in the full article, it’s available in the latest issue of ROOM Space Journal. It’s a timely piece, and I hope it adds to the growing conversation around space sustainability and resilience in the space age.

The article was sparked by ‘Life in the Sun’s Atmosphere: From Disruption to Resilience’, a photography-led science communication project by award-winning photographer and creative strategist, Max Alexander.

It was launched at Lloyds of London in March and focuses on the disruption that space weather can and will have on the Earth’s infrastructure and networks.

The Sun is on an 11-year cycle which is building to ‘solar maximum’ later in 2025, when the Sun is at its most active and the threat of damage and disruption from space weather is at its highest.