Placing ashes on the moon is disrespectful and bad policy

Ancient folktales suggest that anything lost on Earth magically migrates to the moon: money, cutlery, socks, and possibly even lost love. Philosopher Rene Descartes believed that souls migrated to the crater on the moon that bears their name. Private company Celestis wants to send your ashes there, with prices starting at just $12,995.

It almost worked, but a private lunar lander carrying a dog and the ashes of 70 people did not land on the moon in January as originally planned.

Once it became known that the commercial landers were carrying human remains, opposition grew, especially from the Din people. The Navajo Nation, as well as other cultures, consider the moon sacred. It was a chilling scene in the 1990s, when an official NASA spacecraft carried the ashes of pioneering lunar scientist Eugene Shoemaker.

NASA apologized for the incident and promised to consult on the matter in the future. It didn’t. The controversy has receded from the public eye since the failure of the Astrobotic-built Peregrine lander mission. But we need to talk about this.

Because of our relationship with the celestial body, the problem of transporting ashes to a celestial body that essentially belongs to all of us is not a personal issue and can only be solved by the companies that provide such services and those that fly landers to the moon. After all, the moon is governed by treaties and, more importantly, is a very important human symbol and scientific archive. Despite the private nature of these mission payloads, they are in fact conducted under a government program called CLPS (Commercial Lunar Payload Services Program).

What we send to the moon says a lot about who we are. Wealthy clients and the companies that serve them appear to be getting priority in this debate. However, the government could enact regulations prohibiting the sending of ashes to the moon through NASA and U.S. private companies.

The spiritual, or if you prefer, moral arguments are profound. But if you don’t believe that, there’s a practical, utilitarian reason to ban ashes on the moon. There is another reason to be wary, involving the slippery slope of unregulated non-scientific commercial vanity payloads.

First, we should realize that whether you believe it or not, Ding has made a valid argument. They say that as a sacred object in their worldview, the moon should not be a burial ground. The analogy may not be perfect, but imagine if I were to sell an ash service where small bottles of human ashes were deposited in your church. You may get angry.

But the Moon is more than just a place of worship near you. It doesn’t belong to anyone, and while the Outer Space Treaty doesn’t outright ban the storage of ashes, an international conversation about respecting and managing the moon has been ongoing at least since water ice was discovered in dark craters at the moon’s south pole.

A dismissive attitude toward a culture or a country’s concerns does not bode well for a well-designed, thoughtful presence on the moon.Speaking of dismissiveness, Celestis CEO Charles Chafer had this to say in January: Honestly, while we respect everyone’s beliefs, we don’t find [the Din] Compelling concerns. Of course, his bottom line was not taken into account. One wonders how the more than 30 international signatories to NASA’s Artemis Accords view the issue of ashes.

I cannot speak to the latest Din perspective because the Navajo Nation did not respond to my request. NASA also did not respond when asked for comment.

But Alvin Harvey, a doctoral student in aeronautics and astronautics at MIT, published in 2024 “nature: Bringing together Indigenous and Western science can help solve problems and develop policies and innovative ways to protect and celebrate our shared moon. After all, don’t we all want to be good relatives?

Which brings me to the practical reason why banning ashes on the moon is important: because Aboriginal people have much more to offer NASA and the future of humanity in space than the Celestis executive. Remember, two of NASA’s astronauts are from Aboriginal communities. There should be more.

I discussed these concerns with Harvey last year while completing my new Natural History of the Moon. Here’s part of what he told me: I feel like our people, especially our young people, the indigenous people, who I have the privilege of serving or being around NASA, they love NASA. They love space. They loved the idea of ​​being able to dream and travel there. I think it’s something intrinsic to us because the universe, the stars, the moon are the things that connect us all, especially Aboriginal people. These are our ancestors, our grandmothers and grandfathers, and I think we want to visit them too. You want to see your grandma; you want to see your grandpa. However, there is a caveat. When you go to your grandparents’ house, you don’t want to come out of there crying.

The moral status of other worlds is not just a topic for philosophers and policymakers. This is a question worth thinking about for all of us.

How do you define respect for the moon? How can we stay on the moon without crying? Think about it: That companion world gave Earth an axial tilt, making seasonal changes possible. It provides us with tides, and early tidal mixing may have been crucial to the development of life. The moon prompted prehistoric humans to develop sophisticated timekeeping technology. Galileo’s observation of the moon through his telescope sparked the scientific revolution.

I’m not a spiritual person. In fact, I am a staunch materialist. I don’t think the moon cares. But we should be concerned about our behavior there. That means understanding our history with the moon.

Finally, there is a prudent reason to ban ashes because the following may occur.

If we can send our dead to the moon in little capsules, why not build a lunar cemetery? Lunar mausoleum? If we can do it without consulting all the stakeholders who care about these issues, then why not do what we want there? After all, what is the threshold for inappropriate private activity on the moon? How about advertising on the moon, which is visible from Earth? How about a photo of a digital billboard on the moon? How about spreading Goop products across the sea of ​​rain as a marketing campaign?

Under the able leadership of For All the Moon, Congress has taken steps to direct us not to interfere with cultural heritage on the Moon, especially the Apollo landing sites. No one thinks they should be exploited.

But what if I decided to project my company logo and slogan on the side of the Apollo spacecraft? After all, this isn’t a permanent change. Who’s going to stop me? Maybe Celestis and I could advertise the Apollo 11 lunar death module on the side of its descent module. why not?

Where does it stop?

Look, it wouldn’t be a huge lift to ban ashes and corporate logos and slogans visible from anywhere on the moon, let alone intentionally spreading substances on the moon.

Payloads sent by U.S. landers via CLPS or completely privately should be scientific or passive artistic in nature, just like the Moonark project, which also did not reach the moon via the Peregrine Falcon lander. Moon Ark is a celebration of humanism and diverse perspectives, critical thinking, and nature itself. It is the antithesis of the Celestis payload, which contains parts of the privileged dead.

If Celestis and other such companies want to send remains into orbit or deep space, that’s their prerogative. But the moon is not a cemetery, nor do lost socks and souls go there.

Christopher Cokinos is a poet and science writer who has written for The American Scholar, Astronomy, the Los Angeles Times, Sky & Telescope, Discover.com, and others. His new book, Still Bright: The History of the Moon from Ancient Times to Tomorrow, an immersive history of lunar culture and science. He used a 10-inch reflector to observe the moon from his home in Utah.

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