Space has a PR problem. It’s time to make it great again

They’re blasting Katy Perry into space. Not because her last album bombed so hard that we’re exiling her but for far more mundane, publicity-based reasons. The pop star is joining the coming launch of the Jeff Bezos-owned Blue Origin’s New Shepard rocket, sending an all-female crew to the edge of space, perhaps searching for the “woman’s world” where people want to buy her album.

In my opinion, using space as a stunt to recover from a failed album is just another nail in the coffin of the great black void’s reputation. This comes off the back of more big space news: two astronauts who were meant to be in space for eight days got stuck in orbit for nine months. Sounds interesting at first – stranded in space, just like the movie Gravity! But instead of glamorous people shooting through the abyss and sacrificing themselves, these astronauts spent their time doing 900 hours of unplanned research. Space used to be interesting.

Katy Perry is off to space.Credit:

Space used to be considered the “final frontier”, a Wild West of mystery and excitement, a sci-fi wonderland where anything could happen or be discovered. As a society we’ve always long obsessed over space: from ancient civilisations who thought the gods played out their dramas there, to Victorians who used to daydream wild plans of getting shot out of cannons to ride a comet, to the space race and moon landing of the ’60s. Everyone gathered around their huge boxy televisions to see some guys take one small step for man, etc. It used to be exciting!

The problem is that since the moon landing it’s all been downhill for space, which is ironic considering it’s very high up in the air. We’ve become much better at sending rockets into space, we’ve filled it with satellites and bits of junk, and we’ve sent robots to other planets. And what have we found? Nothing. I’m sure there are priceless discoveries and scientific data found every day, but from a PR perspective we need something with pizazz. An alien castle on Mars; jars full of parasitic goo; some kind of unknowable plinth that will force us to question our very place in the universe. Handfuls of moon dirt and some grainy videos of a big red desert just don’t cut it in today’s world, where space has to compete against TikTok videos of people falling over at weddings. Was the moon landing actually that interesting, or was it mostly because the only competition was a re-run of I Love Lucy?

This worldwide disappointment with space probably explains the rise of Flat Earthers and moon landing Truthers (who believe the moon landing was faked in a Hollywood studio). Are they really lunatics or are they just people who dare to dream of a space that’s actually exciting again? Probably both.

You can tell space is in its flop era because the worst people in the world have turned it into their playground. Space should just be for scientists and aliens, but it’s become a status toy for the billionaires, including the world’s most committed dad Elon Musk running the dorkily named “SpaceX” via which he recently used his trillions to shoot a car into space. Not only have billionaires ruined the Earth, they’ve now turned space into a garbage chute. Anything that these billionaire tech bros are invested in – bitcoin, premature ejaculation and now space – is inherently uncool. Why can’t they be interested in something like “feeding the homeless” or “buying Patrick Lenton a sword” or “wearing a shirt that fits”, that would benefit from their money?

While space certainly had a moment in the past, I concede I’ve always held a grudge against its vast, oxygenless expanse. I believe in sticking to our lanes and never going too high or too low. Both space and deep under the water, places like the Mariana Trench, are full of things that are none of our business (such as The Meg, which, I believe, is a documentary). Mankind was meant to stand around on flat surfaces, like cows dotting a hillside, chewing gently – not going too far up, or too far down.

Plus, I have always detested space considering that its very existence somehow justified sending a good dog named Laika to die alone up there, a story so sad that I want to shoot myself into the sun instead of thinking about it for too long. At least, in space’s defence, we’ve replaced innocent dogs and chimps by sending our less popular singers up there instead.

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