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W4315646741 abstract "From the day Dennis Tito became the first private citizen to travel to space for no other reason but the sake of the experience itself, space tourism stops being a chimaera and became a reality, albeit an elitist one. And if only seven passengers flew to the International Space Station (ISS) on board of Russian Soyuz rockets during the new millennium's first decade, other modalities of space tourism—such as sub-orbital travel—are increasingly getting commercialised due to its growing technological and financial accessibility (Chang, 2020). After years of hiatus, the sub-orbital commercial flights resumed in 2019, propelled by the combined contribution of the public (e.g., NASA) and private companies (such as Virgin Galactic and Blue Origin) in the main spacefaring countries. New entrants in the launching segment, even countries with no previous spacefaring history, such as New Zealand, have enhanced the potential for further development (Zhang & Wang, 2020). 2021 saw the record number of 14 civilians who experienced space travel (Space Foundation, 2022), almost doubling the number of all previous years combined. The vision of SpaceX (2020) to commercialise space flights to Mars by 2050 is regarded a distant but increasingly possible with the recent technological development and economic interest in space. Other endeavours, such as the building of orbiting space hotels (the Voyager Station due to open as early as 2027; CNN, 2021) are other, visionary on-going efforts to expand the remit of extreme tourism. And if until recently the market dimensions were limited, they are rapidly peaking up pace. A report from Northern Sky Research (2021) estimates at US $ 385 million revenues from orbital tourism, projected to grow as high as US$ 605 million by 2029. The suborbital segment looks even more dynamic, with an estimated compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 24.5% in the decade 2021–2031. All this raises important questions about its sustainability and even the case for space tourism in the first place. Some consider it environmentally costly when not ethically unsavoury (Cohen, 2017; Guerster et al., 2019), and requiring overcoming formidable regulatory challenges (Padhy & Padhy, 2021). Especially for what concerns the costing side of space tourism, there is no breakthrough in sight, even though reusable rockets have done considerable progress in lowering the budget requirements for space missions (CSIS, 2020). Until the entire space adventure is dominated by the so-called ‘tyranny of the rocket equation’ (Petitt, as cited by Young, 2015, p.45), which translates in 90% of the weight of a rocket being just the fuel to lift it off the planet's surface, the economic burden will remain, and so will the associated environmental costs. Hence, the need to critically evaluate whether space tourism can indeed be made sustainable and ethical and, if so, what are the preconditions for making this happen. Interestingly, while any sustainability discourse for space is derived from the sustainable tourism frameworks, the applicability of sustainability indicators to space tourism remains unclear and never clearly defined before, a clear gap in the knowledge we have identified in this study. Although most authors are optimistic about the economic sustainability of space tourism, the predictions for social and environmental sustainability are not as promising. The moral dilemma of the equal distribution of space tourism generated wealth and its environmental impact are sensitive areas that require robust conceptualisation and empirical analysis. Moreover, the growing interest in space tourism research makes the absence of a theoretically grounded and robust analytical framework to enhance sustainability even more remarkable. This is the second, evident knowledge gap this article intends to address: devise a conceptual model that, building on the sustainable tourism framework and Dubin's (1970) theory building two-stage approach, is adapted to space tourism as an example of ‘frontier’ tourism with unique peculiar characters. Section 2 offers a working definition of space tourism, discusses how it fits in the overall debates about ethical tourism and sustainability, and is instrumental for what comes next: a systematic review of the literature of sustainable tourism from Dennis Tito's travel in 2001 up to 2021, aiming at identifying relevant indicators for sustainable tourism and evaluate their applicability to space tourism. Section 3 briefly covers the methodological aspects of both systematic reviews and conceptual models and identifies the above-mentioned indicators. Building on the critical analysis of 101 indicators, Section 4 designs a brand-new conceptual model for sustainable space tourism. As it stands, there is a fourth field (technology) altogether missing in the traditional model by White et al. (2006) and derived studies. Adopting Industry 4.0 (I4.0 afterwards; Sun et al., 2012; Baldwin, 2019; Schwab, 2015; Kagermann et al., 2011; Lasi et al., 2014) framework in relation to the space sector (Cristians & Methven, 2017; Forcina & Falcone, 2021; Vaidya et al., 2018), the analysis demonstrates why technology represents the cornerstone of the conceptual model presented in this article. Section 5 concludes that sustainability can be fully achieved in space tourism only when technology takes the front seat, with Industry 4.0 and its nine pillars unleashing their revolutionary capabilities. Due to the nature and scope of this study, we have focused mainly on sub-orbital tourism, although its conclusions can be opportunely expanded to include outer space activities. The final section also explores the potential of the conceptual model herein developed for empirical research, paving the way for next steps, future research, and proof of concept. There is still ambiguity about what qualifies as space tourism (Johnson & Martin, 2016). The European Space Agency (ESA 2008, p. 19) defines it as an “activity that will encompass the execution of sub-orbital flights by privately-funded and/or privately-operated vehicles and the associated technology development driven by the space tourism market”. Chang (2017) and Cohen and Spector (2019a) define commercial space travel as leisure and recreation, allowing tourists to experience zero-gravity and celestial observation. Spector (2020b) categorises space tourism into three broad subcategories, i.e. sub-orbital, orbital, and beyond-orbital (ie, outer space, such as in a lunar base or a Martian outpost) and so do Friel (2020), Cohen and Spector (2019a), Chang (2015) and Webber (2013). On the other hand, Ma et al. (2020); Soleimani et al. (2019), and earlier Weaver (2011) include spacecraft launching observation as such. Damjanov and Crouch (2018), Frischauf et al. (2018) Weeks and Faiyetole (2014) add digital components (EVR, enhanced virtual reality) to the definition. From a legal point of view, that the definition of an astronaut (there is still no legal counterpart to ESA's industry definition of a space tourist; Failat, 2012) consist of two main aspects: the training required for the task and distance from Earth's surface they reach. Requirements vary a great deal, and if 6 months are generally considered necessary to visit the ISS (UNOOSA, 2022b), Virgin Galactic asks for only 1 week of preparatory training for suborbital flights (Virgin Galactic, 2022). Still, the non-professional personnel in space are considered ‘visiting crewmembers’ by the Inter-Governmental Agreement (‘IGA’) in an agreement reached between the space agency's participating to the ISS project (NASA, 2002). Although without binding legal value beyond the ISS, it constitutes nonetheless a ‘trendsetting, if not an industry standard’ (Von der Dunk, 2013). This matters, because the definition of the phenomenon affects its perception as feasible, ethically sustainable, and economically viable. Tourism is a significant contributor to many national economies, directly contributing on average 4.4% of national GDP and 21.5% of service exports in OECD countries (OECD, 2020). Even as a niche subsector (Friel, 2020), space tourism is rapidly becoming attractive for its high-skill job creation and revenue spillovers (Zhang & Wang, 2020). The economic multiplier of such developments will be higher than other industries (Cole, 2015), whereas the knowledge and skill base will facilitate space infrastructure construction (Komerath et al., 2007; Zhang & Wang, 2020). Friel (2020) and Spector (2020a) predict that space tourism will benefit terrestrial tourism destinations in the launching countries, facilitating all types of space flights and (Webber, 2013) becoming a pivotal sector of the economy due to economy of scale. Finally, space as a study subject enhances the attractiveness of STEM disciplines, as the ISS-related Principia Initiative sponsored by ESA and the UKSA during the tenure of UK astronaut Tim Peake (UK Principia, 2017) demonstrated. Space tourism can help develop alternative financing methods. Venture capital, angel capital, and public financing have already created a new sub-sector away from the traditional state-sponsored space research (Beery, 2012) Such private partnership is present even in China, where the government role is otherwise predominant (IDA, 2019). Launch infrastructure through private financing promotes economic growth (Ingle, 2011) with potential for empowerment for local communities, while supporting initiatives such as space mining. Space tourism will still face challenges, from modelling to consumer behaviour and operational challenges. Conceptual models on the potential size of the space tourism market (Chang, 2020; Cohen & Spector, 2019a; Cole, 2015; Komerath et al., 2007; Le Goff & Moreau, 2013) are of difficult assessment in terms of reliability (Zhang & Wang, 2020). Predictive modelling (Komerath et al., 2007) shows a prospective profit stream for hoteliers serving the space tourism market. However, Reddy et al. (2012) identified safety, training requirements, duration of travel, design of the spacecraft, accommodation facilities as the most critical components; insurance costs is another (Crouch et al., 2009). Laing and Crouch (2004, 2005, 2011) concur with such findings. More recent studies (Olya & Han, 2020; Platt et al., 2020; Wang et al., 2020) shows who risk perception also plays a role, overriding enthusiasm and adventurous motivations. The industry will require a highly trained workforce to serve tourists in an entirely alien environment of space (Goehlich et al., 2013; Strickland, 2012). Lyall (2010) and Pizam (2008) suggest that HRM and hospitality management as important areas of academic research in the next decade. The so-called international space law (the five Treaties of the 1970 s, starting from the 1967 OST), not meant to apply to companies but only to nation-states, is unsuitable for commercial enterprises, tourism included, as the analysis of interplays between national and supranational institutions (Hobe, 2010), their deliberations and collaborations (Aganaba-Jeanty, 2015; Forganni, 2017) and spheres of authority (Masson-Zwaan & Freeland, 2010) demonstrates. The existing regulations only cover the commercial aviation industry, or extreme tourism (the Antarctic, maritime and adventure tourism; Abaydeldinov & Kala, 2016; Spennemann, 2007). A targeted legal framework, now in its infancy, will soon become a requirement. Aviation planning and the legal system of commercial aviation establish the precedence for the space tourism industry's health & safety, and risk management practices Rosa (2013). Kaul (2019) recommends considering outer space and traditional aviation management together in future aviation management studies. Standardisation (Orme, 2017; Yehia & Schrogl, 2010) and specialised insurance (Ferreira-Snyman, 2017) must ensure the economic sustainability of space tourism operators, together with the legal status and licence for tour operators and tourists (Masson-Zwaan & Freeland, 2010). Governance of the space tourism supply chain (Dunk, 2013), investment guidelines (Blount, 2010), accident and emergency response policies (Beamer-Downie, 2013) for the sector will also need applicable procedures. Back in 2012, Buckley was already counting about ‘5,000 relevant publications’ attempting at evaluating the global tourism sector in terms that reflected ‘global research in sustainable development’ (Buckley, 2012, p. 1). Still, 10 years down the line, the industry is not close(r) yet to achieve sustainability. Meta-analysis and systematic literature review (SLR) have outlined the evolution of sustainable tourism (Pan et al., 2018), emergent themes and their policy implications (Zolfani et al., 2015), measurement indicators (Agyeiwaah et al., 2017; Nesticò & Maselli, 2020; Rasoolimanesh et al., 2020), challenges and barriers to sustainability and competitiveness (Pan et al., 2018; Streimikiene et al., 2021). Kapera (2018), Muangasame and McKercher (2014), Ocampo et al. (2018) and Tseng et al. (2018) have applied such concepts to the world tourism industry, from Poland to the Philippines and Vietnam. A common theme is the need for a set of sustainable performance indicators, which have grown in number and variety over the years, creating a ‘choice overload’ (Agyeiwaah et al., 2017:26) problem for the industry and making it difficult to select, measure, and assess their effectiveness (Schwartz, 2014). Larson & Poudyal, 2012 and Marzo-Navarro et al., 2015, summarise the lack of funding, commitment, institutional support, implementation, action plans, and vague objectives as the key reasons for such failure. Muangasame and McKercher (2014) and Tseng et al. (2018) provide empirical evidence that long lists obscure primary sustainability concerns and prevent greater awareness and implementation. There is the complex and often controversial debate of what constitutes a valuable—read, applicable—indicator for sustainability, starting from definitions lifted from United Nation's Agenda 21 (UN, 1993) to Bellagio Principles for standard measurement practice (Bell & Morse, 1999). And when it comes to space tourism, sustainability becomes a particularly controversial point. The high-cost, high-risk characteristics of the space sector (Gurtuna, 2013; Paladini, 2019; Vedda, 2009) are well known, including the astronomical (pun intended) carbon footprint of the space missions and their related environmental risks. While those are justified in the name of a superior interest of the space exploration and humankind progress (although stunts like Musk's orbiting Tesla have been criticised due to contamination risks; Davis, 2018), when it comes down to initiatives such as tourism, things become less defensible. A few studies question the ethics of private space initiatives, both in terms of equality of access and social justice (Aganaba-Jeanty, 2015). Williamson (2003) points out the ethical dilemma for commercial space exploration. In the same tradition, Peeters (2018) discusses the moral ground of using scarce planetary resources for non-scientific space travel. Other contributions explore the requirement for the colonisation of outer space (Brown, 2004), health and safety issues of tourists in space (Lyall, 2010; Marsh, 2006), and the necessity of an equal distribution of gains from space tourism (Toivonen, 2020). Weeks and Faiyetole (2014) proposed a wider access to space education to raise public awareness and participation on sensitive social welfare issues. The impact of space tourism on culture and heritage is part of social sustainability. Categorising space as heritage tourism, Weibel (2020) brings faith and religion into the context. For her and other like-minded space travellers, exploring the universe is a form of human emancipation. Collins and Autino (2010) predict that space tourism would preserve and foster peace on Earth. Similarly, Spector and Higham (2019) expect utopian transhumanism and so do Cohen and Spector (2019b), discussing prospective human activities in outer space. Nonetheless, the environmental sustainability of space tourism remains a highly contested area. Tourism scholars such as Cohen (2017), Peeters (2018), Wallacher et al. (2019) asked if space tourism can be sustainable at all. Sceptics such as Collins and Autino (2010), Peeters (2018) and Spennemann (2006) considered the negative impact of the tourists' presence in the space due to carbon emissions, which have the potential to create further environmental damage to the Earth. Debris in space is another area of growing concern (NASA Orbital Debris Program Office, 2021; Gopalaswamy & Kampani, 2014; Liou, 2011). According to Peeters (2018), space tourism would make the Earth's resources scarcer and more expensive, as the resulting extraction of resources devoted to space tourism will contribute to damage the Earth's fragile ecosystems. A recent study by Scott (2020) went further, assessing the prospective impact of spaceport development on local environments and cultures. Advocates of space tourism such as Iliopoulos and Esteban (2020) and Spector (2020b), believe that the solution lies in the sector's growth, which can address resource scarcity on Earth with space mining, NEOs (Near-Earth Asteroids) and the lunar soil being the natural targets. In our effort to build a new framework for sustainable space tourism, specialised consumption tourism provides the overall theoretical underpinning (Carvalho et al., 2019; Richards, 2011), highlighting components such as self-development and identity construction. Space tourism is such a stimulating and exciting experience that exposes participants to skill sets otherwise impossible to acquire (Platt et al., 2020), escaping the banality of mass tourism (Olya & Han, 2020). More specifically, more than exploring the motivators for people to venture into space tourism (Reddy et al., 2012; Wang et al., 2020), we intend to define in which way an experience that most people would label as not environment-friendly can be reframed and reconducted to a sustainable dimension. To this extent, we have systematically reviewed the current literature on space tourism to identify the factors affecting tourism sustainability (Nesticò & Maselli, 2020; Sardianou et al., 2016; Tseng et al., 2018), exploring three dimensions of sustainability, namely: (i) economic, (ii) environmental, and (iii) socio-cultural. These three dimensions were chosen for a reason: they were derived from the triple bottom line theory of Elkington (1994) and previously used as an interpretative framework to build a sustainable tourism model (White et al., 2006), from which our own conceptual model for sustainable space tourism starts from. Conceptual models are a popular method in social sciences, counting more than 60 definitions (Creswell, 1994; Thalheim, 2018; Delcambre et al., 2018; Mylopoulos, 2020). They guide “experimentation by expressing the modelling objectives, and model inputs and outputs” (Robinson et al., 2015) and have been previously used in tourism and hospitality (Bec et al., 2019; Lagiewski et al., 2019; Watson, 2008) although they have not been applied to model sustainable space tourism so far. As much as conceptual models, systematic reviews are widely used. The framework adopted in this article is the PRISMA method (Gøtzsche et al., 2009; Liberati et al., 2009; Moher et al., 2009), i.e., identifying all the sources, (Rodríguez-López et al, 2020; Zupic & Čater, 2015), screening them for quality and eligibility, and making decisions about inclusions. A number of platforms have been used for this review on space tourism, that is, EBSCO, SCOPUS, Web of Science, and the Chartered Association of Business Schools (CABS) journal list. The keyword search used in the query was TITLE-ABS-KEY string ‘space tourism’ by publication type—journals, language (English), subject area (business & management, economics, social science, environmental science, engineering, arts & humanities), and time (year 2001–2021), returning 126 documents. Bossel (1999) provided some criteria to develop indicators for sustainability in general, and the general validity of the framework is essential in the selection process itself (White et al., 2006). We also agree with Stoeckl et al. (2004) when they suggest that sustainability per se is not measurable, and that the role of indicators is limited to offering indications of direction and change. They still can, however, or should provide information about trends and help in setting goals (Castellani et Sala, 2010; Crabtree & Bayfield, 1998). Finally, and convincingly in our view, ‘although it seems paradoxical to develop indicators for sustainable tourism when no satisfactory definition of the concept exists, the process of developing the indicators does help in determining the important tenets of the concept,” (Miller, 2001, p. 361). Agyeiwaah et al. (2017) and Ocampo et al. (2018), both identified a total of 39 sustainability indicators. Nesticò and Maselli (2020) included 23. Our first selection of 101 single sustainability indicators (Appendix) includes 23 economic indicators, 40 environmental, and 38 socio-cultural indicators, selected them according to their applicability, measurement data availability, and appraisal by empirical literature. Table 1 shows them in a synthetic form. Table 2 presents instead our second selection from the first series, according to what emerged as the most relevant after cross-checking them in the sources. Our review shows that employment, tourism intensity, operational cost, profitability are the most common single economic indicators. Air, water, land quality, pollution and recycling level, green energy consumption, greenhouse gas (GHG) emission, preservation of biodiversity, statutory protection of forest and endangered species, build-up areas and their impact on the ecosystem are statistically the ones used more often as parameters for environmental sustainability. In terms of socio-cultural sustainability measurement (the social and cultural components have been merged in this article following White et al., 2006's conceptual model), parameters such as tourist-local ratio, visitors' and local satisfactions, locals' involvement in the tourism development and management process, tourism education to promote local heritage and preservation of such cultural aspects, safety, and access are prevalent in existing studies. Some of them (e.g., tourism education to promote local heritage and preservation of such cultural aspects) are, however, of limited practical utility due to the time scale required to observe them for a meaningful understanding (Sardianou et al., 2016). The literature (Kapera, 2018) indicates that there are conflicting priorities between tour operators and sustainability advocates as they seem to have focused more on environmental and socio-cultural sustainability compared to economic. Data availability and benchmarking is critical (Blancas et al., 2011; Booth et al., 2020) for our analytical framework for the space tourism industry, while other indicators separate central and peripheral issues for prioritisation (Keeble et al., 2003). The suitability of such indicators for sustainable space tourism is, of course, a critical and debatable point. First of all, single indicators by themselves are of limited usefulness due to their high specificity of the space medium, which differs a great deal from Earth-based tourism. They are in general better combined in wider categories, as macro-indicators, both for in terms of theoretical framework and explanatory function. It is, however, possible to establish a connection between the single indicators in Table 2 and the macro-indicators developed for the conceptual framework of space tourism. The linkage is shown in Table 3 in detail and discussed in detail in the next Section 4. In order to build the actual conceptual model for sustainable space tourism, we have combined Dubin's theory building (1970) as applied by Meredith (1993) to business studies and constructed a model which derives from ‘conceptually and logically connected ideas,’ (Watson, 2008). And if traditional theory building distinguishes between the theoretical modelling and the empirical research as two different, although connected, stages, here we are clearly focusing on the first one, leaving the proof of concept to future studies (more about this in Section 5). Here we have developed the conceptual model at a theoretical construct, specifying its framework and linking it with the relevant underlying theories, also explaining in which way these ‘building blocks’ have been assembled in practice. The starting point is the already referenced and widely cited conceptual model of sustainable tourism first presented by White et al., 2006, simplified and adapted in the diagram presented in Figure 1. The first conceptual model developed here – labelled CM1—builds on White et al. (2006) and adapts it to the specific characteristics of space tourism as detailed in Sections 2 and 3. If there is anything the extensive literature on sustainable tourism on one hand and space tourism on the other showed is that there are three major components --economic, socio-cultural, and environmental--although there is no agreement in the literature about which one is the most relevant. While the three components are essential for sustainable tourism as well, White et al. (2006) as it stands is not sufficient to model space tourism, and it is easy to understand why: a fourth component, technology, is missing, and, in its absence, it becomes impossible to enable a sustainable dimension for tourism, no matter the way sustainability has been defined. Figure 2 shows how to integrate technology in the conceptual model of sustainable space tourism. Some scholars (Davidian, 2020) have defined space tourism industry as a ‘technological niche protomarket’ (Geels, 2006), where a dominant design of innovation pattern has yet to emerge. Regardless the specific shape this innovation path will lead to, however, it is not possible to discuss the existence of space tourism without its technological angle, which is a fundamental enabler of anything related to space. Without technology, we could not have space tourism –by design. Before 1957 (the year of the launch of Sputnik 1), there was no way for humankind to reach the Karman line (i.e., one of the acknowledged frontiers of outer space). This is the reason why technology has to be included in the diagram as the fourth essential component to make space tourism not only sustainable but even possible. But we can actually go further than that, because, to discuss sustainability, we need to understand the way sustainability can be enabled by a certain kind of technology. Space technology has been long recognised as one of the keys to achieve the 17 UN Sustainable Development Goals on Earth by 2030 (UNOOSA, 2022a), in countless ways, from EO (Earth Observation) systems (UN, 2022) to satellites and engineering applications (EU GNSS, 2022). Even one of the most intractable aspects, the aviation's environmental impact, has recently seen efforts to ‘decarbonise’ the sector’ (Bows-Larkin, 2015; Higham et al., 2022; Sharmina et al., 2021) to enhance the drive toward sustainability. More importantly, Space 4.0, as it is now defined in the public debate (ESA/EC, 2016; ESA, 2016), is characterised by a native connection between Industry 4.0 and circular economy, whose principles, if not the name, have been long used in the space sector (the already mentioned concept of ‘spaceship Earth’; Fuller, 1963; Paladini et al., 2021) in a brand-new dimension of the sector itself, which enhances the very concept of sustainability at its core. Before looking at this specific aspect and the way technology changes radically the space tourism sustainability model, however, it is worth looking at the other, more traditional categories and their indicators. Once the fourth pillar, technology, has been inserted in the model, it is possible to reconfigure and link a substantial part of the single indicators listed for sustainable tourism in Table 2 to the new model for space tourism and relative indicators. Table 3 lists our own set of indicators as included in CM1, together with providing sources for specific space tourism indicators (absent from Table 2) as emerging from the literature considered in Section 2 and 3 and the theoretical justifications for their selection. A cursory look to Table 3 will show that not all the single indicators previously identified have been included, as explained in the table notes. This is due to the specificity of the medium ‘space’. Some otherwise crucial indicators, such as Debris (Control), play no role in the environmental component of Earth-based tourism, while they are an area of growing importance in space activities, tourism included. Others, such as Education as included in the Socio-Cultural components of Table 3, refer specifically to strong ties between space and STEM subjects in all scholastic curriculum at all levels, as detailed in Section 2, as so does Scientific Research. Both Tables 2 and 3 indicators, however, function in a similar fashion in the construct. If anything, our indicators are macro-indicators, which was expected to be, given the still initial stage of development of space tourism (e.g. an indicator for ‘number of tourists’ would not make a lot of sense when the total number is less than 30) and their applicability is often more theoretical and predictive at this stage than explanatory. It will, however, be in the future years, once space travel becomes more frequent. In other cases, the connection between Tables 2 and 3 indicators is immediately evident. Island states tourism indicators (Nesticò & Maselli, 2020) of Table 2 and the spaceship earth philosophy recently applied to under" @default.
W4315646741 created "2023-01-12" @default.
W4315646741 creator A5059366600 @default.
W4315646741 creator A5078341402 @default.
W4315646741 date "2023-01-11" @default.
W4315646741 modified "2023-10-14" @default.
W4315646741 title "The quest for sustainability in lower orbit: Conceptual models for space tourism" @default.
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