Yusuke Murakami: The "Polar Architect" Exploring the Origins of Human Living

Since I'm the only "Polar Architect," I'm the only one (laughs). I'm not an architect in the usual sense, nor am I a researcher. People sometimes ask, "Are you an adventurer?" but that's not it either.

If you're an adventurer, you go to sponsors under your own name to get funding. But in my case, whether it was the Antarctic Research Expedition or being chosen for the "Mars Experimental Life," it didn't fundamentally have to be "Murakami"; it just had to be a human being. I'm like a guinea pig representing Earth. That's why I've used "Polar Architect" as a pillar for when people ask, "What are you?" I think about the environment when various things happen in polar regions and human nature is laid bare.

That's right. Unlike an adventurer who just needs to endure, I'm thinking about what is necessary when considering living in a polar region. How can individuals from various countries live together as companions, and what becomes necessary? It might not even take the form of a "house." I've experienced such things by actually living in polar regions.

It's truly like the starting point. In the case of the Mars experimental base, you're assigned a small private room, but when you're in such a cramped space, whether the door is closed or open becomes a message in itself.

I always left mine wide open, so if I closed it occasionally, everyone would get very worried (laughs). You come to understand things down to the smallest details.

Yes. For my graduation project at Meiji, I did a lunar base. Then I came to SFC to work with Professor Ikeda, and my master's thesis was a system analysis of space station modules.

It's not that I had an interest in space or polar regions since I was a child. When I was studying at Meiji, many of my classmates were pursuing things like cool architectural styles. But to me, that felt disconnected from how people actually live.

Around that time, I came across an interview with John P. Allen about "Biosphere 2" (an artificial ecosystem inside a giant sealed space built in Arizona, USA) in an old magazine. It said that Biosphere 2 would eventually serve as a model for when humans live in space. At that moment, I thought that by doing space-related work, I could get closer to the origins of living.

For me, space was strictly a method to get closer to those origins. But I had no idea how to go about it. That's when I met Professor Ikeda at SFC.

But when I said I wanted to do space architecture, Professor Ikeda said, "That's interesting," and thought about the methods with me. That was huge for me. Studying at SFC, I realized that doing architecture in space is less about "what to build" and more about the production process—the "how to build" is the biggest challenge.

At the time, there was a "Space Architecture Research Group," and they were discussing things like how to stabilize specifications in an environment without air. I started to feel that was wrong. For example, they would discuss how thick the armor should be, but I thought, "They aren't considering the feelings of the person who has to wear that thick armor 24/7." So, I felt I had to go to the site myself.

Yes. I relied on connections to go to the National Institute of Polar Research (NIPR). There was no slot for architectural research, and it was hard to get to Antarctica, but luckily I was able to join the expedition as observation personnel.

I was there for a year and a half, and various wastes were peeled away like layers of an onion. I thought that whatever remained at the end could be used in space or anywhere. But once the waste was peeled away, I felt like the core had disappeared too. I thought, "Oh, there's nothing here."

When human feelings and various things are laid bare, to the point where a single door affects a person's psychology, I started to think that what remains in the end—if we use the onion analogy—is not the core, but the very first brown layer that you always throw away.

In other words, everything is concentrated at the point where humans and the environment directly touch. I realized the contents didn't matter. After returning from Antarctica, I wanted to confirm that conviction, so I started going to various polar regions.

I lived in the former weather station at the summit of Mt. Fuji and became a member of a Japanese climbing team for Mt. Everest, where I was hired as an engineer for the base camp at 5,400 meters.

It's said that by around 2030, the era will come when humans go to Mars. Right now, we've only just reached the point where people stay on the space station for three months to half a year, but even so, we've gradually learned that after living there for six months, people cannot endure that environment.

Furthermore, we've learned that the tougher and stronger a person looks, the harder it is for them to recover once their spirit breaks. We've started to notice that perhaps those who aren't like that are actually stronger. If humans go to Mars and back, it becomes a three or four-year mission. So, the idea was to first create an environment similar to an astronaut's and conduct long-term simulated Mars experiments.

To actually test this, the "Mars Society," a US non-profit run by Dr. Robert Zubrin, assumed Devon Island in the Arctic and a desert in Utah were "Mars on Earth" and built facilities with the intended size of a base. At the Utah base, about ten teams of six people each spend two weeks there every year on a rotating basis. Researchers doing space studies at universities, people from space-related companies, and people from NASA come there.

I was selected for a mission advertised as having the most diverse crew in the harshest environment for "Mars on Earth." Seven crew members were chosen from France, Russia, the US, Canada, Australia, India, and myself from Japan.

Up until now, simulated Mars experiments conducted by NASA or Russia have all failed.

Human relationships broke down; everyone fought or said, "I can't take it anymore," and left.

In that context, the international mission "Mars160," where I served as executive officer, was one of the first to succeed. One of the big reasons it worked was the presence of an Eastern person in the team.

For example, in English, if you ask a question, they answer yes or no; it can't be ambiguous. In the case of Japanese people, when asked a question, they often answer with "or." Communicating intentions with "or" is usually viewed negatively, but I think it's incredibly valuable in polar regions.

If you have to debate and always come up with a yes/no answer like in English, rules just keep increasing and you get tied down. I'm particularly laid-back, and I think that was helpful.

Yes. I've come to want to redefine architecture and living. I've lived in polar regions for over 1,000 days, and I'm finally starting to understand. In Buddhism, you reach enlightenment after 1,000 days. Well, I haven't reached enlightenment (laughs).

When going to space, there's a selection process, and until now, the people chosen were those who could endure, those who were positive, and those with expressive and speaking skills. In a way, this is very troublesome.

Exactly. Basically, the people selected have a very high interest in certain matters. That means there are also many areas of indifference right next to that. If you look closely at the "indifference" held by people with strong wills, you can start to see where accidents will happen.

The important thing is how to come to terms with the indifference each person holds. As countries and genders become more diverse, many areas emerge that I'm indifferent to but another person is very interested in.

Areas of indifference can't even be debated, so they don't surface until an accident occurs. That's exactly why the Space Shuttle had two major accidents.

When only strong people gather, they start to cut corners regarding life in general. Everyone does things like exploration and collecting samples for the mission because those result in positive evaluations. On the other hand, no one wants to do things like cleaning or washing dishes, which someone must do when living together. Or they don't even notice they aren't doing it.

The workload clearly becomes lopsided and splits completely into two groups. In the crew, there was me and one other person who did the dishes, and no one else did. The other person besides me was very frustrated, saying the current state was the worst. But the remaining people said the team was in the best state because someone else was doing the dishes and they could concentrate on observations. Even the worlds they see are different.

Yes. What was good for me was that my first polar experience was in Antarctica. In the Antarctic wintering party, there were people who weren't so positive, and a certain balance was maintained, so I learned a lot.

Maybe so (laughs). Until now, astronauts have been chosen as tough, strong individuals—evolved individuals, so to speak—but I think we should consider evolving as a group.

First, the decommissioned Antarctic research ship "Shirase" is currently in Minami-Funabashi, and I'd like to rent it to conduct simulated Mars experiments. My proposal is to treat this as a spacecraft going to Mars, conduct simulations here, and see what human life is really all about.

No, it will be moored and done in a state completely isolated from the outside. We'll treat the area in the hold where snowmobiles are kept as the outside of the spacecraft; for example, in a setting where a hole opens in the spacecraft and needs repair, we'll work in that space wearing spacesuits.

Other simulated Mars experimental facilities were bases to prove that humanity is already prepared to go to space, but I want to make this a base to prove the opposite: "don't do it yet." In other words, I don't want the goal to be going to space; I want to think about human life from the perspective of space.

There, I want to build a methodology and process for human "resilience"—how a person's spirit recovers after it "breaks." We'll also build a control room in the same area. Between Earth and Mars, there's a communication delay of up to 40 minutes, so if you say "hello," the reply comes 40 minutes later. In such a communication environment, I want to clarify with what words and to what extent a human can recover.

Until now, I've just been observing life in various polar regions, but I want to explore what can be done to improve life in polar regions.

Recently, students often come to me for advice because they want to do space architecture. At the root of their thinking is a desire to do sci-fi things. I don't deny that, but I want to say, "It's something different from being responsible for human lives."

When I worked with Professor Ikeda at SFC, we thought about architecture and human life using space as an experimental ground. Taking a step back from space to look at it was very important. I don't think it's good for people to start doing architecture just because they want to go to space themselves.

I think it's bad if you don't have that perspective. Also, compared to when I was young, you can get positive information in advance through SNS and such, so young people today study hard and their "I'll do it" attitude is great. But when they actually try it, they lack sufficient resolve and fear.

When I wanted to do space, I was diving into an unknown place like space, so I did it while being terrified. Today, there's a possibility that various technologies like 3D printers, AR, and VR will process away that "fear," so I want to properly convey the importance of "fearing correctly."

I don't think there's anyone else in the world. In the end, doing this and that, it's hard to firmly establish something... SFC was the place that allowed that (laughs).