Remembering Laika, Russias cosmonaut dog.

 

Between 1957 and 1987, Soviet allies, such as Romania (above), Albania, Poland and North Korea, issued Laika postage stamps.

On this day in 1957, Laika, the Soviet dog, became the first living being to orbit Earth. Her journey was a monumental step in space exploration, but also a stark reminder of the ethical complexities of scientific advancement.

The decision to send a dog into orbit was largely down to Nikita Krushchev (First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union) who wanted to repeat the success of Sputnik 1 on a larger scale and show the world the true power of the USSR. He settled on achieving this by planning an orbital flight - with a dog. 

Sputnik 2 was also planned to coincide with the 40th anniversary of the October Revolution so to satisfy Krushchev’s grand demands, Soviet recruiters set about collecting stray female dogs from the streets of Russia. If they could successfully send dogs to space, what else could they achieve, and what power potential could this unlock? 

Once they had gathered a small group of stray dogs, they began to test for obedience, reactions to changes in air pressure, and loud noises - surely enough to terrify anyone. Footage of such tests can be viewed in the 2020 documentary Space Dogs, though watch at your own discretion. 

After narrowing it down to just two potential choices, doctors performed gruesome surgery on both dogs, embedding medical devices into their bodies to monitor heart impulses, breathing rates, physical movement, and blood pressure. 

Following extreme experiments and surgery,ten days before the launch, Soviet space-life scientist Vladimir Yazdovsky selected Laika to be the primary flight dog. Kudryavka (Curly) a half Husky, half Terrier was chosen because of her docile and submissive nature. She later became known as Laika (derived from the Russian verb ‘bark’) after barking repeatedly on the radio when introduced to the public.

The mission's primary goal was to study the biological effects of space travel and pave the way for future human expeditions into space. However, the mission was a one-way journey. Equipped with life support systems, Sputnik 2 was not designed for return. For Laika, it was a death sentence. 

Before the launch, Yazdovsky took Laika home to play with his children. In a book chronicling the story of Soviet space medicine, he wrote, "Laika was quiet and charming ... I wanted to do something nice for her: She had so little time left to live."

To adapt Laika to the small cabin of Sputnik 2, she was kept in a cage that began to get continuously smaller over a period of twenty days. Such cruel confinement caused her to stop urinating and defecating and for her overall condition to rapidly decline.  

Though Soviet scientists promoted the mission as daring and exciting, Three days before the scheduled liftoff, Laika entered her constricted travel space and  was chained into the spacecraft to limit any movement. She was also fitted with an invasive bag to collect waste.  

A technician who prepared the capsule for the mongrel dog said: “After placing Laika in the container and before closing the hatch, we kissed her nose and wished her bon voyage, knowing that she would not survive the flight.” A heartbreaking goodbye to a sweet-natured and trusting dog.  

It’s reported that before lift-off, a female physician broke protocol by feeding Laika one final meal. A heartbreaking goodbye to a sweet-natured and trusting dog. On November 3 at 5:30 a.m., the ship lifted off with G-forces reaching five times normal gravity levels. The noises and pressures of flight terrified Laika: Her heartbeat rocketed to triple the normal rate, and her breath rate quadrupled. The National Air and Space Museum holds declassified printouts showing Laika’s respiration during the flight. She reached orbit alive, circling the Earth in about 103 minutes. Unfortunately, loss of the heat shield made the temperature in the capsule rise unexpectedly, taking its toll on Laika. She died from overheating, alone, isolated  and  frightened, and  became a tragic symbol of humanity’s pursuit of progress at any cost.

During and after the flight, the Soviet Union kept up the fiction that Laika survived for several days. . Soviet broadcasts claimed that Laika was alive until November 12. The New York Times even reported that she might be saved; however, Soviet communiqués made it clear after nine days that Laika had died.  

While concerns about animal rights had not reached early 21st century levels,the controversial hidden fact that the mongrel dog was sent to space on a one-way ticket brought about a world outcry. A pack of dog lovers attached protest signs to their pets and marched outside the United Nations in New York. 

Britain showed to be the most outraged and before the announcer had even finished reading the news bulletin of the event, the switchboards were overwhelmed with angry callers. 

The RSPCA too was inundated with phone calls, and as a result, ended up giving callers the number for the Soviet Embassy. The Soviet Embassy in London had to swiftly change their celebration mode into damage control, with First Secretary Yuri Modin commenting: “The Russians love dogs. This has been done not for the sake of cruelty but for the benefit of humanity.” 

However, the British were not consoled.  Lady Munnings, wife of the Royal Academy’s former President, Sir Alfred Munnings, demanded: “Instead of dogs, why not use child murderers, who just get life sentences and have a jolly good time in prison?”  

And novelist Denise Robins wrote a touching elegy.  “Little dog lost to the rest of the world,” it began.  “Up in your satellite basket curled . . .”  A German daily newspaper even reported: ““For a few days, the world is again united.  “For a few days, black and white, democrats and communists, republicans and royalists in all countries, islands and continents have one feeling, one language, one direction . . . our feeling of compassion for this little living being twirling helplessly over our heads.”

Though Sputnik 2 completed over 2,500 orbits before reentering the atmosphere and disintegrating, Laika’s legacy endures. Her story serves as a stark reminder of the ethical implications of scientific advancement. It is a tale of human hubris and the exploitation of innocent creatures.

The story of Laika lives on today in websites, YouTube videos, poems and children’s books, at least one of which provides a happy ending for the doomed dog. Laika’s cultural impact has been spread across the years since her death. The 1985 Swedish film, My Life as a Dog, portrayed a young man’s fears that Laika had starved. 

Several folk and rock singers around the globe have dedicated songs to her. An English indie-pop group took her name, and a Finnish band called itself Laika and the Cosmonauts. Novelists Victor Pelevin of Russia, Haruki Murakami of Japan, and Jeannette Winterson of Great Britain have featured Laika in books, as has British graphic novelist Nick Abadzis.

In 2008, more than half a century after her fatal flight, a statue of Laika was unveiled in Moscow. The statue is an abstract piece, depicting a rocket and hand morphed into one, cradling Laika and pointing upwards towards the stars - if only she had been shown so much care and consideration in reality.

While some may argue that Laika's sacrifice was necessary for progress, in reality the value of the information attained by her journey is questionable at best. Soviet researcher Oleg Gazenko recounted his involvement with the Sputnik 2 mission, saying:  

“Work with animals is a source of suffering to all of us. We treat them like babies who cannot speak. The more time passes, the more I’m sorry about it. We shouldn’t have done it … We did not learn enough from this mission to justify the death of the dog.”  

Laika's story serves to  remind us of just one example of an animal’s life being sacrificed for human knowledge, the issue sadly remains prevalent in our society today. 

Laika’s death set a precedent for using live animals to understand how space impacts their biological processes. Numerous other countries sent a variety of animals into space as well, including mice, rabbits, guinea pigs, and tortoises. The real question at the end of it all is, has the world learned anything from these acts of cruelty,  when we look at the tens of thousands of dogs who are harmed—and who go unwillingly to their deaths—in pursuit of scientific “knowledge” that is at best flawed and at worst harmful to advancing human science.

Most dogs used in research today are used in pharmaceutical testing, even though upwards of 95% of drugs tested on animals fail when they move to human clinical trials. Whatever it is we “learn” from harming animals has little or no useful application for humans. Let's remember Laika, and the 115 million other animals who have died needlessly in experiments per year, and let this remind us to fight animal cruelty and treat non-human creatures with the respect they deserve.  .