Weapons of mass destruction are banned or strictly prohibited, as they are capable of indiscriminately killing vast numbers of living beings and causing irreversible damage to the environment and to humanity’s very future. Included in this category are nuclear weapons, responsible for immediate devastation and permanent radioactive contamination; biological weapons, which exploit microorganisms or toxins to spread artificial epidemics; chemical weapons, which act through gases, nerve agents, or blistering agents; and radiological weapons, designed to disperse radioactive material and contaminate territories. These types of armaments, often grouped under the acronym NBC with the addition of the radiological dimension, are considered contrary to the fundamental principles of humanitarian law and of universal conscience.
And yet, while the international community erects barriers against indiscriminate destruction, another race takes shape: the race to Mars. Elon Musk, the richest man in the world, has proclaimed his ambition to colonize the red planet, casting himself as a prophet of an extraterrestrial future. His vision, celebrated by the media as heroic, has been met with skepticism by the scientific community. The human body is not designed to live beyond Earth’s atmosphere: microgravity erodes bones and muscles, cartilage thins, eyesight deteriorates, the immune system weakens, while cosmic radiation penetrates relentlessly into vital tissues. Colonizing Mars is therefore not an epic dream, but a gamble that exposes individuals to extreme risks, turning exploration into large-scale biological experimentation. The ethical question becomes inescapable: to what extent is it justifiable to sacrifice human lives in the name of technological pride that ignores the very boundaries of our biological condition?
And if Mars were indeed to become a theater of colonization, Musk’s companies would form its backbone. SpaceX would provide rockets and satellites, reshaping communications and imposing a Martian Internet controlled by a single private actor. Neuralink, with its brain implants, would promise cures and enhancements, yet also open unsettling scenarios of military and robotic control. OpenAI would become the invisible mind governing logistics and vital decisions. Tesla would ensure energy and transport, turning the Martian ecosystem into an experiment of total technological dependency. The Boring Company would dig underground tunnels, the only possible shelters against radiation and dust storms, but also the symbols of a compressed existence, far removed from the free breath of Earth.
Here the circle of the triptych closes. On one side, the banning of the most lethal weapons, a sign of a universal conscience that has learned through pain. On the other, the illusion of a new world that disregards biological limits and risks turning colonization into a dystopian laboratory dominated by private interests. In between, the technological scaffolding that promises progress but risks replacing ethical principles with the logic of profit and domination.
Left panel
Musk’s five companies as the architecture of a totalizing power: SpaceX, Neuralink, OpenAI, Tesla, The Boring Company. They rise as the supporting pillars of a private dystopia that risks replacing universal principles with profit. This side represents Hybris, the arrogance of man seeking to become a god.
Central panel
The vision of Mars and the fragile human body: the great illusion of fleeing Earth, the Promethean dream that ignores biological limits and turns human beings into cosmic test subjects. This is the heart of the triptych, the Vanitas of our time: the splendor of illusion opposed to the frailty of flesh.
Right panel
The prohibition of weapons of mass destruction: here the narrative focuses on the forces of death banned by universal conscience. It is the memory of suffering and the warning not to repeat Hiroshima, Auschwitz, or the chemical wars. This side represents Darkness, the awareness of the abyss.
Seal
It will not be another planet that saves us from the weight of our guilt, but the courage to look within ourselves. If humanity does not learn to disarm its own conscience, no new sky will offer refuge. Mars is not the promise of tomorrow, but the mirror of what we risk carrying with us: the same shadows, the same errors, the same abyss. The true conquest is not the colonization of a red desert, but the guardianship of an Earth still alive, fragile, and ours.