According to TheRegister.com, a Starlink satellite experienced an onboard “anomaly” late last week, causing it to vent propellant and release debris. The satellite, designated Starlink 35956, was launched on November 23, 2025, and was at an altitude of 418 kilometers when it lost communication and began tumbling. SpaceX stated the satellite will re-enter Earth’s atmosphere and burn up within weeks and poses no risk to the International Space Station. However, former astronaut Ed Lu, CTO of tracking firm LeoLabs, noted that “hundreds” of debris objects from the event are already being tracked, spreading out over 6,000 kilometers along the orbital track. The cause is described as an “internal energetic source,” not a collision, and SpaceX engineers are working on a software fix. This comes just days after a SpaceX executive accused a Chinese satellite of a close approach with a Starlink vehicle.
The debris is the real story
Here’s the thing: the satellite itself burning up is the best-case scenario. The real, lingering problem is all the junk it left behind. We’re talking about hundreds of new trackable objects, according to Ed Lu’s post. And that’s just the pieces big enough for LeoLabs and others to see. Who knows how many smaller, untrackable fragments are now zipping around at thousands of miles per hour? This one event instantly added a significant new debris field. It’s a stark, real-time demo of how the Kessler Syndrome could start—not with a dramatic collision, but with a random, energetic failure. One satellite pops, its debris threatens others, and the cascade begins. Scary stuff.
SpaceX’s rapid response, and a bigger picture
SpaceX, to its credit, is moving fast. In its statement on X, the company said it’s already deploying a software update to the fleet to protect against whatever this was. That’s the advantage of running a massive, homogeneous constellation where you can push fixes globally. But it also highlights a vulnerability. A single design flaw or software bug could, in theory, affect many satellites at once. We don’t know the root cause yet, but the fact that it required an immediate, fleet-wide patch is telling. It also adds a weird layer to the recent public spat about close calls with Chinese satellites. Basically, SpaceX is proving it doesn’t need help from another nation to generate risky orbital debris—it can do that all by itself.
A crowded neighborhood gets messier
This is why researchers are so anxious. Low Earth Orbit is getting packed. Every new constellation, every satellite, and every failure like this increases the statistical probability of a catastrophic collision. The proposed “CRASH Clock” concept—timing how long until disaster if we stop all avoidance maneuvers—feels less theoretical by the day. For companies relying on orbital infrastructure, from telecom to Earth observation, each debris event is a direct threat to their assets. It’s a shared environment, but the responsibility for keeping it clean is fragmented. Incidents like this put pressure on all operators, not just SpaceX, to prove their satellites are reliable and, critically, disposable without creating a long-term hazard. The satellite will be gone in weeks, but some of its debris could stay up for much, much longer.
