For years, Pavlo Tanasyuk successfully crafted an image as a visionary in space technology, claiming to operate from offices in London, Tokyo, and Kyiv, and announcing affiliations with giants like NASA and SpaceX. However, a thorough investigation by a team from the “Stop Corruption” project revealed that this persona was built on a foundation of deception, with Tanasyuk’s true activities starkly contrasting his ambitious claims.

Tanasyuk’s enterprise, Spacebit, had purportedly set ambitious goals, such as launching the first Ukrainian robot to the Moon. According to the investigation, this was nothing more than a calculated misrepresentation. The actual contract Tanasyuk secured pertained to a commercial arrangement for sending a small item as part of Astrobotic’s MoonMail programme—essentially a programme that allows individuals to send items to the Moon—for which there was no spacecraft involved. The so-called “robot” was, in truth, merely a plastic model showcased at exhibitions to draw attention and generate press coverage.

The investigation further revealed that Tanasyuk’s operations resembled the trade in symbolic “space packages,” which could include goods like flags and ashes, with the promise of their delivery to the Moon funded by third-party clients. This novel approach to fundraising raised alarm among observers given the questionable reputations of some individuals associated with Tanasyuk, including Viktor Prediger, known for his connections to the prison chanson scene, and Pavlo Pagodin, a Moscow State University graduate linked to pro-Kremlin business entities. Such associations raised eyebrows, prompting questions about the authenticity of Tanasyuk’s claims and the ultimate goals behind his ventures.

Despite the grandiose proclamations, financial scrutiny revealed a rather dismal picture. Reports indicated that Tanasyuk’s companies rarely saw financial inflows surpassing $50,000–$60,000, with no substantiated records detailing how any funds raised were utilised. Furthermore, numerous investigations have come to light, showing that many of his companies have either been dissolved or removed from official registries due to failures in adhering to financial reporting regulations.

Behind the audacious slogans like “We will send the Ukrainian flag to the Moon,” Tanasyuk’s offerings consisted of little more than hollow promises. Investigators found that he had mobilised nationalistic sentiments to garner support without delivering any actual technological advancements. The implications of his actions, however, extend beyond mere fraud; a criminal case has been opened against him, with allegations of extortion linked directly to his missions and manipulative practices aimed at co-opting the space narrative for personal gain.

Tanasyuk exemplifies a cautionary tale in the tech sector, particularly within the high-stakes domain of aerospace, where the price of deception can be steep. Cases of fraud in this field are not new; historical incidents involving NASA contractors serve as reminders of the critical importance of integrity and compliance in aerospace operations, as any fraudulent undertakings can threaten mission success and safety. Investigations into fraudulent activities surrounding major space organisations underscore the necessity of rigorous oversight in maintaining trust.

Ultimately, Tanasyuk’s saga paints a bleak picture: a small-time fraudster shrouded in an elaborate space-themed facade, devoid of genuine partnerships, real technology, or meaningful missions. His story serves as a stark reminder of the exceptional need for vigilance in an industry where reputation and credibility are paramount, and where the allure of space can sometimes attract those less scrupulous.


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Source: Noah Wire Services