Recently, I visited the “Flying Car Station” at the Osaka Kansai Expo and experienced the flying car exhibits. (Reference: https://www.expo2025.or.jp/future-index/smart-mobility/advanced-air-mobility / )
Figure1: A realistic flying car
While the pavilion is open to visitors without reservations, those who make a reservation in advance can board a parked flying car and experience a video of the car flying like a taxi from Yumeshima to Mount Koya or Awaji Island. Additionally, on certain mornings, a flight demonstration of the actual car is also held in a separate location within the venue (when I visited, in addition to the demonstration flight, there was also a Q&A session with the president of Skydrive explaining the car). Even before
the event, there were many negative comments about flying cars, such as “it doesn’t seem realistic,” “it’s a waste of tax money,” and “this isn’t a car,” but the exhibits were very easy to understand and provided a concrete image of what future society might be like. At the very least, it was an experience that made me feel like “this isn’t a dream, it could be a reality in the near future.”
Although the exhibition’s catchphrase was “There’s no traffic jam in the sky,” the reality is not so simple. Under the Aviation Act and the Drone Act, many airspaces, such as densely populated areas (DID districts), around airports, and near important facilities, are generally prohibited or severely restricted. Therefore, under the current system, “freely flyable airspace” is extremely limited, and in fact, “usable airspace” is also quite limited. Furthermore, air traffic control exists in the airspace, and traffic control by controllers is essential for the safe flight of commercial aircraft, helicopters, eVTOLs, and drones. In fact, “holds” frequently occur over Haneda Airport during peak hours, and air traffic is subject to physical and institutional limitations. In the future, the development of dedicated routes and unmanned aircraft traffic management systems (UTMs) will be essential for low-altitude operations within cities.
While the technology is becoming a reality, there are many institutional challenges to truly bring flying cars to fruition, such as airworthiness certification under the Aviation Act, operator liability, and standards for installing vertiports in urban areas.
In recent years, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism has been making successive revisions to government ordinances and technical standards, including the 2023 amendment to the Enforcement Regulations of the Aviation Act, the vertiport maintenance guidelines, and the publication of the Next Generation Air Mobility Operation Guidelines in 2025.
However, a fundamental system design has yet to be reached, and many areas remain legally uncertain and gray areas.
In this article, we will organize and examine flying cars by comparing them with the future visions we all imagine and science fiction works, and current laws.
| This article is part of a series in which I consider future systems from the perspective of a lawyer, inspired by the exhibitions at the Osaka Expo. Previous articles: Is the Android ‘Me’ the Same Person?- Future Legal Systems Contemplated at Osaka Kansai Expo 2025 ADD LINKS EMBEDDED Who would be the judge of a murder were to to occur in an orbital elevator? |
Flying cars have long been a familiar feature in science fiction works, but their appearance varies, with each work depicting a different vision of society and technology.
In the 1985 film “Back to the Future Part II,” there is a memorable scene in which a DeLorean flies through the sky in the future of 2015. In this scene, the flying car is depicted as a personal vehicle, presenting an ideal future in which anyone can travel freely through the sky.
In the 1982 film Blade Runner, a flying car is depicted as a police vehicle, and there is a memorable scene in which it flies between skyscrapers. In this scene, the sky is not a public space, but functions as a domain controlled by power.
In the 1997 film The Fifth Element, flying cars are commonplace among civilians, urban spaces have multi-dimensional transportation systems, there are even traffic lights in the sky, and “air traffic jams” are a part of everyday life.
In the 1995 film Ghost in the Shell, a helicopter-type hovercar appears as a means of transportation for Public Security Section 9. Flying cars are not just a means of transportation but are positioned as part of the city surveillance infrastructure.
Figure2: A sci-fi flying car
What is interesting is that these works all barely address issues such as “who controls the skies” or “what legal rules govern flight.” While the
“free movement in the skies” depicted in science fiction works is appealing, but in reality, strict airspace management and aviation legislation exist. Rather, the question of “who owns the skies” is at the forefront of institutional design in modern society.
The term “flying car” catches your eye, but the aircraft currently being developed are not like the ones you might imagine in science fiction, like the DeLorean from Back to the Future Part II. They have no wheels and do not drive on roads, but the familiar term “car” is used because the aim is to provide an “everyday transportation service that anyone can reserve on demand.”
What exactly constitutes a flying car has not been finalized, but in documents from the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, flying cars are often defined as “electric, automated vertical take-off and landing aircraft (eVTOL)” and have the following characteristics:
These characteristics make flying cars different from conventional helicopters and drones.
| Classification | Propulsion method | Control | Take-off and Landing | Main uses | Legal system |
| Flying car (eVTOL) | Electric | Future automation | Vertical takeoff and landing | Intra-city transportation and aerial taxis | The application of aviation law is also currently under design |
| Helicopter | Internal combustion engine | Manned pilot | Vertical takeoff and landing | Government agencies, news, and emergency services | Regulated by Aviation Law |
| Drone | Electric | Unmanned (remote) | Vertical takeoff and landing | Photography, logistics, surveying | Unmanned Aerial Vehicle |
Flying cars are vehicles that are small and lightweight, like drones, and capable of vertical takeoff and landing, but also have the ability to transport people like helicopters. In that sense, they can be described as a “hybrid entity” that cannot be captured by traditional classifications.
Technically, the term eVTOL (electric Vertical Take-Off and Landing aircraft) is sometimes used, but there are currently no definitions of “flying cars” or “eVTOL” in Japan’s Aviation Act.
Also, although the word “car” is used, it is not a car, so it is not subject to the Road Transport Vehicle Act, and the automobile license and vehicle inspection systems do not apply. Conversely, because it is different from airplanes and helicopters, it does not fit completely within the framework of the existing Aviation Act.
Flying cars may still give the impression of being a futuristic vehicle, but the technology is already at a practical stage, with companies both in Japan and overseas already developing actual vehicles, conducting test flights, and conducting pre-commercial operations.
In the United States and Europe, efforts are accelerating toward the practical application of urban air mobility (UAM) based on eVTOL (electric vertical take-off and landing) aircraft.
In Japan, efforts are underway to commercialize flying cars, spurred by the Osaka-Kansai Expo.
The biggest obstacle to flying cars is not technology, but systems. As they are aircraft that fly in the air, they require a wide range of legal infrastructure, including aviation laws, aircraft manufacturing standards, safety certification, operation management, pilot qualifications, and standards for the establishment of takeoff and landing sites.
The Aviation Act encompasses conventional aviation, including fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft, but there is no regulatory design in place to accommodate eVTOLs, which operate frequently at low altitudes in cities, or automated/remotely piloted aircraft, leaving a gap in current legislation.
The central law that regulates Japan’s skies is the Aviation Act. However, the Aviation Act was originally designed to accommodate fixed-wing aircraft that take off from runways and fly at high altitudes, and helicopters with limited uses, creating a mismatch with low-altitude, short-distance, and frequent flying vehicles like flying cars (eVTOL). Currently, flying cars are classified as “aircraft” under the Aviation Act and require permission from the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, but the system has yet to catch up on the following points:
Some may wonder, “Flying in the sky means it will be regulated in the same way as drones?”
Drones are also subject to strict controls, including registration, remote ID, permits and approvals. However, the focus of the system design is on “unmanned transport of goods,” while flying cars, which “transport people with pilots,” have fundamentally different requirements and scope for type/airworthiness, crew qualifications, and airspace capacity management.
In the development of flying cars, one unavoidable issue is the question of “Who is responsible if an accident occurs?” This is a core issue that is directly linked to the construction of the entire legal system, including where responsibility lies, the licensing system, and the insurance system.
Many of the eVTOL aircraft currently being developed are intended to be autonomously or remotely piloted in the future, but in the initial stages, they are primarily intended to be piloted by humans.
If flying cars become autonomous in the future, the possible responsible parties are as follows:
For example, if an AI system makes a mistake in route selection during autonomous driving and crashes, the manufacturer, software developer, air traffic control system, and/or aircraft owner may be held liable. This is a complex issue that is fundamentally different from the driver’s liability of a car.
Let’s imagine something more concrete. If a flying car flying over Shinjuku suddenly crashes due to a system failure, causing damage to buildings and pedestrians on the ground, compensation could run into the billions or even tens of billions of yen. Would the manufacturer, the operator, or multiple parties be held responsible? There is no clear answer under the current legal system.
If flying cars become commonplace, the arteries of cities will shift from the ground to the sky. Instead of train stations, vertiports will be installed on the rooftops of high-rise buildings and shopping malls, creating a new common sense that “rooftops = entrances.” Air route nodes will also be established in large suburban facilities and hospitals, rewriting the very value map of cities.
Figure3: The rooftop will become a station
The first use for this technology is expected to be short-distance travel within cities. At a Skydrive Q&A session that I attended, it was explained that “current flight time is about 10 minutes, with the goal of 15-20 minutes in the future. The range will be 30-40km, and the fare will be 10,000-20,000 yen one way from Yumeshima to Shin-Osaka, with the ultimate goal being about three times faster and about twice the price of a taxi.
” If it’s “three times faster than a taxi, but about twice the price,” it certainly sounds appealing. As a new means of transportation unconstrained by traffic jams, it could potentially expand the possibilities of urban life.
On the other hand, in the early stages of introduction, the costs of aircraft, batteries, insurance, and takeoff and landing sites will likely increase, leading to higher fares. The number of flights will also be limited, and reservations will be required. Furthermore, surge pricing (fare increases) will occur during peak times, raising concerns that this will ultimately become a means of transportation that only the wealthy can use to buy time.
Vertiports require multiple standards, including evacuation routes and noise control. As the value of areas in front of stations weakens, urban planning to utilize rooftops as “sky station areas” becomes more realistic. We can see a future in which the rooftops of high-rise apartment buildings become departure and arrival points, changing the very structure of cities.
However, who can enjoy these benefits depends on the system’s design. If fares remain high, a new mobility gap will emerge between those who can use the air and those who cannot. Conversely, if it is incorporated into a public transportation system, it may develop into an infrastructure that allows for more equitable sharing of time. We are at a crossroads in the future, between “division” and “sharing.”
Flying cars are becoming a technological reality, but the legal system has yet to catch up. The path we can choose from can be broadly divided into three categories.
The key challenges we face are clear.
Will flying cars become “highways for the wealthy only,” or “public spaces that anyone can use”? The shape of the future will change dramatically depending on how the system is designed.
And this system will not be “decided by someone,” but will be shaped by the accumulation of consensus building across society. Just as trains and automobiles have done, flying cars may one day completely change our lives.
How would you design this future?
“If a child is born in space, what nationality does the child take on? If a murder were to occur in an orbital elevator, who is responsible? If there is a labor dispute on a space colony, which labor laws would be applied?”
At first glance, it may seem like a science fiction story, but it may be a “future reality” that is right around the corner from us. Last time, inspired by Professor Hiroshi, I wrote a blog post titled “Is the Android ‘Me’ the Same Person?” (https://innovationlaw.jp/en/android-law/)
This time, I visited the Gundam Pavilion (https://www.expo2025.or.jp/domestic-pv/bandai-namco/). Gundam is a monumental science fiction anime franchise that depicts warfare using mobile suits and humanity’s expansion into space. In this fictional world, characters fight battles in their own high-tech original suits.
The Expo Pavilion depicts a peaceful future where mobile suits are used for construction, agriculture, and space debris collection. Visitors of the Pavilion have a virtual experience of riding an orbital elevator from Yumeshima in Area 7 (Gundam terminology for Earth) to a space colony.
While experiencing this, I was thinking about the following: “In the exhibit, it takes only a short time to reach space, but in reality, it would take days. If something were to happen during that time, which laws would apply?
And to begin with, is an orbital elevator a vehicle? Or a building?
In the world of Gundam, space colonies are independent of Earth, but if they were connected to the ground, whose territory would it be?”
In my previous blog, I questioned what the law should be like in a future where the boundaries of humanity become blurred. In this article, I would like to attempt a thought experiment from a legal perspective on a future where the boundaries of space become blurred, namely, in space, regarding which country can reach whom and how.
Figure 1 Orbital Elevator and space colony (AI-generated)
Imagine a birth taking place in a space elevator. Labor begins 10,000 kilometers above Earth. The baby is born 20,000 kilometers away.
Before deciding on the child’s nationality, the first thing we need to consider is, “Where is the elevator built?” In fact, space elevators have some surprising physical constraints. Due to the geostationary orbit, they can only be built directly on the equator. In other words, they are physically impossible to build in a place like Japan. They can only be built in countries directly on the equator, such as Ecuador, Kenya, Indonesia, Brazil, and the Congo (this point is explained in the pavilion).
This is where an interesting (and complicated) structure arises.
It seems likely that the countries with the technology and funds to build a space elevator are primarily the United States, European countries, China, and Japan. However, it is the countries along the equator that have the physical space to build one. This means that there is inevitably a separation between “countries with the technology” and “countries that provide the land.”
Going back to the birth example from the beginning, if the United States had built a space elevator in Ecuador:
Table 1: Structure of space elevators and jurisdiction boundaries
A space elevator is more than just a transportation facility. As the only “gateway” connecting Earth and space, it will be an extremely important strategic infrastructure in terms of politics, economy, and security.
Because logistics and communications between Earth and space will be concentrated at this single point, the country that controls the elevator will have an overwhelming advantage in the space economy. It will also be in a position to effectively control activities in outer space.
This situation could potentially give rise to a serious international issue known as “orbital superiority” in real-world space development.
So how should equatorial countries, geographically capable of building a canal, and countries with the technology cooperate? The Panama Canal, built by the United States in Panama in the early 20th century, is often cited as an example.
At the time, the United States leased the Canal Zone from Panama for 99 years, effectively granting it sovereignty and military control. A similar model for space elevators is envisioned: they would be built and operated under a long-term lease of land and space.
However, space elevators are not simply terrestrial facilities. They would extend from the Earth’s surface to 35,000 km into outer space. This would require more than a simple terrestrial lease; a contract would also need to include access to territorial airspace, undefined airspace, and outer space. This would likely result in the most lengthy legal agreement in history.
Currently, several alternatives are being considered in legal research on space elevators.
The Japan Space Elevator Association and others have proposed building it above the sea directly under the equator, avoiding territorial disputes. However, maritime law does not anticipate use in the airspace, creating new legal challenges. Organizations such as the Japanese Society of Aeronautics and Astronautics have also proposed building and operating it through an international consortium of multiple countries. This model would operate space infrastructure through a multinational institutional design, similar to the International Space Station, while avoiding the monopoly of any single nation.
In any case, the physical constraints of where a space elevator can be built dictate who and how it can be legally operated. The technological constraints themselves are driving the design of new international institutions. In the next section, we will delve into the legal issues that arise in the “space” itself, through which this elevator will travel—that is, in airspace, outer space, and the undefined areas in between.
A murder occurred on a space elevator. The suspect was arrested, but the crime occurred 10,000 kilometers above Earth. The question that arises here is, “Whose laws apply to this space?”
In fact, there is no clear answer to this question. This is because the space elevator is designed to travel through 35,000 kilometers of space, where it is unclear whose sovereignty extends and whose territory it is.
The uniqueness of a space elevator is similar to that of a transcontinental railroad. Just as the applicable laws change whenever a railroad crosses a border, the legal jurisdiction of a space elevator also changes as it ascends.
However, there is a crucial difference. With a railroad, the laws change at the “line” of a national border, but with a space elevator, the boundaries themselves are unclear, as to which country’s laws begin and end.
With an airplane, the laws of one country apply. In contrast, while a space elevator is a single structure, its legal world changes gradually as it moves vertically, from the ground to airspace to outer space – making it an extremely unique entity never before seen.
under international law.
Sovereignty extends to the altitude at which passenger aircraft fly – roughly 10 to 12 km. As for the stratosphere and mesosphere (12 to 100 km) above that, the situation is vague, with some saying it is “probably territorial airspace.”
The 1967 Outer Space Treaty stipulates that “outer space has no sovereignty.” However, there are problems here as well.
To begin with, it has not been decided where outer space begins.
This ambiguity is a fatal problem for structures that continuously connect the ground and space, such as a space elevator.
The space elevator is a single continuous structure, but the space it travels through is:
Table 2: Scope of Laws Applicable in Outer Space (Conceptual Diagram)
| Altitude range | Legal nature | Current laws that may apply |
| Ground- 12km | Certain airspace | Criminal and civil laws of the country where the facility is located |
| 12km-50km | Actual airspace | Laws of the country where the facility is located (approximate) |
| 50km-100km | Undefined airspace | Unknown |
| More than100km | Outer space | Outer space treaty + laws of the country where the facility is located |
In the murder example mentioned above, the 10,000 km point is clearly outer space, so the laws of the country that “registered” the elevator would likely apply. But what if it were 100 km away? This would be a crime in a “legal vacuum.”
In reality, it would be impossible to manage a space elevator by dividing it into different altitudes, such as “from here to here it is subject to Country A’s law, and from here to Country B’s law.”
One of the biggest legal challenges in building a space elevator is determining which legal framework to use to treat the entire structure under. Whether it be managed by a single country, operated by a multinational corporation, or governed by an international organization — the choice will determine the nature of this “legal gateway” to space.
In the next section, we will look at the more complex legal issues that will arise in the space colonies that lie beyond this space elevator.
Mobile suit pilots working on the construction of the outer walls of a space colony have gone on strike, demanding special allowances for dangerous work in space.
Their demands are legitimate. Construction work in space is many times more dangerous than on Earth. However, the question that arises is, “Under whose labor laws should this labor dispute be resolved?”
In fact, to answer this question, it is necessary to know “the nationality of the space colony.” However, the current system for determining the nationality of space facilities is too complex to accommodate the space colonies of the future.
Current space law has a rule known as the “country of registration principle.” The country that launched or commissioned the launch of an artificial object (satellite, spacecraft, or space station) into space becomes its “country of registration,” and that country has jurisdiction and responsibility.
This principle works relatively well for the International Space Station (ISS). Japanese law applies to the Japanese laboratory module “Kibo,” while Russian law applies to the Russian module.
However, future space colonies will not be research facilities where various countries bring their own modules. They will be one large “space city” with integrated social infrastructure, including housing, commercial facilities, hospitals, schools, and factories. The traditional simple rule of “launching country = country of registration” is no longer applicable.
The construction and operation of a space colony is expected to require an extremely complex international system.
For example, funding will come from a joint venture between the European Space Agency, NASA, JAXA, and a private investment fund, construction will be a joint venture between SpaceX (USA), Mitsubishi Heavy Industries (Japan), and Airbus (Europe), components will be launched using rockets from different countries, and final assembly will be carried out unmanned and automatically in orbit.
In this case, how will the strike by the mobile suit pilots at the beginning be handled?
Not knowing which answer is correct is a real problem.
The problem becomes even more complicated when a space colony is physically connected to Earth by a space elevator.
Conventional space facilities “float” in space. However, a colony connected to Earth can also be considered an “extension of ground facilities.” If a labor dispute occurs in a colony connected to an orbital elevator extending from Ecuador, multiple options arise: the laws of the country of registration, the laws of the country of connection, or special international agreements.
What if tens of thousands of people were to live in a space colony, have children, receive an education, work, marry, and grow old there?
What would their “nationality” be?
Gundam depicts a division between “spacenoids,” born in space, and “earthnoids,” born on Earth. While it is fiction, how to handle citizenship, voting rights, and social security for people who were actually born and raised in a colony will be a realistic challenge in designing a system.
Who will protect the rights of space workers? This question will eventually develop into the more fundamental question of “who will protect the rights of space citizens?”
Column: Who will defend the colony if it is attacked? |
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When considering the legal status of space colonies, military and security issues are unavoidable. If a space colony were to be attacked by cyberattack or physical attack, which country would bear responsibility for its defense? Under the current system: Institutional Design Needed |
Column: Do AI pilots have human rights? (Thought column) |
| At the Gundam Pavilion at the Expo, an AI replicating the thoughts and personality of a famous pilot will be featured. A mobile suit appears in a desperate scene, and the AI pilot rescues the audience. Here, I’d like to ask a question: does this AI have personality or human rights? AI learns from past words and actions and imitates “typical” behavior. However, this is not the person themselves; it is merely software replicating their “personality.” Under the current legal system, AI is not recognized as having personality or human rights. It is not held responsible and is treated merely as property. However, in the future, when AI with self-awareness and the ability to make decisions appears, and it is able to, for example, save lives in outer space and choose to “sacrifice itself,” can we still call it “merely a tool”? AI pilots can operate in harsh environments such as radiation and vacuums, and have the potential to become even more important partners than humans. What if such an AI were to save someone, choose someone, and sacrifice itself? Would it be just a machine, or “someone”? It may be that law and ethics in the future will no longer be able to turn a blind eye to this question. |
The future space infrastructure we saw at the Gundam Pavilion at the Expo is by no means science fiction. Orbital elevators are expected to become a reality in the 2050s, and space colonies may become a reality within this century.
However, neither orbital elevators nor space colonies were within the imagination of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty’s framers. Geopolitical inequalities due to physical constraints, ambiguity in the scope of sovereignty, and complex relationships of responsibility—all of these are the result of technological progress outpacing existing legal systems.
For Japan to take the lead in creating legal rules for space development, it is time to make legal preparations before the future we saw at the Expo becomes a reality.
References