Question: When we say “the militarization of space,” what exactly does that mean? What are countries actually doing up there?

Dr. Joanna Rozpedowski: It is important to distinguish between the “militarization” and “weaponization” of space. Space has been militarized almost from the beginning of the Space Age when two rival superpowers, the United States and the Soviet Union, quickly recognized that satellites could provide enormous strategic advantages, from communications and navigation to intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance and missile warning. Much of the infrastructure we now consider indispensable to civilian life depends on space-based systems, from GPS and satellite communications to weather forecasting, financial transactions and disaster response. Much of it also has military applications. Dual-use is therefore a strategic asset and an enormous legal challenge.

The scale and sophistication of these capabilities have changed at an exponential rate. States are developing sophisticated and discrete systems designed not only to operate in space, but also to deny an adversary the use of space. These include anti-satellite weapons, electronic jamming and spoofing, cyber capabilities, directed-energy systems and other counter-space technologies. The objective does not necessarily have to be destructive in nature. Denying, disrupting or degrading a satellite’s ability to function can be strategically valuable in its own right. 

This is why the US military-industrial complex describes space today as increasingly “congested, contested, and consequential,” with implications that extend far beyond orbit itself. Space is no longer a remote theater disconnected from events in the terrestrial realm. Military operations and civilian communications, navigation, intelligence, financial transactions, transportation, agriculture and global commerce increasingly intermingle and depend upon space-based infrastructure. At the same time, access to space is becoming increasingly globalized. It is no longer the exclusive preserve of the traditional space powers. It is becoming less concentrated and much more democratized as declining costs and technological advances are enabling an increasingly diverse group of states, including emerging space powers in Africa and the Middle East, to develop their own capabilities.

In addition to major space-faring nations, nearly 20 African countries now have satellites in orbit, and the African Union established the African Space Agency in 2025, reflecting a broader shift in which space capabilities are no longer confined to the traditional space powers. African states are using satellites to address very terrestrial and existential challenges such as monitoring weather and natural disasters, improving communication between scattered villages, collecting data on crops, cattle and wars. This expansion makes space simultaneously more accessible and more strategically consequential. 

Question: Right from the beginning, the US and the USSR raced to dominate space and to reach the moon. Since 1991, space has been demilitarized and commercialized. Are we now back to an era of “space arms race”?

Joanna: I would be careful about describing the post-Cold War period as one in which space was simply demilitarized. Space was never demilitarized in the sense of becoming exclusively civilian. What we saw instead was an enormous expansion of commercialization alongside continuing military dependence on space.

Today, we are certainly witnessing a new form of space arms competition, but it is not simply a replay of the Cold War. The strategic environment is much more diverse and complex. It involves the United States, China, Russia, NATO and an expanding group of non-traditional yet space-capable states, as well as powerful commercial actors.

The competition is also no longer primarily about who can put a human being on the Moon or who can launch the most impressive rocket. It is increasingly about who can protect, disrupt, deny or control access to the space-based infrastructure upon which military and economic power depends. There is also growing competition over access to scarce orbital positions and frequencies, as well as the prospect of exploiting valuable resources on the Moon and asteroids. Rare earth elements and other minerals found beyond Earth could eventually have enormous economic and strategic value, raising questions about who will have access to them and under what legal conditions. At the same time, low-Earth orbit is becoming increasingly crowded, making orbital space itself a strategic resource. The ability to secure advantageous orbital positions and operate safely in an increasingly congested environment may become as consequential as the ability to launch satellites in the first place.

That introduces an important new dimension to the space race: The competition is not only over what we put into space, but over access to the physical and economic resources of space itself.

This is a fundamentally different kind of arms race. It is occurring across physical, cyber, electronic, economic and commercial domains simultaneously. And because space systems are deeply integrated into terrestrial infrastructure, the consequences of that competition are felt here on Earth. The challenge is therefore not simply to prevent weapons from proliferating in orbit, but to establish rules governing access, resource extraction, orbital use, commercial activity, insurance and securitization of assets, and military operations before healthy competition turns into pernicious conflict.

Question: How do you see the strategic competition between the US, China and Russia unfolding?

Joanna: The United States, China and Russia remain the principal strategic space powers, but I don’t think the future can be understood as a simple three-way competition. The space environment is becoming increasingly multipolar and alliance-driven.

The United States retains enormous advantages in launch capabilities, satellite infrastructure, military space systems and commercial innovation. China has made extraordinary progress and has demonstrated that it intends to become a major space power, both economically and strategically. Russia retains significant expertise and capabilities inherited from the Soviet space program, although its broader position has been affected by economic and geopolitical constraints.

What is particularly interesting, however, is the emergence of competing networks of space partnerships. The United States has sought to build a coalition of space-faring and space-interested nations around the Artemis Accords, while China and Russia have pursued alternative frameworks for lunar cooperation. These competing approaches have the potential to create not simply technological competition, but competing visions of how the future governance and exploitation of space should be organized.

At the same time, space capabilities are spreading well beyond the traditional space powers. Middle Eastern states are investing heavily in satellite, launch and exploration capabilities, while African nations are increasingly developing their own space programs and forming regional institutions for space cooperation. These states are not necessarily seeking to become military space powers; many are motivated by practical needs such as communications, agriculture, climate monitoring, disaster management and economic development. But the accumulation of these capabilities nevertheless changes the strategic landscape and gives more states a stake in the future rules governing space.

What makes the competition particularly consequential is that these capabilities are increasingly connected to terrestrial military power. Whoever possesses resilient communications, intelligence, navigation, surveillance and space situational awareness has an enormous strategic advantage.

We are therefore moving beyond a traditional arms race between three states toward a complex ecosystem of states, alliances, competing diplomatic frameworks, commercial companies and dual-use technologies. NATO is adapting to space as an operational domain; the United States is building partnerships through the Artemis Accords; China and Russia are developing alternative partnerships; and emerging space-capable states in regions such as the Middle East and Africa are becoming increasingly important participants.

That complexity can create stability through deterrence and cooperation, but it can also create new fault lines, competing spheres of influence and opportunities for miscalculation. The question is whether these emerging partnerships will encourage greater cooperation and interoperability or whether they will produce competing blocs in space that mirror, and potentially reinforce, the geopolitical divisions we already see on Earth.

That complexity can create stability through deterrence, but it can also create new vulnerabilities and opportunities for miscalculation.

Question: The 1967 Outer Space Treaty prohibits the placement of weapons of mass destruction in orbit and declares space the “province of all humankind.” How effective is that framework today?

The Outer Space Treaty remains the foundation of international space law, and I would not characterize it, on principle, as obsolete. Its principles — peaceful exploration and use, non-appropriation, state responsibility, international cooperation and the prohibition on weapons of mass destruction in space — remain critically important.

The treaty also establishes some clear red lines. It prohibits placing nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction in orbit or otherwise stationing them in outer space. It prohibits establishing military bases, installations or fortifications on the Moon and other celestial bodies, as well as testing weapons and conducting military maneuvers there. It also prohibits national appropriation of the Moon and other celestial bodies.

The problem, however, is that the technological environment has changed dramatically since the treaty came into force in 1967. The treaty was negotiated at a time when only two countries — the United States and Soviet Union at the time —  had demonstrated the ability to reach space. Today we have a much larger number of state actors, a rapidly expanding commercial sector, sophisticated counter-space capabilities, cyber operations and enormous dependence on privately operated infrastructure provided by the likes of SpaceX, among many others. 

It is important to note that the treaty does not prohibit military activity in orbit generally, nor does it expressly prohibit conventional weapons or anti-satellite capabilities. There is also much less clarity surrounding deliberate interference with satellites, cyberattacks against space systems, electronic jamming and spoofing, and the role of private companies whose infrastructure may become integral to military operations.

That legal ambiguity matters because the treaty’s principles have to be applied to technologies and forms of conflict that its drafters could not have anticipated. The answer is not to discard the existing framework, but to build upon it with clearer norms and legal mechanisms that address contemporary space activities and the growing involvement of both states and private actors and these modern international legal frameworks are now much overdue. 

Question: How could an attack in space, like an anti-satellite strike, spiral into conflict?

The most important point to remember is that a conflict in space does not necessarily remain in space.

An attack on a satellite can disrupt communications, navigation, intelligence, missile warning, military command and control, and other capabilities that governments depend upon. It can also affect civilian systems and economic activity. The Global Positioning System (GPS), for example, is not simply about helping someone find their way from point A to point B on their smartphones. Space-based timing and positioning support financial transactions, transportation, logistics, agriculture, communications and other critical systems essential to personal, financial and national security.

That creates an enormous escalation problem. Imagine that a satellite is jammed or disabled. Was it an accident? A cyberattack? Electronic warfare? Espionage? An act of aggression? Space terrorism? Who was responsible? And what constitutes a proportionate response?

Attribution can be particularly difficult in space because an attack does not necessarily involve a visible explosion. A state could potentially interfere with another country’s capabilities while maintaining plausible deniability.

This is where the interaction between strategic ambiguity and legal ambiguity becomes very pronounced. A state may not know precisely what happened, who was responsible, or how the other side intends to respond. That uncertainty can produce escalation even when neither side initially intended to begin a larger conflict.

This is precisely where international space law and space diplomacy have a significant role to play. We need clearer understandings of what constitutes harmful interference, an attack, aggression or an act of war, as well as mechanisms through which states can communicate, establish attribution, clarify intentions and resolve incidents before they escalate. Space diplomacy is particularly important because, in an environment where technologies and capabilities are evolving faster than the law, dialogue and confidence-building measures can help prevent suspicion in an environment of heightened ambiguity from becoming conflict.

The danger is therefore not simply an “attack in space.” It is the possibility of cascading consequences between space, cyberspace, and terrestrial military and civilian systems. 

Preventing that escalation will require not only technological resilience and deterrence, but also a stronger international legal and diplomatic framework for managing overlapping spheres of conflict and competition in space.

Question: How does international law define sovereignty in space? Can nations own parts of the Moon, asteroids or orbital pathways through indirect means like exclusive commercial rights?

Joanna: International space law establishes a fundamental principle that makes space very different from terrestrial territory: Outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation. Article II of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty makes clear that a state cannot claim sovereignty over the Moon, an asteroid or another celestial body through occupation, use or any other means.

But the Outer Space Treaty is only the foundation of a broader body of international space law. The Rescue Agreement (1968), Liability Convention (1972) and Registration Convention (1976) subsequently developed rules concerning the rescue of astronauts, responsibility for damage caused by space objects, and the registration and jurisdiction of space objects. The Moon Agreement of 1979 went further in addressing the Moon and its natural resources, declaring the Moon and its resources “the common heritage of mankind” and contemplating an international regime for their exploitation. The Moon Agreement, however, has attracted relatively limited participation from the major space powers, which has limited its practical influence on the current development of lunar resource policy.

The central legal question today is therefore not simply whether a state can plant a flag on the Moon and claim territory — it clearly cannot — but how far commercial exploitation can go without becoming de facto appropriation. There is an important distinction between appropriating territory and extracting and using resources, but international law has not resolved every aspect of that distinction.

This question has become particularly important with the development of the Artemis Accords, which affirm the principle of non-appropriation while recognizing that the extraction and utilization of space resources can be conducted consistently with the Outer Space Treaty. The Accords also contemplate temporary “safety zones” around certain activities to prevent harmful interference. These provisions are intended to facilitate commercial and scientific activity, but they inevitably raise questions about how temporary operational rights can be distinguished from permanent territorial control.

The emergence of commercial space activity makes this issue increasingly important. If a private company receives an exclusive right to operate in a particular location or extract a particular resource, we have to ask whether that arrangement effectively produces a form of appropriation without formally declaring sovereignty. A legal system that prohibits territorial appropriation but permits increasingly exclusive commercial control will eventually have to draw a clearer line between the two.

Orbital pathways raise a somewhat different but related problem. There is no general concept of owning an orbital “lane” in the way a state owns territory or territorial waters. Yet orbital positions and radio-frequency spectrum are scarce resources, and their allocation is governed in significant part through the International Telecommunication Union, rather than through a conventional system of territorial sovereignty. As more satellites and constellations occupy low-Earth orbit, questions of access, priority, congestion, interference, debris and long-term sustainability become increasingly important.

Ultimately, I think the challenge is to prevent commercialization from becoming a backdoor mechanism for territorial appropriation, while still allowing legitimate commercial activity, scientific exploration and resource utilization to develop. International law has already established the foundational principle that no state can own the Moon or other celestial bodies. The next challenge is determining what forms of use, access, extraction and commercial exclusivity are compatible with that principle as space becomes an increasingly important economic and strategic domain.

Question: How significant are dual-use satellites and private space companies? Are SpaceX and Blue Origin blurring the lines between civilian and military assets?

Joanna: They are enormously significant because they are fundamentally changing the traditional distinction between civilian and military space infrastructure.

The war in Ukraine provided a particularly clear illustration. Commercial satellite communications and commercial satellite imagery became important components of a conflict between states. A system can serve millions of civilian customers while simultaneously providing capabilities that are strategically important to a military. In my view, this raises some very difficult questions that international law has not yet adequately resolved.

For example, if a commercial satellite system provides communications that are vital to military operations, does it remain a purely civilian object? If an adversary attacks that system because of its military utility, does the fact that it is privately owned make a difference? And if a private company is providing critical infrastructure to one side in an armed conflict, can it itself be considered to have become a participant in that conflict? These are not merely theoretical questions. They go directly to the principles of distinction and proportionality under international humanitarian law.

There is also the question of what constitutes a proportionate response if a state attacks commercial space infrastructure. If a privately owned satellite is used for both civilian communications and military purposes, an attack against it could potentially affect millions of civilian users who have nothing to do with the conflict. The same problem applies to commercial satellite imagery: Private companies can provide information that has significant military value while simultaneously serving humanitarian, commercial, scientific and civilian purposes.

This is why the civilian-military nexus in space is so difficult. Commercial does not automatically mean civilian, and civilian does not necessarily mean strategically irrelevant. A privately owned satellite can become a critical component of national security without ever becoming a formally designated military asset.

Companies such as SpaceX and Blue Origin also demonstrate how the center of gravity of space activity is shifting. Governments remain indispensable actors, but private companies now possess launch capabilities, satellite infrastructure, data, technological expertise and communications networks that were once almost exclusively the preserve of states. The rise of the “New Space” economy means that non-state actors can now possess capabilities with direct geopolitical and military consequences.

This is not necessarily a negative development. Commercialization has dramatically expanded access to space, accelerated innovation, reduced costs and created capabilities that can benefit both civilian populations and governments. But it also means that our legal frameworks, which were largely constructed around states, increasingly have to account for multinational corporations and other non-state actors operating in strategically consequential environments.

This raises a broader question that I think we will increasingly have to confront: If private companies own and operate infrastructure that is essential to a state’s military capabilities, who bears responsibility when that infrastructure becomes a target? And what obligations does a private company have when its technology or data is being used in an active conflict?

These questions demonstrate why we need to apply and clarify existing principles of international humanitarian law, including distinction, proportionality, military necessity, and limitation of the means and methods of warfare, in the space domain. As I have argued elsewhere, the objective should not simply be to determine whether commercial satellites are “civilian” or “military,” because increasingly they are both. The challenge is to develop legal guardrails for a world in which state and private capabilities are deeply intertwined and where the consequences of attacks on space infrastructure can extend to civilians far beyond the battlefield.

Questions: Are there movements, treaties or norms emerging that could preserve space as a cooperative and peaceful domain?

Joanna: There are reasons for optimism, although I would not underestimate the challenge. The international community has already developed an important body of principles governing the peaceful use of outer space, and there are ongoing efforts to establish norms concerning responsible behavior, space debris, space traffic management, transparency, confidence-building and the prevention of dangerous interference.

The Artemis Accords are one example of states attempting to establish principles for responsible exploration and use of the Moon and other celestial bodies. At the same time, the United Nations remains an essential forum for developing broader international norms and for bringing together states with very different political and strategic interests. The fact that the United States, China, Russia and other space-capable states do not always agree on the future of space makes multilateral diplomacy more important, not less.

In addition to bilateral and multilateral agreements, several intergovernmental mechanisms have emerged to enhance technology development, pool expertise, and harmonize regulations among space actors and authorities. The multinational space alliances include the African Space Agency, the Arab Space Coordination Group, the Asia-Pacific Space Cooperation Organization, the European Space Agency, and the Latin American and Caribbean Space Agency. Each bloc seeks to draw its sphere of influence and stake a claim to space leadership by developing advanced research capabilities and facilitating exploration, coordination and cooperation in outer space.

But I think we need to be careful about one thing: We should not allow geopolitical competition to erode the existing architecture of international law simply because that law has not kept pace with technological developments or is an inconvenient “fiction” — as some would have it — that deters unethical or extralegal behavior. The answer to legal ambiguity should not be to abandon established principles, but to clarify and expand them. The prohibition on national appropriation, the peaceful-use principles of the Outer Space Treaty, state responsibility, liability and the basic principles of international humanitarian law remain important safeguards. Undermining those principles would create a vacuum in which states and private actors could increasingly establish the rules through technological capability and faits accomplis.

This is where space diplomacy and international law have to develop together. We need diplomatic mechanisms through which states can communicate during incidents, clarify intentions, share information, establish expectations for responsible behavior and manage disputes before they escalate. A new grand strategy for space therefore requires new diplomatic instruments, but those instruments should reinforce — not replace — the existing international legal framework.

I also believe we need to begin thinking much more seriously about international criminal law in space. At present, we have mechanisms governing state responsibility and liability, but the question of state and individual criminal responsibility for serious violations in the space domain is much less developed. What happens, for example, if an individual deliberately orders an attack that destroys a satellite knowing that the consequences will cause widespread civilian harm? What happens if a cyber operation against a space system produces consequences comparable to those of a conventional attack? At what point does conduct move from an internationally wrongful act to an international crime, and who has jurisdiction to prosecute it?

These are not merely hypothetical questions. As space becomes increasingly integrated into military and civilian infrastructure, we need to consider whether existing concepts of international criminal law, the law of armed conflict, command responsibility, proportionality, distinction and individual accountability can adequately address conduct in outer space.

One possibility would be to develop mechanisms analogous to those that exist on Earth for serious violations of international law — including, potentially, new international agreements defining criminal conduct in space, specialized mechanisms for adjudicating violations, or an expanded role for existing international courts and tribunals. We should also consider how state disputes involving space activities can be brought before mechanisms such as the International Court of Justice and whether existing institutions could provide advisory opinions on emerging questions of space law.

At the same time, preserving space as a peaceful domain does not mean pretending that militarization has not occurred. We have to start from the reality that space is now a critical component of national security and the global economy. The objective is not to demilitarize space by decree, but to prevent militarization from becoming unrestrained weaponization and conflict.

That requires responsible behavior, resilience, deterrence, diplomacy and clear rules of the road. It requires confidence-building measures between competing space powers, greater transparency about capabilities and intentions, and mechanisms for managing incidents before they become crises.

Ultimately, the greatest danger is not necessarily that space becomes another battlefield. It is that technology advances faster than our diplomacy and law, leaving states and private actors to determine the rules through action and reaction. If we allow that to happen, we risk normalizing behavior that could gradually undermine the legal principles that have governed space for decades.

The opportunity before us is therefore to build the legal and diplomatic architecture before a major conflict forces us to do so under crisis conditions. Space gives the international community an unusual opportunity: We can see many of these problems developing before they become irreversible. We should use that opportunity to establish the rules now, while space remains a domain in which cooperation is still possible.

To quote German writer and polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: “From this place, and from this day forth, begins a new era in the history of the world, and you can all say that you were present at its birth.”

[Kaitlyn Diana edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.