With NASA gearing up for its Artemis II mission, set to launch four astronauts on a historic journey around the Moon before returning to Earth in approximately ten days, the global race to establish a permanent human presence on our celestial neighbor has undeniably intensified. This upcoming mission is a critical precursor, designed to rigorously test the Orion capsule’s hardware and systems, paving the way for the ambitious Artemis IV mission, targeted for 2028, which aims to put American astronauts on the lunar surface for the first time in over half a century. While a human landing isn’t imminent, NASA’s overarching vision for the next five years extends far beyond mere visits: it encompasses not only landing humans on the Moon but also establishing a sustainable, lengthy human presence on its enigmatic surface.
This ambition to foster long-term habitation is NASA’s primary differentiator for the Artemis program when compared to the transient Apollo missions of the 1960s and 1970s. The goal is no longer just to plant a flag and collect samples for a few days, but to construct a permanent lunar base, enabling astronauts to live and work on the Moon for weeks, or even months, at a stretch. The precise duration of these stays remains somewhat fluid, but the underlying concept is to evolve from short expeditions to sustained residency, transforming the Moon into an outpost for scientific discovery and future deep-space exploration.
Such an audacious goal inherently complicates logistics on an unprecedented scale. Astronauts cannot simply transport all necessary supplies and resources from Earth for extended stays; the prohibitive cost and mass constraints make this impractical. Instead, a cornerstone of the Artemis strategy is the pioneering concept of in-situ resource utilization (ISRU). This involves identifying, extracting, and processing resources found directly on the Moon to support human operations. Rather than shipping immense quantities of water from Earth, for instance, the plan is to locate lunar ice deposits, melt them, and convert the water for drinking, oxygen production, and even rocket fuel. This seemingly “simple” solution forms a critical justification for the entire Artemis endeavor: resources are indispensable for sustaining a Moon base, therefore a Moon base must be built to locate and exploit those very resources. This circular logic, while pragmatic from an operational standpoint, sets the stage for a complex interplay of scientific objectives, technological hurdles, and profound legal and geopolitical implications.
The reality of establishing a long-term human presence on the Moon is far from simple, however, due to both scientific and legal complexities. The lunar environment is exceptionally harsh and unforgiving. Astronauts must contend with dangerous levels of space radiation, which poses significant long-term health risks. The omnipresent lunar dust, known as regolith, is abrasive and electrostatically charged, acting like microscopic shards of glass that can damage equipment, abrade spacesuits, and even infiltrate habitats, posing a respiratory hazard. Furthermore, operating in a gravitational environment significantly different from Earth’s introduces challenges for human physiology and engineering design. While perhaps more grounded than the ambitious Mars colonization plans frequently championed by SpaceX CEO Elon Musk, NASA’s target of establishing a functional Moon base by 2030 remains an exceptionally optimistic timeline given the myriad obstacles.
Throughout its public messaging for Artemis, NASA has consistently underscored the paramount importance of identifying and extracting lunar resources. This includes water ice, crucial for life support and propellant; helium-3, a potential clean energy source; and rare earth elements like scandium, vital for advanced electronics. The actual abundance and accessibility of these resources remain largely unquantified, awaiting more extensive mapping and assessment. Nevertheless, their potential value for sustaining lunar habitation is undeniable, feeding into the core justification of Artemis: a base is needed to find resources, and resources are needed to sustain a base. The agency has even gone so far as to describe these endeavors as a “lunar gold rush,” a phrase that, while evocative, immediately raises a red flag for many experts regarding a fundamental problem that no amount of technological innovation can solve: international law.
While the body of international law specifically governing space exploration may appear limited compared to terrestrial law, the existing framework is remarkably clear on one fundamental principle: no single entity, nation, or corporation owns the Moon, or any other celestial body. The Outer Space Treaty (OST), signed nearly six decades ago in 1967, stands as the bedrock of international space law. It explicitly enshrines the principle of non-appropriation, unequivocally stating that nations cannot claim sovereignty over any part of outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, either by proclamation, by use or occupation, or by any other means. This principle aims to prevent a territorial scramble in space, ensuring that space remains the “province of all mankind.”
However, the legal interpretation becomes considerably more ambiguous when it comes to the extraction of resources. This is where the “sticky territory” begins. “The US considers that resource extraction is not appropriation,” asserts Cassandra Steer, a renowned space law expert and founder of the Australasian Centre for Space Governance. This interpretation, however, is fiercely contested by many international space lawyers, including Steer herself, who argue it is a deliberate misreading of the treaty. “That is an incorrect interpretation of the Outer Space Treaty. You’re trying to carve out a loophole,” Steer contends. The logic is straightforward: if a nation were to begin excavating and removing vast quantities of resources from a territory on Earth over which it held no sovereign claim, such actions would undoubtedly trigger a host of legal challenges, ranging from property rights to environmental impact. The Moon, under the OST, is meant to be beyond national appropriation, and many argue that extracting its resources for national or commercial gain effectively constitutes a de facto appropriation.
The United States has adopted a strategic and proactive approach to navigate this legal ambiguity through the creation of the Artemis Accords. Crucially, the Accords are not an international treaty, which would require ratification by national legislatures, but rather a series of bilateral agreements signed by participating nations. To date, over sixty countries have signed on, committing to a set of high-level principles intended to guide responsible civil space exploration, particularly concerning the Moon. Many of these principles are widely considered sound and reasonable, promoting transparency, the sharing of scientific data, the establishment of safety and emergency procedures, and a commitment to the peaceful use of outer space.
Yet, embedded within the Accords are specific provisions that directly address and permit the extraction and utilization of space resources. These provisions explicitly state that such activities do not conflict with the principle of non-appropriation as outlined in the Outer Space Treaty. Furthermore, the Accords allow signatory nations to establish “safety zones” around their areas of lunar activity, within which other nations are expected not to interfere. This framework, while not explicitly granting ownership of lunar territory, implicitly grants priority access and exclusive operational rights to those who initiate activities like research or mining in a particular region. It essentially allows a nation to claim an area for resource extraction, effectively barring others from that specific location, even if they don’t “own” the land itself. This creates a de facto system of exclusive access and control over potentially valuable lunar real estate.
The historical parallel to the 19th-century American West, with its infamous “land grabs” and fierce competition for critical resources like water, is difficult to ignore. Rebecca Boyle, a journalist and author of the book Our Moon, draws this connection explicitly: “I think the Artemis Accords might open the door for these sorts of access claims on the Moon.” She further elaborates, “The accords do say that safety zones should be relevant to the activities at hand, but again, I think a creative attorney or a nifty legal argument could lead to a situation where someone who gets to a spot first uses the safety zone rule to lay claim to whatever is there.” This concern highlights the potential for the Accords, despite their stated intentions, to be exploited to establish preferential rights, transforming space exploration from a collaborative endeavor into a competitive scramble for resources.
The shrewdness of the US strategy lies in its integration of the Accords into the Artemis program itself. Countries aspiring to participate in NASA’s lunar missions were effectively compelled to sign the document, creating a powerful incentive for compliance. With key spacefaring nations such as Canada, Japan, Australia, the UAE, and the UK initially on board, a domino effect followed, drawing in many other countries, including France, Israel, Saudi Arabia, India, and Germany. “And so, it was a bit of a strong-arming of the US to say, if you want in on our program, you have to agree with our international law interpretation. It is forcing what we call opinio juris in international law,” Steer explains. Opinio juris refers to the belief that a state action is legally required or permitted. By securing widespread consensus on its interpretation of resource extraction, the US aims to solidify a new customary international law, potentially overriding the original spirit and intent of the Outer Space Treaty through broadly accepted practice. As Steer bluntly summarizes, “You’re just trying to rewrite the treaty, and somehow you’ve convinced 60 countries to do it with you.”
The true “elephant in the room” in this complex legal and geopolitical maneuvering is China. Notably absent from the list of Artemis Accords signatories, China is rapidly advancing its own ambitious lunar program, potentially aiming to land its astronauts on the Moon even before the US. The relationship between China and the US in space activities is practically non-existent, characterized by a lack of cooperation and mutual suspicion. However, China has been actively cultivating its own international collaborations for its lunar endeavors, forging agreements with Russia for the establishment of the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS) and carrying payloads from various European countries and Saudi Arabia on its lunar rovers. This parallel development of lunar infrastructure by rival powers underscores the intensely competitive nature of the new space race, with the US aggressively pushing its Artemis program to pre-empt its rivals.
“The multi-trillion-dollar question is, why go to the Moon? And it is, to my mind, purely geopolitical,” Steer asserts. This sentiment echoes the motivations behind the original space race during the Cold War, where the contest between the US and the Soviet Union to reach the Moon was not merely about technological prowess but a profound demonstration of political power and ideological superiority. In the current era, characterized by rising nationalism and great power competition, the US is once again striving to affirm its global leadership and capabilities. However, this nationalist rhetoric often obscures the fundamental reality of modern space exploration, which increasingly relies on intricate international partnerships and cross-border cooperation.
Today, more than just prestige is at stake. Control over strategic space resources—ranging from key cislunar orbital pathways to specific lunar locations rich in water ice or helium-3—could confer significant advantages. NASA’s justifications for Artemis, while often presented as scientific, have been notably circular: “We need to send astronauts to the Moon to secure access to ice, because we need access to water to support human exploration.” While genuine scientific justifications exist for lunar missions—such as studying the Solar System’s formation, understanding planetary evolution, or utilizing the Moon as a stable platform for powerful telescopes—these broader scientific objectives have frequently taken a backseat in NASA’s public discourse, overshadowed by resource-driven and geopolitical narratives.
“The real justification, the hidden one, is who gets to have political dominance,” Steer concludes. “Space is just another domain where geopolitics are playing out. It’s no different from the AI race, it’s no different from competition around other resources, around oil, around water… It’s another domain where the US is grasping at straws to remain the single dominant power, and discovering that actually it can’t.” The Artemis project, while a marvel of engineering and human ambition, thus becomes a microcosm of broader global power struggles, where the quest for scientific advancement and sustainable human presence on the Moon is inextricably intertwined with complex legal interpretations, historical precedents, and the enduring geopolitical rivalries of the 21st century. The legal dubiousness of its resource extraction strategy, therefore, is not merely a technicality but a fundamental challenge to the future of peaceful and equitable space exploration.
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