If there's one thing we can rely on in this world, it's human arrogance, and space and astronomy are no exception.
The ancients believed that everything revolved around the Earth. In the 16th century, Copernicus and his colleagues refuted this view with the heliocentric model. Since then, telescopes and spacecraft have shown how insignificant we are. There are hundreds of billions of stars in our galaxy, the Milky Way, each star a sun like ours, many of which have planets orbiting them. In 1995, the Hubble Space Telescope captured its first deep-field image, showing us that there are hundreds of billions of galaxies in the known universe—huge, rotating clusters of stars scattered across space.
Let's take the International Astronomical Union's definition of space as everything in the universe except our planet and atmosphere. Asking the question “who owns the space?” seems funny. Arrogance on a whole new level. The idea that we can lay claim to the rest of the universe transcends all vanity. It's as if a group of atoms in my little finger became sentient and declared that they now own my entire body.
Several years ago, I suggested that space exploration could be divided into three distinct eras. The first was confrontation. It was World War II that pushed us into the first forays into the abyss, as it proved to be an effective way to further distribute munitions. The space race was born out of military competition – the desire to establish superiority. The second era brought cooperation. Formation of the European Space Agency in 1975 and this symbolic docking of Soviet and American spacecraft symbolized what humanity could achieve collectively. But now we stand on the threshold of the third era: commercialization. Space exploration is no longer the prerogative of not only states, but also billionaires, private companies and startups promising vacations in orbit.
Of course, the space industry has been commercial for decades, with many communications satellites, Earth observation systems, and some launch vehicles funded and operated by private sources. But what is changing is that people themselves are now part of the business plan as we move from exploration to eventual exploitation. Private space stations, space tourism, mining on the Moon and asteroids are the new frontier. Thus, the question of property suddenly acquired legal, ethical and economic relevance.
From a legal point of view, the foundations for space management were laid a long time ago. In the late 1950s and early 60s, when rockets first breached the Earth's atmosphere, the United Nations developed agreements governing activities beyond our planet. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty established some remarkably idealistic principles: “The exploration and use of outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, shall be for the benefit and interest of all countries, regardless of their degree of economic or scientific development, and shall be the heritage of all mankind.” I'd rephrase that for humanity, but I like that feeling.
This is a wonderful vision, but it is potentially increasingly fragile. As technology advances, these noble principles will come face to face with economic reality. When a commercial company finds a valuable mineral deposit on the Moon or an asteroid, who profits?
I would say that commercialization is necessary – space must pay for itself, because without profit, humanity will remain “earth-bound” for centuries. Exploration is expensive, and governments alone cannot afford to foot the bill. If helium-3 mining or asteroid capture helps fund missions that expand our knowledge, capabilities, and better use of our planet, that could be a good thing. But commercialization must be accompanied by fairness and transparency. Otherwise, we risk repeating the mistakes of our past, but on a truly cosmic scale.
I often like to draw comparisons to the East India Company: a private British enterprise that became so powerful that it could shape the policies of nations and at times had an army twice the size of Britain's. It all started as a trade; it ended in dominance. Could similar dynamics play out locally in our solar system, where a handful of today's tech giants and billionaires control access to orbit, communications and, ultimately, extraterrestrial resources? A monopoly in space would be dangerous for humanity. The challenge is to encourage innovation and investment without ceding ownership of space to a few individuals or organizations.
The moon is a fascinating example. For scientists, it serves as a natural laboratory – a place to study the history of the planet and test new technologies. But it's also an attractive commercial goal. At its poles there is water ice, which can be split into hydrogen and oxygen to produce rocket fuel. Its gravity is only one-sixth that of Earth, making it a reliable launching base for exploring deeper space. And some propose mining helium-3 on the lunar surface, a potential fuel for future fusion reactors. The possibilities are tempting. But who decides how the Moon's resources should be used and by whom?
The Outer Space Treaty prohibits national appropriation, but does not prohibit private companies from directly extracting resources. This ambiguity has prompted countries such as the United States and Luxembourg to pass their own space mining laws, granting rights to their domestic companies. However, if each nation made its own rules, could the result be chaos similar to the early Wild West, or even conflict? Space by its nature requires global regulation.
That is why I believe that we need to revive the spirit of the early treaties, not only in words, but also in deeds. Space should be viewed as a shared territory, analogous to the high seas or, perhaps more appropriately, Antarctica. Antarctica belongs to no one. It is protected for peaceful research under international agreement. That hasn't stopped some countries from eyeing its mineral resources, but the principle remains: collective management. Space requires the same approach. How we behave in the third space age will determine not only the future of exploration, but also what kind of species we are. Will we carry our old rivalry and greed to the stars, or will we finally learn to act as one planet, united by curiosity and caring?
As always, I'm hopeful. I believe the next generation will do a better job, and space puts things into perspective. When astronauts look at Earth from orbit, they experience a feeling of awe known as the “overlook effect.” They see our planet for what it really is: fragile and shared. Perhaps if we can stick to this view, even if we travel further, we can reach the stars in a way that benefits everyone.
Dame Dr Maggie Aderin-Pocock will give the 2025 Christmas Lectures at the Royal Institution.
Further reading
orbital Samantha Harvey (Jonathan Cape, £9.99)
Who owns the Moon? by AC Grayling (Oneworld, £10.99)
City on Mars Doctors Kelly Weinersmith and Zach Weinersmith (Penguin, £11.69)
