TO ELON Musk—the founder of the extremely successful space launch vehicle and communication satellite company, SpaceX—colonizing the Moon and Mars, becoming a “multi-planet species,” is both profitable and vital to the future of humanity. NASA has endorsed this expansive vision of the next generation of human space flight in the form of a close collaboration between the Artemis lunar exploration program and SpaceX to employ a lunar lander derived from the very high-performance Starship design by the end of this decade.

To the Pentagon, U.S. domination of the space domain is key to national defense. This more militarized impulse has been institutionalized with the creation of the United States Space Force (USSF), a legacy of the Trump administration. In its more benign form, the USSF will provide dramatically improved situational awareness of human activity in cislunar space. More problematic is the prospect that the USSF is prepared to use force in this new, much larger, and increasingly contested space environment.

Clearly, we have entered a new space era, projecting all the Earth’s great power pathologies—ambition, fear, and greed—into the heavens. 

The United States and China are in an increasingly bipolar competition with traditional space powers such as Russia, the EU, Japan, and India playing a secondary role, tilting in one direction or the other. Thus, the terrestrial competition between Washington and Beijing is creating fresh facts and separate rules to guide their respective space policies and those of commercial actors, eclipsing the universally agreed Outer Space Treaty (OST) principle of space as “the province of all mankind.” Call it the new tragedy of the commons.

A MAJOR paradox of this uncertain era is that outer space has become ever more vital to sustaining civilization—everything, from GPS, global television, and the Internet to military command and control—yet burgeoning human activities in space have never been more imperiled. From the parade of billionaires whose leisure time is filled by space tourism, to both the United States and China landing rovers on Mars and NASA’s successful launch of a $10 billion Webb telescope peering into the origins of the universe, 2021 marked a new height for a crowded, contested cosmos. There is a mushrooming commercial space industry that includes Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin and Richard Branson’s Virgin Orbit launcher programs that are creating a presence in space that may soon rival or surpass the role of governments—who are ultimately responsible for private sector actions. Yet there is a dearth of global rules to guide space-faring nations’ behavior.

There’s no better illustration of this predicament than Russia’s anti-satellite (ASAT) test last November blowing up one of its own defunct military satellites and creating a cloud of more than 1,500 pieces of space debris. Even small pieces of debris, traveling at some 17,000 miles per hour, can cause crippling damage to satellites, potentially disrupting the space infrastructure that is the nervous system of modern life. Moscow’s test forced astronauts—and its own cosmonauts—on board the International Space Station (ISS) to take emergency safety measures for fear of collision.

Russia’s test followed a similarly dangerous Chinese ASAT test in 2007, and a U.S. ASAT test (though designed to minimize long-term orbital debris) in 2008. More recently, China protested small “cubesats—shoebox-sized satellites launched by SpaceX’s Starlink project to facilitate global broadband WiFi. One almost collided with China’s space station, so close that Beijing protested to the UN last December after having to take evasive action. At present, Starlink has approximately 1,600 small satellites in Low Earth Orbit (LEO), but Musk wants to launch 40,000. An explosion of private-sector space business—from satellite launches and space shuttles to the quest for mining asteroids and planets—has blurred the line between civilian and military activities, racing ahead of any duly considered global regulation. Dealing with space junk, however, is the most promising area for cooperation.

There are currently 4,550 operating satellites in LEO from some eighty nations, though roughly half are U.S. commercial and government/military satellites. They are essential for everything from nuclear command and control, climate observation to GPS, and the internet, streaming video, and ATMs. Moreover, an already crowded earth orbit is getting worse. The private sector is driving the new space economy enabled by new technologies to miniaturize satellites, like the aforementioned cubesats. Google and Elon Musk’s SpaceX alone plan to launch some 50,000 cubesats in this decade.

All this reflects a troubling anarchy in the cosmos, from a burgeoning Wild West scramble for space resources to a full-blown militarization of space—one ill-conceived aspect of unrestrained arms racing in this era of great power competition. Trends toward replicating a bifurcated international system in space are accelerating. The problem is a deficit of rules governing behavior in space—a domain, like sea, air, and cyber, that is a global commons. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty is the one foundational accord signed by all major space-faring nations, 111 in all. They agreed to the principles in the OST, which states in Articles I and II:

The exploration and use of outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, shall be carried out for the benefit and in the interests of all countries, irrespective of their degree of economic and scientific development, and shall be the province of all mankind. ... Outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.

In the real world, the treaty is sadly outdated by both technology (as ASAT tests demonstrate) and politics, as the United States and China plan Moon bases while many nations pass laws appropriating the right for and private sector firms to exploit minerals on asteroids. The treaty offers little guidance on collisions, the growing problem of space debris, or the intrusion or obstruction of a nation’s space assets, and lacks any dispute-settlement mechanism. There are some additional legal agreements in effect under the somewhat obscure UN Office for Outer Space: liability for damage caused by space objects, safety and rescue of spacecraft and astronauts, and registration of space activities. In theory, a Moon Treaty exists, but it has not been ratified by the United States, Russia, or China. The International Telecommunications Union regulates radiocommunications and orbital resources (satellites), but will it have the capacity to manage tens of thousands of cubesats?

In this era of populist nationalism and major powers competing for dominance, fashioning new global regimes or codes of conduct for space will be very challenging indeed. For example, Luxembourg, seeking to become a European hub for space mining, has enacted a law granting private firms the right to space resources, created a space mining center, and has invested in space mining startups. The UAE has adopted a similar law, as has the United States, when President Barack Obama signed a 2015 commercial space law granting U.S. businesses the right to extract resources throughout the cosmos. Donald Trump took it a step further with a 2020 Executive Order authorizing the commercial development of space resources, explicitly rejecting the notion that space is a global commons.

These laws claim to distinguish owning resources from sovereignty. Yet, on the premise of space as a global commons, the ost, which all major nations have ratified, explicitly bans the use of outer space and celestial bodies from “…national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.” How then, to construct an inclusive rules-based order?

THE BIDEN administration has endorsed the Artemis Accords, created by the Trump administration, as the preferred vehicle to address some of the concerns raised above. Basically, the Artemis Accords are principles, guidelines—rules of the road—for the exploration and exploitation of the Moon and cislunar space cooperatively. It is a complex, multistage plan to return Americans and others from partner nations to the Moon and its orbital neighborhood as a gateway to Mars. NASA will be working with national partners and relying to a considerable degree on private-sector contractors. The accords, now signed by thirteen U.S. allies and like-minded partners, are a noble initiative to offer public goods to narrow a dangerous gap between outdated rules of the road in space and an explosion of myriad emerging space activities unfolding with few guardrails.

It is a sign of the times that NASA, whose accords would be a strong draft to base global rules on, eschewed the path of negotiating a wider international pact to codify principles and guidelines for civilian space agencies. The accords are, in effect, rules that assert dominion over activities that, “…may take place on the Moon, Mars, comets and asteroids … as well as in the orbit of the Moon or Mars,” and in cislunar space. Yet, to date, they do not include some major space powers—China, France, Germany, and India. Europe remains divided on the Artemis Accords. In the case of China, NASA had little choice—the 2011 Wolf Amendment bans its cooperation or coordination with any Chinese government-affiliated entities. It has proved largely counterproductive, neither improving human rights nor constraining China’s space efforts. Instead, alarmed by NASA robust collaboration with SpaceX and other commercial partners, China has significantly accelerated investment in own, largely parallel lunar exploration plans.

Russia, though a long-standing partner in the ISS, has refused to sign the agreement, opting instead to partner with China on a Moon base and other space ventures. That divorce between Russia and its space station partners has drastically accelerated following the draconian sanctions that followed the Putin regime’s decision to conduct an all-out invasion of unoccupied Ukraine. Noteworthy have been the threats made by Dimitry Rogozin, the head of the Russian space program, to physically separate the Russian segment from the rest of the ISS. As for the other nations, India, like France and Germany, has also so far declined to join, though there is ongoing debate over it in Delhi. That the undertaking is a U.S. unilateral effort, outside the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, not the result of an international negotiation, may be a factor. In that sense, it may be viewed as an assertion of U.S. primacy—whether intended or not—and a reflection of the trend toward bifurcation of global governance. In shorthand, the Biden administration’s protracted conflict between democracy and autocracy.

NASA has tried to ensure the Artemis Accords are “in accordance with the Outer Space Treaty,” and signatories do very conspicuously comply with it. The accords outline mostly sensible and prudent rules for operations and cooperation in space, including transparency with regard to participants’ space policies and plans; detailing location and the nature of undertaken space activities; open access to scientific data, including that which results from joint ventures; and following OST provisions of due regard for other activities and harmful interference of other parties. Signatories also are obliged to give notification and coordination of their activities “with relevant parties” to deconflict any problems and commit to developing interoperable exploration infrastructure, such as landing facilities, fuel storage, and communications and power systems. Additionally, signatories agree to “respect the principle of free access to all areas of celestial bodies and all other provisions of the Outer Space Treaty,” in addition to following other internationally agreed practices on operational cooperation—emergency assistance to personnel in distress in accord with the OST on the rescue and return of astronauts, and the registration of space objects.

Where things get a bit hazy is Artemis’ language on the extraction of space resources. The accords include self-declared “safety zones,” where signees’ space activities can take place. The accords state that the extraction of resources from the Moon and other celestial bodies “should be executed in a manner that complies with the Outer Space Treaty” before adding that “Signatories affirm that the extraction of space resources does not inherently constitute national appropriation under Article II of the Outer Space Treaty.” It is difficult to see how this would be consistent with Artemis’ “principle of free access to all areas of celestial bodies.” And many legal experts express strong doubt about this point. As noted above, owning resources seems problematic with the OST language that says celestial bodies are not subject to “national appropriation by claim of sovereignty.” It adds that the Moon or asteroids cannot be claimed “by means of use ... or by any other means.” The accords do include provisions for consultation with non-Artemis parties, but no global dispute settlement mechanism exists.

This would seem to beg the question: by what right can nations grant property rights to space mining companies, or for that matter, build manned stations on the Moon or Mars, if they are not sovereign? Nobody owns the Moon. To non-lawyers like us it is not obvious, as the OST does not provide an unambiguous basis for making a judgment in that regard. What would preclude China, Russia, or India from granting the right to mine minerals to their state firms if they got there first, or from claiming prime real estate on the Moon’s water-rich north or south poles for their manned bases? Whatever the stated rational, it would seem that what really matters is power and space capabilities. The space resource issue seems ripe for conflict between competing nations absent new global rules.

The Artemis Accords, though a good start, are thus an incomplete effort to update space governance to effectively regulate the activities made possible with current and emerging technology. In fact, NASA’s own Artemis lunar program itself may end up competing with Elon Musk and the agency’s other private sector partners for who gets to the Moon or Mars first. NASA is already starting to send new scientific payloads to the Moon—landers and rovers to gather data on lunar resources. NASA has a five-year timetable to first build a new space station, the Lunar Gateway, in orbit around the Moon. The Gateway will be used as the long-duration staging base for shuttle operations to and from the lunar surface. Currently, that shuttle will be a Human Landing System (HLS) derived from the SpaceX Starship design, and will represent a quantum leap in payload capacity as compared to the tiny Lunar Excursion Module used during the Apollo missions. Furthermore, NASA has disbursed additional contracts out to encourage one or more additional lunar landers to be ready to support the late-decade effort to set up a permanent presence on the Moon.

CISLUNAR SPACE is a sphere of interest that is 1,000 times the volume of space associated with operations that occur at geosynchronous orbit—about an altitude of 22,236 miles above the ground. After all, the orbit of the Moon is on average 239,000 miles away from Earth (for reference, the ISS orbits on average 250 miles from Earth). The sphere of interest of cislunar space, by contrast, will extend out to more than one million miles well beyond the orbit of the Moon. From the perspective of human spaceflight missions, this region will be much more hostile to human longevity. Unlike operating at LEO altitudes (lower than 1,000 miles) and inside the protection of the Earth’s magnetic field, humans venturing in this region of space and the surface of the Moon will be subjected to a much more severe radiation threat from solar storms and galactic cosmic rays. Furthermore, humans will have to operate for a long duration in either a zero-gravity environment or on the Moon, with a surface gravity one-sixth of the Earth’s, with potential negative biological side effects.

To grasp the complexity of these spaceflight missions, it is very important to understand the space environment outside the zone of the Earth’s gravity well where most operational satellites orbit. It is quite different due to the dominant role of the sun and Moon’s gravity in affecting what is called the Three-Body Problem. Put simply, the orbital mechanics of a spacecraft inside the Earth’s gravity well do not apply. Trajectories are no longer circular, elliptical, and in a plane relative to the Earth—no longer easy to describe geometrically. What a space vehicle operator in cislunar space will need to find to facilitate long-term missions are zones of relative gravitational stability. These regions in the Sun/Earth and Earth/Moon gravitation systems were first identified by Joseph-Louis Lagrange in 1772.

There are five Sun/Earth Lagrange points, hereafter referred to as L1 through L5. L1 and L2 are on the Sun/Earth axis outside of the orbit of Moon. L1 is on the “sunny side” of the Earth while L2 is on the Earth’s far side. Both zones allow for the deployment of satellites that can operate in what is known as a halo orbit, which requires only a modest amount of fuel to keep them in that meta-stable zone. A good example of a spacecraft taking advantage of L2 is the recently successful deployment of the James Webb Space Telescope for its ten-year mission.

L3, on the opposite side of the Sun, is likely to only be of future scientific interest in exploring stabilized natural satellites in that zone of gravitational equilibrium. L4, meanwhile, precedes the Earth in its orbit, and L5 follows and represents zones of relative gravitation equilibrium. The Earth/Moon system has its own L4 and L5 locations of gravitational equilibrium inside cislunar space that track a lunar orbit. Although not exploited by the scientific community, several space visionaries such as Gerard O’Neill, and more recently, Jeff Bezos, have proposed the construction of huge space stations, if not outright communities, from materials provided by the Moon.

Similar gravitation equilibrium can be found at halo—quasi-periodic orbits around the Moon that are basically in a vertical orientation to the orbital plane of Earth/Moon system. It is this type of orbit that will be used by NASA’s Artemis program for its proposed Lunar Gateway.

To monitor human activity on the surface of the Moon, satellites using lunar orbits have and will have to be used. To monitor the relative vastness of cislunar space, on the other hand, spacecraft equipped with long-distance sensors will have to be deployed in a variety of lunar halo and Lagrange Point orbits. These surveillance satellites will have to be equipped with powerful electro-optic sensors. Active sensors, such as radar and lasers, will be limited by the power-square law (the intensity of a beam of electromagnetic energy is reduced by the square of the distance it travels), and likely be ineffective for the wide-area surveillance mission. In the future, a number of these surveillance satellites may be armed, but would require a robust propulsion system to maneuver to potential targets of interest operating in cislunar space.

FOR THE next decade, a growing area of Sino-American competition will center on the establishment of permanent scientific and water mining sites on the polar regions of the Moon. Current data suggest that very large deposits of water can be found in those polar craters, whose floors have not been exposed to the sun for billions of years. Not unlike the Wild West in the United States during the nineteenth century, there could be a mad rush to stake out various water rights. The USSF could play the role of the 7th Cavalry in protecting those water rights. As noted above, the stage could be set for direct conflict between the United States with its Artemis Accord allies and a Sino-Russian alliance that make competing claims—with dubious legal precedence. Very quickly, various research and mining stations might have a military garrison occupied mostly with combat robots and defensive weapons.

What might combat on and around the Moon look like? What might be the forces deployed without constraint by the late 2030s? Several features of the lunar surface as a battlefield should be emphasized. First is the fact that the lunar gravity well is one-sixth of Earth’s, meaning that a discharged munition needs to reach only just over three and half thousand miles an hour to reach lunar orbital velocity. A mortar with a rocket-propelled shell could reach hundreds of kilometers downrange. These physics mean that combat as we know it must be rethought. Human and robot soldiers are likely to be equipped with zero recoil weapons, which may or may not include directed energy weapons such as high-power microwaves and lasers.

Precision-guided weapons will need reaction jets, since the lunar surface is without a meaningful atmosphere. Most ordinance may come in two forms. First are munitions that generate clouds of fragments, not unlike the late nineteenth-century Shrapnel artillery shells. Second are lunar-penetrating warheads designed to destroy lunar fortifications and/or underground sites. Another weapon concept much discussed by science fiction more than fifty years ago is the electromagnetic mass accelerator. It is possible that a commercial variant may be built to provide lunar building materials to one or more very large space stations under construction during the 2030s—the current dream of Jeff Bezos and others. On the other hand, a very large mass driver will be extremely vulnerable to destruction by a number of tactical weapons described.

Survival for human combat troops will be daunting, with or without actual combat. They will need vehicles that can operate during the roughly two-week periods of daylight and nighttime. During nighttime, the lunar soldiers and their fighting machines will have to have sufficient power reserves to operate without solar power. Actual combat may be quite brief, given the fragility of human soldiers and human infrastructure on the Moon. One side may win or lose very quickly. Naturally, the war might be continued by the losing side through the use of munitions launched from cislunar space or the Earth.

Given the fragility and overhead costs of human combat troops, it is highly likely that the major military players will rely heavily on robotic combat systems. These will range from swarming munitions launched from mortar launchers to large, centaur-type combat robots. The latter may use a combination of legs and wheels for surface locomotion. Many of these combat systems may have rocket propulsion to allow for short and long-distance hopping maneuvers. The concept of hopping vehicles will likely be fully developed to support diverse exploration activities during the first decade of the human return to the Moon. For example, the SpaceX HLS will have this capacity to conduct suborbital hops around the Moon.

What about combat in cislunar space? The battlefield will be enormous. Given the performance limits of current chemical and electric propulsion technology, engagements between hostile fighting vehicles might take days or weeks. Directed-energy weapons might be useful to provide close-in offense and defense options. Yet it is likely that all potential combatants will employ munitions that can create a high-velocity cloud of fragments. These munitions could be accelerated by rocket or electromagnetic propulsion. Once detonated, the cloud will overwhelm any plausible close-in defense weapon. As noted above, these spacecraft might be equipped with munitions to strike the lunar surface if only as part of an assured retaliation capability to deal with any military imbalance on the surface of the Moon. Not to be forgotten, one or more nations involved in this military competition might be prepared to launch nuclear weapons from the Earth as the ultimate assured retaliation capability.

To develop and deploy the types of combat capabilities described above will consume very large resources that could be more usefully put toward the more noble goal of establishing a productive long-term presence on the Moon—not to mention possibly on Mars and various asteroids with commercial mining potential. Given the mutual vulnerabilities and accessibility of multiple means to disrupt or destroy satellites and other space infrastructure, war in space is very likely to be very expensive and indecisive. The notion of space dominance falsely compared to the concepts of naval and air dominance is likely to prove a mirage.

OF ALL the unresolved questions about space activities, the most urgent need—and most promising for new cooperation—is removing or mitigating the threat from space debris. Nations cooperate, pooling risks and burdens when they perceive their interests intersect. The threat of space debris to all nations’ vital economic and national security assets in space—democracy-autocracy polarization notwithstanding—would, like climate change, seem such an instance.

The U.S. Department of Defense’s Space Surveillance Network is the premier mechanism for monitoring space junk. Russia has some orbital monitoring capacity, but few other states do. Moreover, in addition to its unrivaled space surveillance capacity to monitor debris, the United States already has Spacing Sharing Agreements with over 100 nations to provide data and notifications to avoid collisions. These are important global public goods that can provide diplomatic leverage for shaping space rules and standards on space debris. The United States had given a heads-up to China about such risks during the Obama administration, according to well-placed sources. 

In addition, private sector firms and startups in Japan, the United States, and Europe are devising ways to remove space debris, in what appears to be a coming sector of the space economy. The U.S. Space Force’s technology arm is already exploring the possibility of funding private firms to remove space debris. There are a range of methods of space junk removal being developed from satellite magnets, nets, harpoons, and even spider-like webs. These are all likely future contractors, bearing the risks of research and development.

All this points to possibilities for new collaboration on space junk, great power competition notwithstanding. No need for formal UN bureaucracies to begin. There are only a handful of high-performance space-faring states—the United States, Russia, China, the EU, Japan, and India. As discussed above, the United States is well-positioned as first among equals to launch an ad hoc public-private coalition of space powers—the Space Sextet, if you would—partnering with the private sector to pool resources and (non-national security-sensitive) capabilities to better monitor and clean up space debris and seek mutually acceptable codes of conduct and rules for such activities. It would be helpful if the five Permanent Members of the UN Security Council could give it a mandate with a UN Security Council resolution, or perhaps a G7 call to action. It should be an open architecture based on the principle of form follows function: open to emerging space powers—South Korea, Brazil, Israel, and others.

OVER THE coming decade, multifarious activities and presence in cislunar space and on the Moon will unfold. If left untended, the probability of conflicts over competing Moon presences, space mining, and military activities is significant, if not inevitable. Given the magnitude of the space debris problem—existential for all activities in space—a space debris-focused coalition would seem a strong opening gambit to begin to address the space governance deficit, and perhaps alter the tone and political climate, before space activities overwhelm the capacity to manage them. 

Creating an international consensus between great power rivals to redress the challenge of space debris may be the relatively easy part in any international agreements on the future conduct of space activities. The more daunting challenge is to try to build a framework for the exploration (and exploitation) of the Moon and the larger sphere of interest, cislunar space. A priority is to negotiate an agreement analogous to the Law of the Sea that defines property rights on the Moon, though such would likely be a protracted undertaking—the Law of the Sea negotiations began in 1973 and ended in 1982.

Negotiations between the alliance associated with the Artemis Accords and the likely coalition of states led by China are likely to be demanding and difficult. Yet the prospect of the lunar version of range wars over valuable real estate should give the international community pause. Unregulated resource exploitation on the Moon will likely lead to the competitive deployments of military forces on its surface and in the expanse of cislunar space. To avoid a full-blown military competition, it will be necessary to develop a number of confidence-building if not arms control measures. One possibility is to internationalize the demanding requirements for situation awareness in cislunar space. This might include the creation of one of more command centers or intelligence cooperative clearing-houses on the Earth and Moon that has access to a multinational fleet of surveillance spacecraft.

The optimal goal then is to try to maximize the transparency of human activities in and around the Moon. More ambitious are a variety of arms control protocols, if not disarmament provisions, to sustain the demilitarization of the surface of the Moon. For example, only an international police force—Lunar Blue Helmets, for argument’s sake—might be allowed to carry light weapons such as tasers on the Moon. All heavy weapons and robotic fighting vehicles would be banned. Naturally, some lunar infrastructure projects, such as large electromagnetic mass drivers, may have to be put under international supervision.

As noted above, the one emblem of successful space science collaboration, the ISS, the area of agreement between the respective space agencies of the United States, Russia, EU, Japan, and Canada, may be abruptly terminated, collateral damage from the Russo-Ukrainian War. President Joe Biden recently announced that the United States will extend the operations of the International Space Station until 2030. It is highly likely that Russia with ally itself with China in its robust effort to explore the Moon. Very uncertain following the outcome of the Russo-Ukrainian War is whether Russia will have the financial and technological wherewithal to be more than a much-diminished partner with China in this regard.

Why not invite China to accede to the ISS, and its affiliate, the Tiangong Space Station, to reinforce a successful emblem of space cooperation? Unfortunately, the 2011 Wolf Amendment bans collaboration between NASA and the Chinese space agency. Given the challenges of space and space governance, some degree of cooperation with China on civil space activities will almost certainly be necessary and need not compromise national security. The areas where cooperation make sense do not involve tech transfer or collaboration with Chinese labs, which was the intent of the legislation. Congress would be wise to amend or repeal the Wolf Amendment. 

Space appears to be an arena where the democracy vs. autocracy divide doesn’t quite work with regard to the United States’ best interests. In December, the White House issued a document billed as the “US Space Priorities Framework.” One of its principles is that “the US will lead in strengthening global governance of space activities.” Yet the next sentence speaks of “working with commercial industry, allies, and partners in order to do so.” But the document also speaks in universal terms, with the very same paragraph saying that the United States “will bolster space situational awareness, sharing such information“ and, “provide basic spaceflight safety services to all operators.”

Such ambiguity reflects the democracy against autocracy rhetoric that Biden espouses. It works even less well with regard to the cosmos than it does on Earth. Like the oceans, space policy would be wise not to veer too far from the notion that it is, as the United States is treaty-bound to agree, a global commons. Unfortunately, the geopolitical fallout from Russo-Ukrainian War has put a dark cloud over any future cooperation with Beijing to narrow the governance deficit and shape more formal rules of space exploration to reduce the prospect of the militarization of the moon and cislunar space. A bifurcated world is one that is prone to conflict—a reality that promises to be a lose-lose in outer space. All of this discussion may project the aura of science fiction. But fiction is rapidly becoming reality. And the need to act is clear.

Robert A. Manning is a senior fellow of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and its New American Engagement Initiative at the Atlantic Council. He was a member of the U.S. Department of State policy planning staff from 2004 to 2008 and on the National Intelligence Council Strategic Futures Group from 2008 to 2012.

Peter A. Wilson is an adjunct senior national security researcher at the RAND Corporation. He currently teaches a course on the history of military technological Innovation for the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI).

Image: Reuters.