Artemis II: Geopolitical rivalry and extractive capitalism shape humanity’s lunar return—will we repeat colonial patterns or pioneer equitable space governance?

Indigenous lunar cosmologies universally frame the Moon as a sentient, sacred entity with intrinsic rights, not a commodity. NASA’s Artemis Accords explicitly reject Indigenous sovereignty claims, mirroring colonial land dispossession. The mission’s ‘flags-and-footprints’ approach ignores treaties like the 2020 Māori-led ‘Declaration of the Rights of the Moon,’ which asserts celestial bodies as kin. Western science’s ‘discovery’ narrative erases millennia of Indigenous astronomical knowledge, including Māori navigation or Andean lunar calendars.

The Artemis program echoes 19th-century polar expeditions, where ‘first contact’ narratives justified resource grabs under the guise of scientific progress. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty’s Article II bans national appropriation but lacks enforcement for private corporations, repeating the loopholes of the Antarctic Treaty. Historical precedents like the 1979 Moon Agreement—ratified only by non-spacefaring nations—show how extractive powers sideline equitable governance. The ‘space race’ metaphor itself is a Cold War relic, now repurposed for 21st-century geopolitical dominance.

Non-Western space programs (e.g., China’s Chang’e missions, India’s Chandrayaan) emphasize scientific collaboration over militarization, offering alternatives to Artemis’s US-led model. African scholars argue lunar governance should adopt Ubuntu philosophy, prioritizing communal benefit over individual profit. Islamic astronomy’s lunar traditions (e.g., determining Ramadan via moon sightings) highlight the Moon’s cultural centrality, absent in Western coverage. Pacific Islander navigators, who treated the Moon as a wayfinder, provide a model for celestial stewardship beyond extraction.

Lunar regolith contains rare earth metals and helium-3, but extraction risks contaminating permanently shadowed regions critical for future astronomy. NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter data shows polar ice deposits, yet Artemis’s landing sites (e.g., Shackleton Crater) overlap with scientifically sensitive areas. Peer-reviewed studies warn that unregulated mining could trigger dust storms altering lunar geology, a risk ignored in mission planning. The mission’s scientific goals (e.g., radiation shielding tests) are valid, but framed within a paradigm of exploitation rather than preservation.

Artists like Trevor Paglen and Indigenous filmmakers (e.g., Sterlin Harjo’s ‘Reservation Dogs’) critique space as a colonial fantasy, linking lunar exploration to Earthly dispossession. The Moon’s cultural symbolism spans from Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ to Māori waiata (songs) celebrating Marama (the Moon), yet Artemis’s imagery reduces it to a backdrop for human dominance. Spiritual traditions from Sufism to Hinduism view celestial bodies as divine mirrors, contrasting with the mission’s secular utilitarianism. These perspectives highlight the Moon’s role as a cultural commons, not a resource cache.

Scenario modeling by the Secure World Foundation predicts lunar bases could become corporate city-states by 2040 if property rights (e.g., ‘lunar deeds’) are privatized. Climate models suggest lunar dust could alter Earth’s atmospheric chemistry if mined aggressively, a feedback loop ignored in cost-benefit analyses. The ‘Gateway’ lunar station’s militarization (e.g., US-led Artemis Military Working Group) risks turning the Moon into a new battleground, as seen in Russia’s 2023 anti-satellite tests. Alternative futures include Indigenous-led ‘Moon Parks’ or UN-managed celestial reserves, but require preemptive policy shifts.

Global South nations (e.g., Nigeria, Colombia) lack Artemis partnership access, reinforcing colonial space hierarchies. Women and non-binary astronauts in Artemis II are celebrated, but their labor is still framed within a patriarchal ‘pioneer’ narrative that erases their contributions to decolonial space ethics. Disabled and neurodivergent perspectives (e.g., autistic astronomers) are excluded from mission design, despite their potential to reimagine inclusive space habitats. Indigenous engineers (e.g., Cherokee NASA scientist Tahira Reid) are tokenized rather than centered in governance decisions.