NASA’s Artemis II: A neocolonial space race that obscures systemic inequities in Earth’s crises

Indigenous perspectives on the Moon emphasize relationality and stewardship, contrasting with Artemis II’s extractive framing. The mission’s launch site, Cape Canaveral, sits on land stolen from the Seminole and Timucua peoples, a history rarely acknowledged in space discourse. Traditional ecological knowledge systems, such as those of the Māori or Quechua, offer models of lunar exploration rooted in reciprocity rather than domination. The erasure of these views reinforces a colonial cosmology where space is a resource to be claimed, not a community to be engaged.

The Artemis program echoes 1960s space race militarization, where Cold War geopolitics drove lunar ambitions at the expense of domestic social programs. Historical precedents like the Apollo missions reveal how space exploration was used to legitimize U.S. global hegemony, a pattern Artemis II continues under the guise of ‘daring’ innovation. The mission’s focus on lunar resource extraction mirrors 19th-century colonial scramble for resources, now extended to celestial bodies. Structural inequities in STEM funding and access have persisted since the Space Race, with marginalized groups still underrepresented in aerospace leadership.

Cross-culturally, lunar missions are framed differently: in China, space exploration is tied to national rejuvenation and technological sovereignty, while in India, it’s seen as a tool for addressing rural development and education gaps. African and Indigenous traditions often view the Moon as a teacher or ancestor, not a destination, challenging the extractive logic of Artemis II. The Global South’s emphasis on using space technology for terrestrial problems (e.g., satellite-based climate monitoring) contrasts with Artemis II’s focus on human lunar return. These perspectives highlight how space missions can serve diverse societal goals beyond geopolitical signaling.

Scientifically, Artemis II’s focus on human lunar return is a technical milestone but not a priority for addressing Earth’s existential crises. The mission’s emphasis on lunar resource extraction (e.g., water ice for fuel) aligns with emerging space resource laws that prioritize corporate access over planetary protection. Scientific consensus warns that space debris and lunar mining could disrupt Earth’s magnetosphere and climate systems, yet these risks are downplayed. The mission’s scientific goals—such as studying lunar geology—are valuable but secondary to the geopolitical and economic agendas driving the program.

Artistically, Artemis II evokes a mythic narrative of human destiny, but this framing obscures the spiritual and creative dimensions of lunar exploration in non-Western traditions. Indigenous artists like the Māori tohunga (priests) or Aboriginal songlines map the Moon’s cycles as living stories, not conquests. Western space art often glorifies technological mastery, while African and Asian traditions depict celestial bodies as divine or ancestral, offering alternative visions of cosmic belonging. The mission’s imagery—astronauts as heroes—ignores the spiritual and artistic labor of communities excluded from this narrative.

Future scenarios for Artemis II range from a sustainable lunar economy to a dystopian ‘space apartheid’ where only elites access off-world resources. If unchecked, the mission could accelerate a ‘space resource curse,’ where lunar wealth concentrates in the hands of a few corporations and nations, mirroring terrestrial extractive industries. Alternative futures include collaborative lunar governance models inspired by Antarctic treaties or Indigenous land-back movements. The mission’s long-term implications for Earth’s climate—such as increased rocket emissions—are rarely modeled in mainstream discourse.

Marginalized voices are largely absent from Artemis II’s narrative, with women and people of color comprising only 25% of the astronaut corps and even fewer in leadership roles. Indigenous and Global South scientists are excluded from decision-making, despite their expertise in sustainable resource management. The mission’s funding priorities reflect a ‘trickle-down’ approach to STEM, where elite institutions benefit while historically Black colleges and minority-serving institutions receive minimal support. Grassroots movements, such as the Indigenous-led ‘Land Back’ space advocacy, are sidelined in favor of a top-down, corporate-driven vision.