Artemis II astronauts frame Earth as a shared 'lifeboat'—but systemic neglect of space governance and climate risks undermines unity

Indigenous worldviews universally reject the 'lifeboat' metaphor, instead framing Earth as a living ancestor deserving of reciprocity and care. The Artemis narrative’s technocratic optimism mirrors colonial patterns of extraction, where space is treated as a new territory to dominate rather than a shared commons. Indigenous knowledge systems, such as the Andean *Pachamama* or Australian Aboriginal *Dreaming*, offer frameworks for intergenerational responsibility that the Artemis crew’s remarks fail to engage with. These perspectives highlight the need for decolonial approaches to space governance, where consent and reciprocity are central.

The 'lifeboat Earth' trope emerged during the Cold War, when space exploration was framed as a unifying spectacle amid nuclear anxiety, obscuring geopolitical competition. Historical parallels include the 1968 *Earthrise* photo, which was co-opted by environmental movements but also used to justify technocratic solutions like geoengineering. The Artemis program’s militarisation (e.g., Space Force partnerships) echoes Cold War space races, where unity was a secondary concern to strategic dominance. This history reveals how space narratives often serve as distraction from terrestrial injustices.

Cross-culturally, the 'lifeboat' metaphor reflects a Western, individualistic worldview that prioritises survival over harmony, contrasting with Indigenous and Eastern philosophies of balance. In Hindu cosmology, Earth (*Prithvi*) is a goddess whose suffering is tied to human actions, demanding ethical restraint rather than technological escape. African and Pacific Islander traditions emphasize communal resilience, where 'lifeboats' are built through collective care rather than elite missions. These perspectives critique the Artemis narrative’s assumption that spacefaring elites can 'save' Earth while perpetuating its degradation.

Scientifically, the 'lifeboat' metaphor is flawed because Earth’s biosphere is not a closed system but a dynamic, interconnected web vulnerable to cascading tipping points. Research shows that space debris, rocket emissions, and resource extraction from celestial bodies (e.g., lunar water) are accelerating ecological degradation both on and off Earth. The Artemis II mission’s carbon footprint (e.g., SLS rocket emissions) contradicts its 'unity' rhetoric, as it contributes to the very crises it claims to address. Systemic solutions require integrating space governance with Earth’s ecological limits.

Artistically, the 'lifeboat' metaphor has been critiqued in works like Kim Stanley Robinson’s *The Ministry for the Future*, which highlights how elite-led 'solutions' often exacerbate inequality. Spiritual traditions across the world warn against hubris in assuming humanity can 'escape' Earth’s crises, as seen in the Buddhist concept of *dukkha* (suffering) and its roots in attachment to control. The Artemis narrative’s awe-inspiring imagery risks numbing audiences to the structural violence underlying spacefaring, much like colonial art glorified conquest. Creative resistance, such as Indigenous futurism, offers alternative visions of space as a shared heritage.

Future modelling suggests that unregulated spacefaring could trigger a 'tragedy of the cosmic commons,' where corporate and state actors deplete celestial resources while exacerbating Earth’s crises. Scenario planning by the Secure World Foundation warns that militarisation of space (e.g., Space Force) increases the risk of conflict that could render Earth’s 'lifeboat' metaphor obsolete. Conversely, inclusive governance models, such as the Artemis Accords’ expansion to include Global South voices, could foster equitable resource sharing. The key question is whether humanity will repeat terrestrial patterns of exploitation in space or embrace regenerative alternatives.

Marginalised communities, particularly in the Global South, face the brunt of climate disasters and resource extraction yet are excluded from space governance debates. The Artemis narrative’s focus on astronauts as heroes erases the labor of Indigenous land defenders, who resist mining for space resources (e.g., lithium in Chile). Women and girls, who are disproportionately affected by climate change, are also sidelined in spacefaring narratives that prioritise technocratic masculinity. Their perspectives are critical for reimagining space as a site of justice rather than extraction.