In 1969, the world held its breath as an American first set foot on the Moon, marking a triumph of courage, ingenuity, and unshakable resolve. But in the ensuing decades, that spark dimmed. The Soviet Union fell, and with it, our cosmic ambitions seemed to fade. We turned our gaze back to Earth.

Today, we are losing ground on a frontier we first claimed as ours. Moon should not be left as a relic of past triumphs; it is a modern strategic and economic prize. China and Russia recognize its potential — resources, technology, influence — and are advancing rapidly. Meanwhile, America hesitates, risking not just our pride, but our status as a global superpower. Moon is the gateway to the final frontier, the first step in humanity’s boundless future. It is time to claim a permanent foothold.

Lunacy

Moon, orbiting 239,000 miles from Earth, stands as a challenging yet crucial frontier. Its barren surface endures extreme temperature fluctuations, with only the craters near the south pole holding a rare treasure: water ice, vital for supporting life. Scattered across its regolith also lies a wealth of rare earth elements and metals like titanium, iron, and silicon — key materials for advanced technology and infrastructure.

Critically, Moon and its resources are governed by international agreements, notably the Outer Space Treaty (1967), which prohibits sovereignty claims and holds nations accountable for their entities’ activities. Supporting policies include the Rescue Agreement (1968) for astronaut aid, the Liability Convention (1972) for damage accountability, and the Registration Convention (1976) for spacecraft transparency — all widely accepted frameworks.

But not all policies have universal support. The Moon Agreement (1984), designed to restrict lunar resource extraction, was ratified by 18 nations with limited-to-no space capabilities, but ignored by major space powers like the United States, Russia, and China. Viewed as an attempt by non-spacefaring nations to curb those who were, its lack of support from key players has rendered it largely ineffective.

However, the rise of private space exploration has reshaped the political landscape. In 2015, President Obama signed the U.S. Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act, allowing companies to extract celestial resources for profit, among other commercial space streamlining initiatives. Strategically, this Act avoided sovereignty claims over extraction sites, aligning with the Outer Space Treaty (1967) by framing resource use as for the “benefit of all mankind,” as the treaty stipulates.

In 2020, President Trump went further, introducing the Artemis Accords as an international effort to establish a sustainable presence on Moon. The Accords outlined principles for development, including the creation of “safety zones of no interference" around activity sites, ensuring operational security without asserting territorial claims (in alignment with existing international space law.) Most Western-aligned nations, such as Canada and Japan, have since signed onto the Artemis Accords.

Growing political intrigue combined with the ambiguity surrounding “zones of no interference" has created a recipe for conflict. Prime lunar sites for human settlement are limited, and there is little clarity on what these zones entail or how disputes would be resolved. Potential definitions could range from the distance to the horizon, the impact of vibrations from activities, or the spread of dust clouds — all of which depend on the unique characteristics of the area in question.

What this means, in practice, is that being first matters. In a domain where legal claims are non-existent, physical presence is everything; the first to set up permanent activity would have reason to keep others out.

Space race 2.0

Concerningly, China and Russia have made significant strides in Lunar exploration, forging a deliberate path toward a sustainable presence on Moon.

China’s rapid advancements highlight their growing prowess in space exploration. In 2013, the Chang’e 3 mission achieved the nation’s first successful soft landing, deploying the Yutu rover. This was followed by the groundbreaking Chang’e 4 mission in 2019, the first to perform a soft landing on the far side of Moon, enabled by the Queqiao lunar communications relay satellite launched in 2018. In 2020, China showcased the extent of its technological capability with Chang’e 5, returning 1.73 kilograms of lunar soil to Earth for the first time since 1976. In 2023, China completed 66 orbital launches, including crewed missions, and is developing the Long March 9 rocket, “inspired” by SpaceX’s Starship design. And in 2024, they launched another lunar communications satellite — America has no such capabilities orbiting Moon.

Meanwhile, Russia is rekindling its lunar ambitions. The 2023 Luna 25 mission, Russia’s first since 1976, targeted Moon’s south pole. Although it crashed, the mission marked a significant step in its lunar resurgence, with Luna 26 and Luna 27 already planned for 2027 and 2028 respectively.

Collectively, China and Russia are now pooling their expertise to develop the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS). Both nations worked on a joint roadmap targeting operational capabilities by the 2030s, with plans for modular habitats, robotic rovers, and in-situ resource utilization. China’s Tiangong Space Station, launched in 2021, serves as a blueprint for sustainable space operations, while Russia’s Luna program contributes decades of experience. Together, they are challenging Western-led space governance.

While Sino-Russian efforts remain scientific today, it is crucial to understand that these missions are likely precursors to more assertive territorial ambitions. Antarctica provides a telling parallel: despite being governed by sovereignty restrictions and “zones of no interference,” the continent has seen mounting territorial discourse. Starting in 2013, China requested an “Antarctica Specially Managed Area” around Kunlun Station for expanded research purposes — an attempt blocked by international parties despite China’s willingness to compromise.

This precedent highlights a critical reality: under similar legal frameworks (with arguably more at stake), territorial disputes on Moon are unlikely to be resolved purely through diplomatic or legal means, nor is there any enforcement mechanism for such decisions. International “consensus” will likely lambast China for every move it makes on Lunar soil; it’s up to China to decide if they care. In 2015, China mistakenly revealed a map of Antarctica resource deposits before quickly taking it down — China is far less coy about their Lunar ambitions. When asked for justification, Ye Peijian, the head of China’s Moon program, declared, “The universe is an ocean, the Moon is the Diaoyu Islands, Mars is Huangyan Island,” hauntingly alluding to South China Sea territorial disputes.

In truth, today’s scientific missions enable nations to establish infrastructure under the guise of peaceful exploration, paving the way for future sovereignty claims. As competition intensifies for prime lunar sites, the likelihood of conflict grows. Even efforts framed as “astronaut search and rescue infrastructure” could easily become the precursor to deploying military assets on Moon.

Much like Antarctica, Moon will see the boundaries between scientific collaboration and territorial ambition blur, with national interests increasingly overshadowing shibboleths of international cooperation. The United States, and our allies through the Artemis Accords, must be the first to develop a permanent, advanced settlement on Moon. The legal ambiguity surrounding Lunar governance and territorial claims presents us with an immediate crisis, but our progress to date has been abysmal.

Project Artemis, America’s program to return to Moon, has been a massive disappointment. Key missions like Artemis I, an uncrewed test flight in 2022, and Artemis II, a crewed lunar flyby now delayed to 2026, have faced significant friction, including issues with the Space Launch System (SLS) rocket, Orion spacecraft, and spacesuits. Artemis III, intended to land astronauts on Moon by 2024, has been postponed to 2026 2027 due to delays with SpaceX’s “Human Landing System” and the Lunar Gateway. Moon habitation modules, part of the aptly named “Artemis Base Camp”, aren’t expected to be deployed until after Artemis IV and V, taking us well into the 2030s. Although, even this is an optimistic estimate — there is currently no scheduled “base deployment” mission, only a crudely defined long-term objective.

Moreover, the program’s reliance on the SLS — a $4 billion-per-launch expendable rocket — has drawn heavy criticism for inefficiency compared to reusable commercial systems like SpaceX’s Falcon launch vehicles or, soon, Starship, which is on track to be over 400x cheaper than SLS despite greater mass to orbit capabilities. Pessimistically, SLS functions more as a jobs program than a serious effort, and without it, Project Artemis might not exist in any form. However, with over $40 billion spent so far and projections exceeding $93 billion by 2025, Artemis is unsustainably costly and far too slow to compete with Sino-Russian efforts.

To lead in space, the U.S. should cancel SLS, Orion, and Gateway, reallocate resources to commercial solutions like Falcon and Dragon, and prioritize SpaceX’s Starship in a “Moon-direct” mission architecture for Lunar development. All or some of these changes would be positive; waiting until the 2030s to finish constructing a Moon base is unacceptable — China and Russia will beat us to the best sites and retain an unprecedented advantage.

Without decisive action, Moon risks becoming another contested frontier where influence slips from America’s grasp. Let us not make Moon a battlefield; we must get there first so we don’t have to consider it. With Jared Isaacman at the helm, NASA is in capable hands — Congress must not impede the coming, necessary change.

The final frontier

The race to Moon forms a compelling geopolitical narrative, but what’s truly at stake in this competition is much harder to grasp; our minds and markets are not built to think on such timescales. While beating China to a permanent Lunar settlement provides a strong near-term incentive, we must ensure that our space efforts are resilient enough to endure despite any adversary’s fleeting ambition to compete.

History offers a compelling parallel: Columbus’ journey was sparked by geopolitical competition — Spain’s quest for new trade routes — but it was the cultivation of economic competitive advantages that drove the transformation of the Americas.

The New World’s discovery sparked resource-driven expeditions that de-risked transatlantic travel. Similarly, Earth’s orbits serve as a hub for satcom and remote sensing, while making space launch safer through routine activity. But like early coastal hunts with seasonal outposts, these efforts alone don’t sustain a lasting presence. Space demands a Jamestown moment — a breakthrough that establishes the first permanent foothold and unlocks the final frontier.

This Jamestown colony on Moon would rely heavily on in-situ resources to sustain itself and minimize dependence on Earth. Located near Moon’s south pole, it would leverage water ice to produce oxygen for breathable air, hydrogen for fuel, and liquid water for consumption. Solar arrays positioned on elevated ridges with near-continuous sunlight would provide power, supplemented by nuclear fission reactors for reliable electricity during the two-week lunar night. Even Helium-3, a rare isotope deposited by solar wind on Moon’s surface and a potential fuel for aneutronic fusion, could one day ignite Lunar power plants.

Lunar regolith, rich in silicon, aluminum, and titanium, would be 3D-printed into components for habitats, landing pads, and tools. These structures, fortified with radiation shielding or built underground, would offer protection against extreme temperatures and cosmic rays. Hydroponic and aeroponic systems, using recycled water and nutrients derived from lunar minerals, would grow the first Lunar harvest. Over time, it would become a self-sustaining hub, exporting fuel, materials, and goods to support orbital and deep-space operations.

Politically, such a settlement is likely to begin as an autocracy, with power concentrated among groups funding and controlling its operations, including civil, military, and corporate entities. Workers may live under strict regulations and limited freedoms, as survival and efficiency take precedence over personal autonomy — one small mistake could kill everyone, and an astronaut’s valuable time will surely be rigorously regimented like it is today aboard the ISS. Of course, management efforts would also be supported by advanced robotics and artificial intelligence. Like Jamestown, the colony would be strained in its early years, grappling with resource scarcity and environmental hazards, but driven by the promise of long-term economic and political rewards. In time, perhaps even statehood.

The settlement of Jamestown, despite its resourcefulness, was only saved by tobacco cultivation — “New World” goods sold in mature “Old World” markets. The “tobacco" of space could take many forms: rare asteroid metals like platinum to revolutionize manufacturing, groundbreaking materials and compounds only possible in microgravity, or even tourism. These are products where space holds real competitive advantage, capable of providing unique value in existing markets. And with success in these ventures, entirely new industries would bloom, like oxygen suppliers or orbital shipyards — this is how space development becomes self-sustaining.

Despite advancements like Starship, Earth’s gravity keeps launch costs high; to build the massive cosmic structures that growing economic activity would demand, we must use resources from space — and this has a flywheel effect. Picture a factory at Earth-Moon L1, powered by abundant sunlight and processing towed asteroids brimming with metals (and much larger prizes lay waiting for us.) Eventually, nearly all industrial processes would move off-world, sparing the one planet we know sustains life. In this vision, climate activists should be among the strongest advocates for space development.

America: an astrocracy

Moon, more than a mere destination, is a strategic gateway towards this future. From a delta-v perspective, it is a massive, rocky satellite halfway to anywhere in the solar system. As a logistics hub and refueling station, its inhabitants will control the trade routes of the future, shaping the leaders of this new cosmic era just as Earth’s chokepoints have long defined power. From Moon, Earth’s orbits and deep-space would be under a watchful eye.

Consider the timeline of American development: over 100 years passed between Columbus’s voyages and the establishment of Jamestown, the first enduring colony. From that fragile beginning, it took centuries for the United States to emerge as a global superpower. Such lessons of history remind us that great achievements demand bold first steps and the patience to see them through. Nevertheless, we must conquer the frontier again, but this time, much faster.

Already, tens of thousands of satellites power our modern, digital world. Tomorrow, in-space manufacturing, resource extraction, and human habitation will require robust infrastructure, security, and law. Just as thalassocratic maritime empires once ruled the seas, the United States must reimagine itself as an Astrocracy — a space power. This transformation requires more than ambition; it demands steadfast commitment, technology, and our brightest minds.

To achieve this, we must dismantle bureaucratic roadblocks and unleash the full potential of trailblazers like SpaceX, while empowering the broader commercial space sector to cultivate the next generation of aerospace giants. NASA funding should prioritize transformative projects that propel us to greater heights, only pursuing missions worthy of our nation’s legacy — like Moon colonization, Mars exploration, or constructing massive telescopes. Importantly, such efforts must simultaneously leverage and transcend the narrow lens of national security; shifting geopolitics must not derail our cosmic aspirations.

Imagine a Space National Guard based at San Francisco’s Presidio — a hub of innovation in one of the most technically skilled cities on Earth (and notably, on federal land.) This “Starfleet” would unite scientists, engineers, and explorers, blending public ambition with private efficiency. To lead in space, we must embrace this new identity as a spacefaring nation, driven by curiosity and innovation. This ethos, more than military might, will define America’s next great chapter.

In his darkest hour, Winston Churchill proclaimed that he would endure until, “the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.” These words echo as a timeless call to action — it is the frontier that is both our future, and our salvation. What we once called a “moonshot,” a symbol of the impossible, must now become routine.

— Ryan McEntush