The night sky doesn’t check passports. That pale, quiet Moon hanging overhead belongs to the whole species—not to one government, not to a single way of thinking. And yet, as the Artemis program gears up for a long-term return to the lunar surface, the rulebook guiding this next chapter feels lopsided. I’m talking about the Artemis Accords. These bilateral agreements—signed by more than three dozen countries as of early 2025—lay out principles for civil exploration. The ideas are sound. But the real promise of the Accords depends on something they haven’t yet achieved: wide, fair participation from every corner of the planet, and especially from the Global South, where I started my own improbable path from Abuja to astrophysics.
I’ve spent a career staring at distant galaxies, but I’ve also learned how space policy shapes lives down here. The Accords are built on the 1967 Outer Space Treaty. Peaceful purposes, transparency, interoperability, emergency assistance, responsible handling of space resources—the language is thoughtful. Still, a framework drafted by a small group, however sincere, can never capture the full picture. If we want a lunar future that lasts, we need to fix the structural gaps that leave talented nations and young space programmes watching from the outside.
The Current Landscape of the Artemis Accords
NASA and the U.S. State Department launched the Accords in 2020. They’re not a treaty—they’re a set of political commitments. Signatories agree to avoid harmful interference, share scientific data, and protect heritage sites like the Apollo landing zones. By early 2025, countries from Japan to Brazil, Nigeria to Romania, had put pen to paper. But scan the list and the imbalance jumps out. Europe, North America, and chunks of Asia-Pacific are well covered. Most of Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia? Barely a footprint. As an African scientist, I don’t read that as indifference. I read it as a wall of systemic obstacles.
Lots of countries in these regions have young space agencies—Nigeria’s NASRDA, Kenya’s KSA, the UAE’s MBRSC—but they’re climbing a steeper hill. The Accords, as written, assume a floor of technical ability, regulatory know-how, and diplomatic bandwidth that many nations are still assembling. Signing isn’t just a ceremony; it means committing to debris mitigation standards, resource extraction zones, and open-data practices that can strain lean institutions. Without deliberate capacity-building, the Accords start to feel like a members-only club for the already space-ready.
Why Exclusion Carries Real Consequences
Undermining Legitimacy in Space Governance
International law breathes through wide acceptance. The Outer Space Treaty has 114 parties, including every major spacefaring nation. The Moon Agreement? Just 18. That’s largely because it didn’t bring the key players inside the tent during drafting. The Accords could slide down the same slope if they stay a patchwork of bilateral deals instead of evolving into something genuinely multilateral. When governments feel shut out of rule-making, they either ignore the rules or write their own. That splinters the very coordination the Accords are supposed to build.
Missing Innovation from Diverse Perspectives
Good exploration feeds on different ways of thinking. Years ago, working on satellite meteorology in West Africa, I watched local knowledge turn raw data into flood warnings that actually reached villages. Now picture a lunar base. Life support, agriculture, energy—all of it has to work in brutal conditions. Engineers from the Sahel, who coax crops from dry soil, or from Bangladesh, who manage sprawling deltas, carry insights that labs in California or Toulouse might never stumble on. When we don’t actively pull those voices into the room, we shrink our own pool of ideas.
Ethical Oversight of Space Resources
The Accords give a green light to extracting space resources—a notion that’s still legally messy. Lunar water ice, rare minerals: who benefits? Without broad participation, decisions about property rights and profit-sharing sit in the hands of a few actors. The pattern echoes old stories where resource-rich places were picked clean without local say. A genuinely global accord would weave in mechanisms for fair benefit distribution, shaped by countries that know the sting of extraction firsthand. The current text is nearly silent on this, and that silence leaves an ethical hole.
Structural Barriers to Broader Sign-up
Technical and Regulatory Asymmetry
Signing the Accords means promising to follow debris mitigation guidelines, open up scientific data, and set “safety zones” around your operations. None of that is simple. A country without a national space law framework will struggle to enforce safety zones or keep private players in check. The UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) offers guidance, but many developing nations simply don’t have enough diplomats to engage in COPUOS and bilateral talks at the same time. The Accords process asks for a level of sustained attention that overstretched foreign ministries can’t always give.
Perception of Geopolitical Alignment
Yes, the Accords are explicitly civil and non-military. But they were born from a U.S.-led push during a period of sharp strategic competition with China and Russia. Some governments worry that signing looks like picking a side, and that could endanger other relationships. China’s International Lunar Research Station (ILRS) offers a different framework, and countries like Venezuela, Pakistan, and South Africa have joined it. This split is dangerous. The Moon ought to be a place of cooperation, not another stage for bloc rivalry. A more neutral convening authority—maybe something rooted in the UN—could ease those fears.
Lack of Financial and Knowledge Support
Participation isn’t cheap. Workshops, translation, training diplomats and engineers, eventually building hardware or experiments—all of it costs money. The Accords don’t come with a capacity-building fund. Contrast that with the International Astronautical Federation’s work or the UN’s Space4SDGs programme, which actively support emerging space nations. Without a dedicated way to help countries meet their commitments, we’re essentially asking them to buy a ticket for a journey they haven’t got the fare for yet.
A Path to Meaningful Inclusion
From Bilateral to Multilateral Dialogue
Fixing the Accords starts with moving the furniture. Regular open forums, co-hosted by regional bodies like the African Union Commission or ASEAN, would let non-signatory states air their concerns and shape implementation guidelines without the immediate pressure to sign. The Artemis Accords signatories already gather annually; those meetings should rotate geographically and reserve real time for prospective partners. Over time, a secretariat independent of any single country could administer the Accords, much like the Antarctic Treaty System runs its shop.
Capacity-Building Compacts
Current signatories ought to commit to technology transfer, training, and seed funding for new partners. This isn’t charity—it’s an investment in a stable lunar ecosystem. Nigeria’s earth observation satellite experience, for example, could be pointed toward lunar mapping if paired with deep-space communication infrastructure. Brazil’s biofuels know-how might shape closed-loop life support. Twinning programmes that link established agencies with emerging ones would build capability on both sides. The Accords need a formalised mechanism for these compacts, with targets you can actually measure.
Clarifying Resource Governance
The section on space resources is short and permissive. To pull in nations wary of a free-for-all, the Accords have to grow. I’d propose a working group on lunar resource equity, open to all UN member states, to develop guidelines on benefit-sharing, environmental stewardship, and heritage protection before large-scale extraction kicks off. This wouldn’t freeze innovation; it would make sure innovation lines up with the Outer Space Treaty’s promise that exploration be “for the benefit of all countries.” With that clarity, signing becomes an ethical choice, not just a tactical one.
Amplifying Voices from the Global South
Leadership rosters send a signal. Right now, the Accords steering group leans heavily toward early signatories from high-income countries. Rotating co-chairs from Africa, Latin America, and South Asia would telegraph genuine inclusivity. And public outreach matters. Campaigns in multiple languages—not just English—can strip away the mystery. When I talk to students in Kano or Nairobi, they don’t ask about treaty clauses; they ask how they can take part. We need to connect these legal texts to human faces, so a lunar future feels like it has room for them.
FAQ: Common Questions on Artemis Accords Participation
Do the Artemis Accords replace the Outer Space Treaty?
No, they don’t. The Accords are meant to put the principles of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty into practice. That treaty remains the bedrock of international space law. Signatories explicitly restate their commitment to it. The Accords add operational detail for the Artemis programme, but they can’t override or contradict the Treaty’s rules.
Can a country join the Artemis Accords if it has no space program?
Technically, yes. Any state that wants to commit to the principles is welcome. But the practical side—regulating private space actors, ensuring debris mitigation—means countries without space governance infrastructure may find it tough to comply. That’s exactly why capacity-building support is the missing piece for true universality.
How do the Artemis Accords address the extraction of space resources?
The Accords say that extracting and using space resources—lunar water, minerals—can happen in a way consistent with the Outer Space Treaty. They stress that such activities shouldn’t amount to national appropriation and should avoid harmful interference. Still, critics point out the Accords lack detailed provisions on equitable benefit sharing, leaving a big grey area that broader participation could help sort out.
What is the difference between the Artemis Accords and China’s ILRS initiative?
The Artemis Accords are a set of principles for civil lunar exploration led by the United States, with over 35 signatories. China’s International Lunar Research Station (ILRS) is a separate push to build a lunar base, with its own partner nations. Both aim for a lunar presence, but they operate under different frameworks and political contexts, which underlines the need for a unified, inclusive approach to stop space governance from fragmenting.
Conclusion: A Shared Sky Demands Shared Rules
The Artemis Accords are a gutsy move to codify norms for humanity’s next chapter off-world. But guts need to be matched by reach. As an astrophysicist and a daughter of the developing world, I think the Moon’s story should be told in many languages, rooted in many histories. Broader participation isn’t a diplomatic flourish—it’s the foundation for lasting stability, fresh ideas, and ethical clarity in how we reach for the stars. The invitation is on the table. Now we have to make that table accessible to everyone who wants to explore in peace.