Outer space is no longer a distant backdrop to terrestrial politics. It has become a tightly coupled extension of critical infrastructure, military power and economic life. Navigation, communications, financial timing, intelligence, climate observation and disaster response all depend on orbital systems. At the same time, more states and private actors are launching hardware into crowded orbits, experimenting with dual use technologies and testing counterspace capabilities. The result is a structural security dilemma in which measures taken in the name of protection appear as threats to others, and where the margin for miscalculation is shrinking.
The classical security dilemma assumes that states operate under uncertainty about others’ intentions, that many capabilities are dual use and that attempts to increase security can produce the opposite effect. Outer space satisfies all three conditions, but in a more acute form. The opacity of purpose is greater. Distinguishing offensive from defensive systems is harder. The speed at which effects propagate is faster, and the potential externalities of misjudgment are global rather than regional. These characteristics make space a particularly unforgiving environment for traditional deterrence games, yet strategic thinking has not fully caught up with this reality.
The first layer of the modern space security dilemma lies in the basic physics of satellites and their uses. Orbital platforms that provide communication, navigation, missile warning or earth observation are indispensable for both civilian and military functions. There is no simple way to design a reconnaissance satellite that cannot also support targeting, or a communication satellite that cannot carry military traffic. From the perspective of a rival, every new constellation alters the balance of visibility and control, even when officially justified as commercial or scientific. When one state fields a dense network of low earth orbit communication satellites that can route around damage and jamming, others do not see only better internet access. They see a resilient command and control backbone that could support military operations even under attack.
At the same time, the tools developed to manage congestion and maintain safety often appear indistinguishable from tools that could disable or manipulate other objects in orbit. A satellite with a robotic arm can remove debris but can also grapple an active platform. A spacecraft able to perform close proximity operations is necessary for inspection, servicing and assembly but can just as easily rehearse hostile approaches. The security dilemma emerges from this intrinsic ambiguity. Even if designers imagine benign uses, strategists and intelligence analysts in other capitals cannot assume benign intent, especially when relations are already strained.
Commercialisation intensifies this ambiguity. For most of the space age, governments owned and operated the decisive systems. Today, private constellations provide internet connectivity, remote sensing, global maritime and aviation tracking and a rising share of position, navigation and timing services. Military organisations lease capacity or integrate commercial feeds into their command networks. This makes sense from a cost and innovation standpoint. It also creates entanglement. An attack on a commercial network for economic leverage will be perceived, at least in part, as an attack on national security. Conversely, a state that attempts to degrade an adversary’s military resilience may feel compelled to target privately owned systems that support that resilience.
This fusion of public and private interests reflects a deeper structural shift. Space is no longer a club of two superpowers plus a few followers. Emerging space nations in Asia, the Middle East, Africa and Latin America are adding their own satellites and small launch capabilities. The entry of new actors diversifies the ecosystem, which is positive for access and innovation, but it further complicates security calculations. Some newcomers seek prestige and basic services, while others see space capabilities as a way to offset conventional disadvantages. Established powers worry less about individual small satellites than about the cumulative effect of many new hands on the orbital steering wheel.
Alongside this proliferation, states have quietly invested in counterspace technologies. Kinetic anti satellite tests by several countries have demonstrated the capacity to physically destroy satellites. Non kinetic methods, such as uplink and downlink jamming, spoofing of navigation signals, cyber intrusion into ground segments and electronic interference from aircraft or ships, are now part of most major militaries’ toolkits. In theory, these capabilities are developed for deterrence. In practice, they feed a spiral of suspicion. If one state fields an anti satellite system to defend itself against coercion, others feel pressed to match or outpace it. Each step taken in the name of security appears to others as preparation for more assertive options.
The nuclear dimension adds a further layer of danger. Strategic early warning, targeting and command systems depend heavily on satellites. Optical and infrared sensors monitor missile launches. Communication satellites connect national command authorities to deployed forces and nuclear forces. If those systems are disrupted, states may lose confidence in their ability to detect or respond to attacks. That prospect can have two opposite effects. It can increase incentives to avoid actions that might be misinterpreted. It can also drive states to adopt more hair trigger postures on the assumption that their space support may not be available when most needed. A scenario in which a cyber attack or kinetic test in orbit is misread as preparation for a disabling first strike is not far fetched. The security dilemma here is less about space as a target and more about space as a conduit for nuclear risk.
In parallel, a quieter struggle is unfolding in the cyber domain. Many satellites still operate with outdated software, limited encryption and ground segments that were designed when the threat model was far more benign. Adversaries have learned to exploit these weaknesses. Cyber operations can take over satellite control, alter data, inject false signals or simply shut systems down. Unlike kinetic attacks, these intrusions do not produce visible debris and can be difficult to attribute with confidence. This makes them attractive tools for states that wish to probe or demonstrate capability without crossing visible red lines. Unfortunately, their very invisibility deepens mistrust. States cannot be sure whether glitches in their systems result from benign faults, criminal activity or state sponsored intrusion. Answers are usually delayed, hedged and politically contested.
Asymmetric actors can exploit these same tools. Non state groups now have access to cyber capabilities, open source intelligence, inexpensive jamming equipment and, in some cases, commercially provided satellite imagery. They cannot match states in scale or sophistication, but they can create localised disruption or deliver sensitive data to state patrons. Their presence adds noise to the strategic picture. A rival state accused of interference can always claim that non state actors are responsible. Governments responding to incidents must decide whether to accept such denials or to treat the incident as part of a broader pattern of state behaviour. Every unresolved episode leaves a residue of suspicion.
The familiar legal framework has not kept pace with these intertwined developments. The Outer Space Treaty prohibits placing nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction in orbit and declares space to be used for peaceful purposes by all. It does not, however, define many of the behaviours that now generate friction. It says nothing precise about co orbital inspection, cyber attacks, blinding of sensors or temporary denial of services. Soft law instruments and voluntary guidelines attempt to fill the gaps, but they have no strong enforcement mechanism and are interpreted differently across capitals. Meanwhile, national doctrines increasingly describe space as a warfighting domain and emphasise preparation for conflict in orbit. This gap between professed principles and operational planning further erodes confidence.
Governance challenges are not only international. Within states, responsibilities are fragmented between defence ministries, space agencies, communications regulators, foreign ministries, intelligence organisations and commercial regulators. Each has its own priorities and threat perceptions. Military planners worry about survivability and redundancy. Civilian agencies focus on safety, debris mitigation and long term access. Commercial regulators aim to encourage investment and innovation while preserving basic norms. Without strong coordinating structures, these agendas can work at cross purposes. The state projects mixed signals externally because it lacks coherence internally. Rivals interpret mixed signals as signs of hidden motives, which reinforces the spiral of mistrust.
Geopolitical competition gives all of this a sharper edge. Relations between the United States, China and Russia in particular are increasingly framed in zero sum terms across domains. Space is no exception. American analysts watch Chinese military civil fusion in space with concern, noting the integration of satellite networks with doctrines for reconnaissance strike and anti access operations. Chinese analysts, in turn, view the establishment of a separate United States Space Force, the deployment of experimental inspector satellites and the use of commercial constellations in support of allied operations as evidence that Washington seeks orbital dominance. Russian behaviour has taken on a more disruptive character, with experiments that appear designed to test the limits of others’ tolerance and to signal a willingness to use counterspace tools if pressed.
Middle powers and regional actors are drawn into this dynamic. India’s anti satellite test in 2019 was intended in part to signal that it would not accept a permanently subordinate position in space related capabilities. Japan, South Korea, Australia and others are integrating more space assets into their defence architectures in response to regional threats. European states are trying to balance strategic autonomy with alliance commitments, while also positioning themselves as champions of responsible behaviour. The diffusion of capacity ensures that no single bilateral relationship can be managed in isolation. A decision by one actor to pursue a particular technology or doctrine reverberates across ecosystems of partners, rivals and suppliers.
The security dilemma in space has not yet produced full blown arms racing, but the structural conditions for such a race are present. Costs remain high for many capabilities, which slows the pace of accumulation. However, cost curves are changing. Small satellites, responsive launch vehicles and advances in on orbit servicing are making it cheaper to deploy, reposition and replace systems. The barrier to entry is falling for some classes of counterspace technology. As that happens, doctrines and expectations shaped by a more static environment may prove dangerously out of date.
Mitigating these dynamics is difficult but not impossible. Successful mitigation does not require a utopian end to all military uses of space. It requires reducing the degree to which reasonable defensive measures appear as offensive preparations and lowering the likelihood that incidents will be misinterpreted or escalated.
Transparency is the most immediate tool. States can publish more detailed information on their space doctrines, their understanding of hostile acts in orbit and their thresholds for response. They can notify others in advance of high risk manoeuvres or tests, including non destructive exercises. Open data on orbits and manoeuvres, collected by independent tracking networks and shared widely, can make it harder to conceal threatening behaviour while helping to clear up benign anomalies. None of this will eliminate suspicion, but it can thicken the factual ground on which assessments are made.
Norms against debris generating tests offer another area where progress is possible. Several countries have already announced unilateral moratoria on destructive anti satellite testing that produces long lived fragments. Turning this emerging practice into a widely observed expectation would not remove counterspace capabilities from arsenals, but it would signal a shared interest in preserving the orbital environment. Over time, non debris generating methods of demonstration and deterrence could become standard, reducing the environmental damage of competition even if the competition itself persists.
Cyber security for space systems needs to move from an afterthought to a design principle. Licensing authorities can require minimum cyber standards for satellites operating under their jurisdiction. These standards should cover encryption, access control, patching practices and incident reporting. Industry consortia can develop shared guidelines and testing protocols. International bodies can facilitate information sharing about threats and vulnerabilities specific to orbital systems. While no system can be perfectly secure, raising the baseline would make opportunistic attacks more difficult and increase the political cost of state sponsored operations.
Managing the security implications of commercialisation requires new kinds of partnership. Governments rely on private operators, so they must give them clear expectations and support. This includes integrating commercial providers into national contingency planning, clarifying when and how the state will respond to attacks on commercial systems and ensuring that contractual arrangements reflect the strategic value of services. Private firms, for their part, need to recognise that their choices about architecture, routing and redundancy can have national and even international security implications. The old model, where commercial decisions were treated as separate from strategic considerations, is no longer tenable.
Crisis communication is another neglected piece. During the Cold War, direct hotlines and shared understandings of escalation helped to manage nuclear risks. No equivalent framework exists for space. Establishing dedicated communication channels for incidents that involve orbital assets would not require sweeping treaties. It would require political recognition that misunderstandings in space can have consequences on earth, including in nuclear decision making. Regular exercises and simulations involving diplomats, military officers, technical experts and commercial representatives could build habits of cooperation that would prove invaluable when real incidents occur.
Ultimately, the deepest mitigation efforts must address not only mechanisms but mindsets. As long as major powers view space primarily as a high ground to be held against rivals, every innovation will be interpreted as a step toward dominance. A more sustainable outlook would treat space first as a critical global infrastructure whose fragility threatens all and only second as a domain for strategic competition. That shift does not imply naivety. It recognises that some interests can be pursued only collectively, because the system fails if any one actor undermines it too badly.
The modern security dilemma in space is therefore not simply about who controls which satellites. It is about whether states allow suspicion, fragmented governance and short term advantage to govern the evolution of a domain that their own societies depend upon for basic functioning. If policy continues on its current path, the risk is not an immediate war in orbit but a slow accumulation of vulnerabilities, a gradual decay of trust and a higher probability that a crisis elsewhere will spill into a domain that is ill prepared to absorb shocks. If, instead, states can accept limited self restraint in exchange for greater predictability and shared resilience, space can remain a contested yet usable environment rather than a silent reservoir of risk.
The choice is not abstract. It is being made, piece by piece, through decisions about how to design satellites, how to interpret rivals’ programs, how to involve commercial actors and how to respond to incidents. Seeing those decisions through the lens of the security dilemma helps to explain why well intentioned measures can backfire. It also points toward the kind of sober, incremental cooperation that can keep the worst outcomes at bay while the world adjusts to life under an increasingly crowded sky.
