It was 1964 when Gerhard Pistor decided to do something unusual. He walked into a travel agency in Vienna and demanded a flight ticket to the Moon. You might expect the agent to suppress a chuckle and politely dismiss him. But he didn’t. Instead, the request was forwarded to Pan Am.

Interestingly, Pan Am took it seriously. The airline replied to Pistor, noting that the first flight was anticipated by the year 2000. Seeing the potential for marketing, they announced a free reservation list for lunar flights. Whether it was seen as a light-hearted stunt or a genuine promise, people signed up. After the Apollo 11 mission in 1969, enthusiasm surged. By 1971, the list held 93,000 names from nearly 100 countries.

Look past the clever marketing and this story hints at the era’s technological optimism. It wasn’t just that the Moon captured the imagination, it always had. It was that people genuinely believed they would fly there in their lifetimes. And why wouldn’t they? The Wright brothers had flown at the turn of the century; commercial transatlantic flights followed just 40 years later. With Neil Armstrong’s boot print fresh in the dust, commercial lunar flights seemed like the logical next step.

Yet, here we are in 2025, grounded. Why? The political reason is clear: the US won the race, the Cold War ended, and the incentive to spend billions evaporated. But why didn’t public opinion demand more?

Ideally, popularity should drive policy, but in spaceflight, it rarely does. Even during the Apollo peak, 45% to 60% of Americans felt the government was spending too much on space, arguing those funds belonged in education or healthcare. The Cold War provided the political cover to ignore this opposition. The Space Race was a quest for scientific and military dominance, an ideological battle that filtered down to the masses as national pride. Once the USSR faltered, the gears of that political machine ground to a halt. The novelty wore off.

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For over five decades, humans have not returned. The reasoning is simple. There is no business model here. Scientific discovery alone cannot sustain human spaceflight. Economic or military reasons are a necessity. If science is the only goal, uncrewed rovers are safer, cheaper, and more efficient. The Apollo program produced various technology breakthroughs that then diffused throughout the economy and created real value. Things like foam beds coming out of spacecraft seats or camera-on-a-chip revolutionising smartphones. But the possibility of incidental spin-offs alone cannot build political will.

Theorists point to the Moon as a gravity well for Mars launches or a source of ice for rocket fuel. Government agencies will someday attempt these milestones. Until they do and find meaningful economic and military value, we will not see organic human activity there.

In recent times, the silence is breaking. For those of you following the news cycles, conversations of lunar human spaceflight have ramped up again. After a 50-year pause, the emergence of China as a credible space power has reignited the competition. China has announced its intentions to land its taikonauts on the Moon. The US has a successor to the Apollo program, called the Artemis program. It intends to land astronauts on the Moon again in the next few years. India has plans for a future Chandrayaan mission to take Indians to the Moon. We live in interesting times.

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Where our previous post explored the purpose of satellite internet, this one will begin to chart how the technology itself functions. Its architecture is broadly divided into two domains: one on the ground and another in space. The space segment, as the name implies, is the realm of the satellites themselves.

The Space Segment: Satellites Up Close

Satellites are the most capital-intensive component of this celestial network. They are equipped with communication payloads—antennas and transponders—tasked with receiving and transmitting data. Built for endurance, these satellites must withstand the harsh environment of space for their entire service life, which can range from five to twenty years. Given that post-launch repairs are next to impossible, a meticulous deployment plan is crucial. This plan hinges on fundamental choices like the satellite's orbital altitude, which in turn dictates the design of its antennas and overall capabilities.

A Tale of Three Orbits: GEO, MEO, and LEO

Satellites are deployed into specific orbital altitudes, which are broadly categorised into three main types: Geostationary Orbit (GEO), Medium Earth Orbit (MEO), and Low Earth Orbit (LEO).

Geostationary Orbit (GEO)

Perched at a precise altitude of 35,786 km directly above the equator, a GEO satellite's orbital period matches the Earth's rotation. This perfect synchronisation makes it appear stationary from the ground, a fixed point in the sky.

The primary advantage of this high altitude is the immense coverage area. A single GEO satellite can blanket nearly a third of the Earth's surface, making it ideal for broad, regional coverage. A prime example is Viasat's Global Xpress (GX) system, which utilises a fleet of geosynchronous orbit (GEO) satellites for global reach.

GEO satellites often operate as simple "bent-pipes." They receive a signal from a ground station, amplify it, and relay it back down to another location without any data processing. This simplicity means the satellite itself has less complex equipment, with most of the heavy lifting handled by the ground stations.

However, GEO's advantages are also the source of its two major drawbacks: size and latency. To communicate effectively across such vast distances, GEO satellites need large antennas and powerful transmitters, making them bulky—often the size of a school bus. Launching these heavyweights into such a high orbit is a costly affair.

The most significant limitation, however, is propagation latency. The sheer distance results in a noticeable signal delay, making GEO satellites unsuitable for time-sensitive applications like video conferencing, online gaming, or real-time financial transactions where low latency is the benchmark.

Medium Earth Orbit (MEO)

MEO satellites occupy the middle ground, orbiting at altitudes between 2,000 km and 35,786 km. They offer a compromise between the vast coverage of GEO and the low latency of LEO.

Their lower altitude means a smaller coverage area per satellite, necessitating a larger constellation to achieve global service. The O3b constellation, for instance, uses 20 MEO satellites to provide coverage across most of the globe, excluding the polar regions. While their latency is lower than GEO, it is still a significant consideration for real-time applications. These car-sized satellites are still relatively heavy and also expensive to launch.

Low Earth Orbit (LEO)

Flying at altitudes below 2,000 km, LEO satellites are much closer to Earth. This proximity is their defining advantage, resulting in very low latency comparable to that of terrestrial fibre-optic networks. Their smaller size, often no bigger than a large table. They are packed with more advanced technology for on-board processing, where data can be managed and routed directly on the satellite.

Their compact nature also drastically reduces launch costs, as dozens can be deployed in a single mission. The trade-off for this low altitude is a much smaller coverage area. A single LEO satellite's footprint might only cover a large metropolitan area.

To provide continuous global coverage, LEO systems rely on "megaconstellations" comprising hundreds or even thousands of satellites. Starlink, for example, already has over 7,000 satellites in orbit and plans for tens of thousands more. These megaconstellations represent the cutting edge of satellite internet technology, attracting immense interest and investment from both industry and governments.

Given their growing dominance and transformative potential, our focus will shift to these LEO satellite internet constellations in the following posts.

This is the second post in a series on Satellite Internet. To learn more about this topic, read my recent paper: takshashila.org.in/research/satellite-internet-explained

Where ground internet falls short

In the absence of alternatives, when the ground-based networks fail, the digital economy can grind to a halt. This is evident in various situations.

Far-flung, sparsely populated regions

Ground-based networks need local physical infrastructure. Every cell site needs to be connected to the broader internet backhaul via cables or microwave antennas. If you want to bring internet to a previously unconnected town, you need substantial capital investments. Cost-benefit calculations favour densely populated cities. They do not favour sparsely populated, remote regions. This is one of the main reasons for the digital divide, with remote and often underdeveloped regions simply lacking affordable internet connectivity.

Transient locations

This limitation also applies for temporary sites, such as short-term settlements and construction zones. Setting up of ground-based networks in these locations will take considerable time and does not make commercial sense for a temporary use case.

Disasters and emergencies

Cell towers are highly vulnerable during cyclones, floods, landslides and earthquakes. As a result, internet services go down when they are most needed.

Network overruns

Even when the infrastructure is unaffected, disasters and other emergencies trigger a sharp surge in usage as people try to reach their loved ones. The ground-based internet networks are designed for an average traffic levels. The resulting network congestion can disrupt internet services.

Cue satellite internet

It is in circumstances such as these that satellite internet excels in. Satellite internet is inherently global in its coverage. It is just as available in remote, sparsely populated regions as it is in urban centres. Also, these services are frictionless and allow for rapid deployment given their plug-and-play nature. This makes it ideal for digital nomads, travellers needing in-flight connectivity and temporary construction sites.

When Hurricane Harvey hit the Texas coast in 2017, more than 70% of the cell towers were disabled. Over two lakh households lost internet connectivity. Emergency response and relief efforts were carried out using Viasat's satellite internet services. Satellite internet has also proven indispensable in the Russia-Ukraine war. It is often used in geographically isolated conflict zones, including by the Indian army at the Siachen Glacier.

There are also instances where states have been unable to regulate its proliferation and use. Indian security forces seized satellite internet devices from militant groups in Manipur, close to the border. In another such incident, starlink devices were confiscated during a drug bust in the Andaman Sea, highlighting illegal use.

Internet shutdowns around the world are less effective today thanks to satellite internet. Myanmar civil war features large-scale terrestrial internet shutdowns. People are using Starlink dishes smuggled across the border from Thailand. Tellingly, Starlink is not legally available in either country.

A similar dynamic unfolded in war-torn Sudan. Network operators were shut down and the people turned to Starlink to remain connected to the rest of the world. Bolivians have likewise used Starlink, despite its ban, to overcome spotty internet from poor terrestrial infrastructure.

We are likely just beginning to see the various ways that satellite internet will be used. It presents significant opportunities alongside the considerable risks. At the national level, control over satellite internet infrastructure will translate to strategic advantages and therefore adds to the national power and influence.

This is the first post in a series on Satellite Internet. To learn more about this topic, read my recent paper: takshashila.org.in/research/satellite-internet-explained

This newsletter is curated by Adya Madhavan.

Antarikshmatters: Satellites in the Crosshairs

— Aditya Ramanathan

In 1986, the American historian John Lewis Gaddis published a paper titled The Long Peace. Writing in the waning days of the Cold War, Gaddis turned his attention to the four prior decades - and asked a big question: what explained the absence of major war between the superpowers? In searching for answers, Gaddis doffed his hat at the usual suspects like bipolarity in the international system, and nuclear weapons.

Then he turned his attention to what he called the ‘reconnaissance revolution’.

Here, Gaddis argued that overflight by satellites had afforded the superpowers much greater transparency and insight into each other's military movements than had ever been the case before. As he put it:

“The effect has been to give each side a far more accurate view of the other's military capabilities-and, to some degree, economic capabilities as well-than could have been provided by an entire phalanx of the best spies in the long history of espionage. The resulting intelligence does not rule out altogether the possibility of surprise attack, but it does render it far less likely, at least as far as the superpowers are concerned.”

Gaddis also acknowledged the role satellite reconnaissance had played in nuclear arms control. Spies in orbit had allowed both superpowers to “trust but verify”, as Ronald Raegan’s favourite Russian proverb went. In short, Gaddis argued, reconnaissance satellites had made military surprise harder to achieve and arms control agreements easier to sustain.

Breaching the Sanctuary

What Gaddis left unexamined was whether the reconnaissance revolution would hold once shots were fired in anger. In 1986, there was good reason to think low Earth orbit (LEO) assets were vulnerable to attack from a variety of antisatellite (ASAT) weapons that both the US and USSR had tested over years. There were also far fewer satellites in orbit in 1986 than today, meaning the debris from kinetic strikes was a manageable problem. More importantly, satellites were expensive, large in size, and few in number. This meant ASATs enjoyed the benefits of a small target set and favourable exchange ratios.

In the years since Gaddis’ paper, one might have expected spacefaring states would adapt to the realities of ASATs. But the relaxation of great power tensions in the first twenty years after 1986 meant there was little urgency.

That changed around 2007 when China conducted a destructive direct ascent (DA) ASAT missile test. This triggered a series of destructive tests from the US, India and Russia. Since 2007, we’ve also seen the development of other counterspace capabilities, from dazzling lasers to rendezvous and proximity operations (RPOs).

The most significant response to these counterspace capabilities has been the idea of proliferated constellations - large numbers of inexpensive and replaceable satellites. Some constellations predate this idea. For instance, global navigation satellite systems (GNSS) consist of 24-45 satellites, though these are neither cheap nor terribly expendable. However, proliferated constellations are most epitomized by satellite internet systems such as Starlink as well as projects that envision hundreds of reconnaissance satellites.

It’s possible to argue proliferated constellations are already working. At least one of the reasons why Russia has not attacked Starlink satellites (which are providing vital communications support to the Ukrainian military), is that tools like DA-ASATs are impractical against hundreds or thousands of orbital craft.

Proliferation May Not Equal Protection

However, it may be reasonable to expect a new round of countermeasures against proliferated constellations. In a 2024 paper, Ivan Oelrich, Paul van Hooft and Stephen Biddle argued that states can develop effective countermeasures against proliferated reconnaissance constellations.

One, they pointed out that DA-ASAT missiles still enjoy a favourable exchange ratio against satellites, even most small, cheap ones. Two, they acknowledge that most effective countermeasures would be terrestrial and non-kinetic, primarily involving dazzling and jamming.

Let’s start with dazzling. Terrestrial lasers of this sort already exist in limited numbers. The authors argue that relatively low-powered lasers can perform the job of temporarily disabling lenses and other sensors on adversary satellites. While the satellites will otherwise remain functional, they can be stopped from performing some key tasks.

Of course, such lasers are likely to be met with a response from spacefaring states. As the authors argue:

“Once ASAT lasers are deployed, military satellite designers will incorporate protection that will seriously degrade laser effectiveness, such as hardening, shielding, concealment, and deception. For example, if satellites know the location of fixed lasers (as they will once the laser is used), then satellites could turn vulnerable solar panels edge-on toward the laser. Satellite bodies could be protected with highly reflective, heat tolerant material. Sensors and antennas might need to be covered or turned away, blinding or silencing the satellite”.

The downside from these measures is that they add to the weight, complexity and cost of satellites. Another option for spacefarers is to simply increase the number of satellites surveilling an area at any particular time, thus overwhelming terrestrial dazzlers. However, given that these satellites are likely to be in LEO, such constellations are likely to require thousands of orbiters.

The authors also consider synthetic aperture radar (SAR) satellites. These would require jamming rather than dazzling. The authors calculate that a truck carrying a jammer with a power of just a few hundred watts, can effectively jam an SAR satellite. Since the sources of jamming are easier to identify, the jammers would have to shoot-and-scoot, turning off their devices and moving periodically, perhaps handing over the task to another truck-mounted jammer..

While the authors restrict themselves to considering reconnaissance satellites and don’t claim lasers and jammers will render satellites useless, their paper does suggest that militaries have an incentive to invest in existing technology to develop effective non-kinetic ASAT solutions. The effect of this is likely to be less transparent battlefields as well as greater contestation in peacetime, as states seek to prevent each other from gaining useful pattern-of-life information. The reconnaissance revolution has always had its discontents. They may soon have reason to cheer.

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Technopolitik: The Grok Controversy: Legal Implications and Debates on AI Liability

— Anwesha Sen

The recent furore surrounding Grok, a generative AI chatbot integrated into X (formerly known as Twitter), has brought back significant discussions regarding the legal landscape for AI chatbots in intermediary platforms, particularly in relation to the safe harbour provision, liability issues, and the application of Section 67 of the Information Technology (IT) Act in India to the forefront.

Grok is designed to interact with users, answer questions, and provide helpful recommendations, all within the platform. While it aims to enhance user experience, its integration has sparked considerable controversy due to concerns over its responses and the potential spread of misinformation. Users and legal bodies have raised alarms about the chatbot's ability to generate content in profane language, which has led to proposals for legal action against the platform.

At the heart of the debate is the issue of safe harbour, a legal provision that protects platforms from liability for content generated by users or, in this case, by AI systems like Grok. Under Section 79 of the IT Act in India, platforms are generally shielded from legal responsibility for user-generated content, provided they comply with due diligence requirements. However, this protection does not apply when the platform itself is directly involved in the creation or dissemination of illegal content. As AI chatbots like Grok become more sophisticated, questions arise about whether these platforms should continue to be shielded from liability, especially when they provide a medium for potentially harmful AI-generated content.

The challenge, then, is determining whether Grok’s interactions fall under the safe harbour provision or whether it opens up a new category of liability for X and other platforms that use similar technologies. Advocates for stronger regulations argue that as AI chatbots become more pervasive and capable, they should be held accountable for the content they generate, particularly when it leads to harm or misinformation.

In India, Section 67 of the IT Act, which deals with the publishing of obscene content, is also relevant to this discussion. Section 67 outlines punishment for publishing or transmitting obscene and/or sexually inappropriate content. Obscene content is defined as content that is likely to corrupt or harm those who see, read, or hear it. Interpretation of this definition is subjective and it is unclear whether the use of profanity (which is not uncommon on social media platforms) would fall under obscene content. The question then arises whether platforms like X could be held liable under this section.

As Grok and similar technologies evolve, the need for clearer legal frameworks around AI, liability, and platform responsibility becomes ever more pressing. The outcome of the legal discussions surrounding Grok will likely set important precedents for AI-driven platforms globally.

*ChatGPT has been used to refine the language of this piece.

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This newsletter is curated by Adya Madhavan.

Antarikshmatters: Starlink Lands in India?

— Ashwin Prasad

Satellite internet made headlines in India last week when Airtel and Jio announced partnerships with SpaceX. Although details are scarce, both telecom giants will tap into their extensive retail networks to distribute Starlink terminals and assist customers with installation and setup. These arrangements provide the telcos with a new revenue stream through distribution commissions, while SpaceX gains access to the world's most populous country with many underserved regions. The partnerships also lend Starlink credibility by association with India's most well-known telecom providers. These agreements are contingent upon Starlink receiving authorisation from the Indian government to operate in the country.

Massive satellite constellations orbiting Earth enable global satellite internet coverage. SpaceX's Starlink leads this space race with over 7,000 operational satellites as of last month. This number continues to grow rapidly, giving Starlink an overwhelming advantage over competitors in both operational capacity and future potential. This explains why Jio and Airtel, despite having plans of their own to provide satellite internet in the future are making use of this opportunity with Starlink now.

These deals appear to be imbalanced, leaning in favour of Starlink in the short term. However, given the duopolistic nature of the Indian telecom market, this makes business sense. Once Airtel committed to working with SpaceX, Jio had little choice but to follow suit or risk ceding ground to its competitor in a potentially transformative market segment.

These partnerships likely represent just the first step toward broader collaboration in satellite internet, where opportunities abound. Currently, Airtel and Reliance will sell Starlink terminals—equipment similar to direct-to-home satellite TV systems, consisting of an antenna and WiFi router. The future will bring a lot more possibilities. SpaceX has already tested direct-to-cell services that could become operational within months.

As this technology evolves, its potential reach and penetration are extraordinary. Internet connectivity is fundamental to our modern world, enabling countless integrated capabilities and supporting global commerce and economies. Demand will only increase. Policymakers and stakeholders must understand satellite internet's importance and potential.

In upcoming articles, I will explain how this technology works and why it matters.

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Technopolitik: Empanelment, Subsidies, and AI Compute: Is India’s Strategy Future-Proof?

— Rijesh Panicker

The Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology (MeitY) recently announced the launch of a continuous empanelment process for AI cloud service providers, which allows firms to apply on an ongoing basis to supply GPUs and related AI compute services. This follows the announced launch of the GPU access portal, after all selected bidders, including L2 and L3 bidders, agreed to match the L1 bid price for compute services.

Against the originally planned 10,000 GPUs, now close to 19,000 GPUs will be made available, of which nearly 14,000 will be Nvidia (12,800 H100 and 1480 H200) and the rest a mix of chips from AMD, Intel, and AWS.The bidder’s have also offered significant discounts to market prices, ranging from 11% - 80% of market price, depending on the chip and module.

The government’s move to use private providers of GPU and cloud compute, instead of procuring GPUs directly, supports the development of India based GPU and compute service providers. In addition, the continuous empanellment process (if done well), could prevent cartelisation amongst the service providers and allow newer providers to come into the market.

At the same time, it is worth asking if the L1 pricing is sensible and sustainable in the long run? First,a pure lowest cost (L1) structure, that does not account for actual operational performance, creates incentives for the providers to manage compute performance downwards in an attempt to reduce replacement capital expenditure.

Second, the fact that all of the providers agreed to the lowest cost (at significant discount to market) could be a sign of current low private market demand for GPU compute in India, which may seem a good reason for the government to step in. In the long run however, the ongoing subsidies being offered by the government (upto 40%) may perversely cap private demand, as consumers restrict their use of GPUs to the subsidised amounts. Back of the envelope calculations show that the cost of training a Llama3.3 (about 39.3 million GPU hours; Rs. 390 Cr) or a Grok3 (45.6 million GPU hours; Rs. 456 Cr) will cost the government about Rs.157 Cr and Rs.180 Cr respectively in subsidy, while training a true reasoning model like OpenAI’s o3 may cost much larger amounts. Should we really subsidise private companies to build foundational AI models at these costs?

Finally, demand for GPUs globally is likely to go up, driven by large AI infrastructure projects like InvestAI in the EU, which is looking to invest 20 billion euros in 4 AI gigafactories (100,000 chips each) or OpenAI’s Stargate project, which is looking to invest $100 billion this year and a total of $500 billion to build AI datacenters across the US. In addition, with the restrictions under the AI chip diffusion framework, supply of advanced AI chips are likely to go down. As a result, we are either going to see a gap in supply or significantly higher prices in the future.

India’s choice of building it’s sovereign compute infrastructure may seem like a good move in the short term - it provides ownership of our own compute and supports the development of an India based AI IaaS (Infra as a Service) market. However, an interesting and perhaps more robust alternative, would have been to use the 4,500 Cr allocated to compute as a co-financing mechanism, for building compute infrastructure.

Private markets should be allowed to function freely and democratising access to academia, researchers and others can be done through other means. In the long run, this will give us the best means to keeping pace with the future. This would also provide a simple and elegant solution for what happens after the IndiaAI mission sunsets after four years.

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We have news: the Curated section will soon be moving to a space of its own, and starting this week, we’ll be publishing a new segment on China’s tech developments!

Antarikshmatters: Space Stations… What Are They Good For?

— Aditya Ramanathan

On 21 January, two crew members from the Tiangong space station completed a remarkable 8.5 hour space walk during which they completed multiple tasks including installing devices that provide protection from orbital debris. The taikonats’ latest extravehicular activity was slightly shorter than the extended walk they conducted in December that lasted more than nine hours, and set a world record.

The Tiangong’s latest orbital feats stand in contrast to the conditions their counterparts encounter on the International Space Station (ISS) where faulty suits have hampered space walks. In June of 2024, NASA suspended all space walks after ISS astronauts discovered a coolant leak. EVAs are set to resume again sometime this year.

The ISS is scheduled to be decommissioned in 2030 and US plans for commercial space stations remain uncertain. The result of this is that China’s dominance of low Earth orbit (LEO) habitation is likely to increase, at least in the short term. These developments have implications for India’s own space station ambitions in the coming years.

They also prompt a more basic question: what are space stations for?

Castles in the Sky?

The ISS is fated to meet a fiery end. To decommission it, NASA plans to use a SpaceX capsule to drag the largest object in space into the upper atmosphere where it will burn up and disintegrate.

What comes next? NASA’s commercial low Earth orbit destinations (CLDs) programme provides some financing to private projects for space stations. The agency’s stated goal is:

“to be one of many customers in a robust commercial marketplace in low Earth orbit where in-orbit destinations as well as cargo and crew transportation, are available as services to the agency.”

The CLD programme supports three projects: Axiom’s space station, which is slated to grow as a multi-module segment of the ISS, that will eventually separate from the parent structure. Then there’s Starlab’s no-frills single-module station that can house about four people. The most ambitious of these is Blue Origin’s much-troubled Orbital Reef, which is meant to house at least 10 people. Each of these projects face formidable technological challenges ranging from launch vehicles to the actual construction and maintenance of a long-term orbital habitat that can safely sustain humans for years.

These commercial undertakings from the US will be joined by a more traditional counterpart from a national space agency: India’s own planned Bharatiya Antariksha Station (BAS), which ISRO is scheduled to make operational in 2035.

While ISRO remains characteristically tight-lipped about the details of the BAS, its thinking does seem to have evolved. In 2019, then ISRO chief K. Sivan envisaged a limited programme meant to sustain the Gaganyaan orbital space vehicle programme and enable a few microgravity experiments. The space station was to be a small module and there was little talk of international cooperation.

Plans for the BAS seem to have grown considerably in recent years. India’s ambitions now seem to involve a multi-module station - a goal that seems less distant after the success of ISRO’s recent SpaDex space docking mission. ISRO scientists are also emphasizing international cooperation. The BAS is to orbit at an altitude of 400-450 kilometres above median sea level, similar to the ISS. More significantly, its orbital inclination will be 51.6 degrees, very close to the 51.5 degree inclination of the ISS. ISRO has made it clear that a key motivation for this inclination is to make it much easier for capsules from other countries to dock with the BAS.

The Ideology of Continuous Presence

Space stations embody a vast range of both technological and business risks. Besides building and running the station, operators will need reliable and timely access to launch services as well as crew and cargo capsules. However, even after those challenges are overcome, the business risks remain considerable. The main customers for space stations remain governments. Most scientific research conducted in orbit is also, in some way, funded or underwritten by governments.

While Axiom and Starlab seem to be focused on taking on crews and research payloads previously hosted on the ISS, Blue Origin has called the Orbital Reef a “mixed-use business park” whose modules can also serve as hotels or perhaps even film studios.

The reality is that while NASA hopes to create a self-sustaining low Earth orbit economy, space stations are going to remain at the mercy of governments. Microgravity experiments conducted on space stations have thus far yielded modest results, and it seems unlikely private corporations will invest heavily in such experiments in the future. Only governments have the deep pockets and inter-generational patience needed to enable such experiments, in the hopes that they eventually generate scientific breakthroughs.

However, human spaceflight is not really about science. It is about economics and politics. Large projects like those for space stations generate expertise and jobs in high-technology sectors. They also serve as irrefutable evidence of a country’s technological prowess.

Partner governments in the ISS project have consciously maintained a continuous presence in the station since November of 2000. While this is a staggering achievement, it is ultimately driven by politics. The ideology of continuous human presence has its origins in remote terrestrial geographies like the Antarctic. It has since spread to low Earth orbit, where it appears to be a Chinese goal as well. NASA’s Artemis programme and the China-Russia led International Lunar Research Station (ILRS) project also envisage a continuous presence on the Moon, though is likely many years away.

The politics of Earth-orbit habitation has serious implications for the BAS. Should India seek to emulate other countries and eventually attempt to maintain continuous presence in LEO? India knows it will also have to offset costs from such expensive undertakings by offering transport on Gaganyaan capsules as well as hosting international crews and payloads on the BAS. Here, the success or failure of the CLD projects will shape India’s choices. If the limited LEO market of the 2030s is saturated by commercial American space stations, India may have few commercial opportunities. However, if only some of these projects enjoy success, the BAS and Gaganyaan capsules may be well positioned to become indispensable.

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Technopolitik: Reflections on the Proposed AI Governance Guidelines

— Bharath Reddy

An Advisory Group, chaired by the Principal Scientific Advisor, has been formed to develop an ‘AI for India-Specific Regulatory Framework'. A subcommittee within this group has released a report on developing AI governance guidelines that is currently open for consultation.

The guidelines propose a light-touch interim AI governance mechanism along with the establishment of an Inter-Ministerial AI Coordination Committee and a Technical Secretariat in an advisory capacity. Here is a summary of the recommendations:

1. To implement a whole-of-government approach to AI Governance, MeitY and the Principal Scientific Adviser should establish an empowered mechanism to coordinate AI Governance.

2. To develop a systems-level understanding of India’s AI ecosystem, MeitY should establish, and administratively house, a Technical Secretariat to serve as a technical advisory body and coordination focal point for the Committee/ Group.

3. To build evidence on actual risks and to inform harm mitigation, the Technical Secretariat should establish, house, and operate an AI incident database as a repository of problems experienced in the real world that should guide responses to mitigate or avoid repeated bad outcomes.

4. To enhance transparency and governance across the AI ecosystem, the Technical Secretariat should engage the industry to drive voluntary commitments on transparency across the overall AI ecosystem and on baseline commitments for high capability/widely deployed systems.

5. The Technical Secretariat should examine the suitability of technological measures to address AI related risks.

6. Form a sub-group to work with MEITY to suggest specific measures that may be considered under the proposed legislation like Digital India Act (DIA) to strengthen and harmonise the legal framework, regulatory and technical capacity and the adjudicatory set-up for the digital industries to ensure effective grievance redressal and ease of doing business.

While the Takshashila Institution will be submitting detailed feedback on these guidelines, here is our initial analysis projecting the outcomes if these guidelines are implemented.

1. The AI governance outcomes will largely depend on the other government stakeholders' alignment with the inter-ministerial committees's findings. However, too many influential stakeholders might have differing interests, including relevant ministries, union government departments and sectoral regulators. Therefore, this needs to be an empowered nodal agency to resolve disputes among these stakeholders rather than a coordination committee. Without such an empowered nodal agency, the whole-of-government approach for a common roadmap could lead to adopting diluted and minimal AI governance standards and guidelines.
   
   

2. The incident database and voluntary commitments are welcome, light-touch interim measures that encourage transparency and disclosure while avoiding overly burdensome requirements that could hinder innovation. However, since both are voluntary, active engagement and participation with stakeholders are needed to ensure adoption.

3. One of the main recommendations in the guidelines is to provide input on the proposed Digital India Act. As this group is led by the PSA, the successful adoption of the recommendations will depend on MeitY's cooperation. MeitY’s overall roles will include advisory functions, policy-making, and policy implementation as part of the IndiaAI mission – something Osborne and Plastrik would disapprove of. Ideally, rowing and steering roles must be decoupled.

The deadline for submitting feedback on the recommendations is 27 February 2025. If you have any thoughts on the subject, do consider responding to the consultation.

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The details aren’t fully clear as of this writing, but according to a White House statement, India has signed the Artemis Accords, a US-led framework for lunar governance. India’s acceptance of Artemis is a significant outcome of an extraordinary state visit to the US by Prime Minister Narendra Modi that has already seen multiple deals on high-technology and defence cooperation. 

News of the signature will undoubtedly surprise or dismay some in India. But neither of those reactions are warranted. The obstacles that once came in the way of Delhi’s approval of Artemis have been steadily giving way. Also, merely signing on to the accords (which are non-binding) does not automatically mean India will be cooperating with the US’ lunar exploration programme or that it cannot collaborate with other states. 

What’s Artemis?

The Artemis Accords came into being in 2020, with eight founding states including the US. On June 21, Ecuador became the 26th state to sign on to the accords. Other signatories include Australia, Japan, France, the UK, and the UAE.  Two major spacefaring states that are conspicuous by their absence are Russia and China.

The accords are meant to serve as guidelines for the US’ Artemis programme, which is humanity’s most ambitious space exploration project since the Apollo missions. The Artemis programme seeks to return humans to the Moon for good. In November 2022, the programme made a humble beginning with the launch of the uncrewed Artemis-1 mission that orbited the Moon. The next step is Artemis-2, which will take a crew past the Moon to the furthest humans have been from Earth. The Artemis-3 mission is meant to land two astronauts on the Moon’s south pole for six days (while another two remain in orbit). However, the date for this mission has been pushed from 2024 to 2025 and now 2026. Further delays are possible. 

Notwithstanding these delays, the Artemis programme retains its ambitions. Besides new launch and landing systems, NASA and its partners plan to set up an Artemis base camp on the lunar surface as well as a small space station orbiting the Moon called the Lunar Gateway. To make it easier to operate on the Moon, the US also plans to put in place the Lunar Communications Relay and Navigation Systems. Abbreviated as LCRNS, this lunar satellite constellation will both act like a GPS (helping with navigating and time keeping) and as a communication system. 

Artemis is also dependent on American private players like SpaceX as well as other national space agencies. For example, both Japan’s JAXA and the European Space Agency (ESA) are involved in providing important capabilities for the Lunar Gateway. The ESA is also developing the European Large Logistics Lander, a spaceship for ferrying cargo between the Earth and Moon.

Artemis Discord

Considering the scale of lunar activities the US envisions and international collaborators it seeks , it is hardly surprising that it chose to come up with a set of guidelines based on existing international law. The set of ten principles are largely unremarkable: the peaceful use of space, transparency, interoperability, emergency assistance, registration of space objects, release of scientific data, protecting heritage in space, allowing the extraction and use of resources, deconfliction of activities, and managing orbital debris and safe disposal.

The Artemis principles are largely in line with the four most important international space laws: the Outer Space Treaty (1967), the Rescue Agreement (1968), the Liability Convention (1972), and the Registration Convention (1976). All major spacefaring nations including India are parties to these agreements. 

Some have argued that Artemis is in opposition to the Moon Agreement (1979), a later treaty signed by states that were not major spacefarers at that time. The US, the Soviet Union, and China did not join the Moon Agreement. India signed on, but did not ratify.

Indeed, some early American champions of Artemis were clearly opposed to the Moon Agreement. Scott Pace, executive secretary of the White House’s National Space Council during the administration of Donald Trump described the agreement as “contrary to American interests” because it called for equitable sharing of benefits from the Moon’s resources. In January 2023, Saudi Arabia withdrew from the Moon Agreement to sign the Artemis Accords. In contrast, Australia, which signed and ratified the Moon Agreement decades ago was a founding signatory to Artemis. Australia has argued that there is no contradiction between the Moon Agreement and Artemis, a line India is also likely to take. 

Regardless of India’s formal stance on the Moon Agreement, there are reasons to have some concerns about three out of the ten provisions in the Artemis Accords. Two of these are about protecting heritage in space (such as the Apollo 11 landing site) and deconfliction of activities. While these may be innocuous for most part, they could lead to the establishment of de facto sovereign territory on the Moon, something prohibited by the Outer Space Treaty. 

Of greater concern is the extraction and utilisation of resources. In 2015, the US Congress passed a bill allowing the private sector to utilize natural resources from celestial bodies. In 2020, then-President Donald Trump signed an executive order that directed US diplomats to make this an international norm. Unregulated use of the Moon’s resources can lead to its appropriation by major spacefarers at the expense of others. It could also lead to devastating environmental consequences as lunar dust gets kicked up and spreads in an environment with low gravity and no atmosphere. 

While these are real concerns, we should note such risks are not imminent. Despite the hype, in the near future it’s unlikely to be economically and technologically feasible to extract the Moon’s resources for use on Earth at any scale. Instead spacefarers will focus on in-situ utilisation of lunar resources to sustain human presence on the Moon. One important resource will be the lunar soil or regolith, which will be needed to build facilities. The other will be lunar ice, which could provide oxygen and water to sustain people, and hydrogen to fuel spacecraft. 

Of course, states will need to develop clear norms for the lunar mining and resource extraction. The Artemis Accords do not provide for this, but then, they are not meant to be a comprehensive set of rules. At best, Artemis is a starting point for more detailed negotiations about how we use the Moon.

China and Russia 

In 2021, China and Russia partnered to set up an International Lunar Research Station (ILRS), their plan for a permanent presence on the Moon. Russia’s ability to participate in ILRS has declined precipitously following its war with Ukraine, which has led to financial constraints as well as heavy Western sanctions against its space programme. 

China has been carrying on nonetheless, outlining plans for short visits to the Moon by Chinese astronauts, and the setting up of a permanent base. Like the US, China also plans to deploy a constellation of lunar satellites to provide navigation and communications.

Why India Hesitated

While Indian officials did not make public statements about their stance on the Artemis Accords, it is possible to identify their concerns. One, the extraction of resources undoubtedly created some misgivings in India as it did in other countries with limited lunar capabilities. Two, India historically tends to prefer formal legally-binding measures in international negotiations over informal agreements like Artemis. Three, some in India may have been concerned that signing on to Artemis would reduce backing for India’s homegrown lunar projects. Four, and perhaps most importantly, signing the Artemis Accords is a clear political signal indicating some proximity to the United States. As a state that values its autonomy, India would only agree to such a move if the benefits clearly outweighed the costs.   

Why India is Embracing Artemis Now

It is not difficult to see how India’s hesitations faded away. One, as India’s own space ambitions have grown, it is also considering resource extraction in space. India’s new Space Policy 2023 explicitly allows private companies to “engage in the commercial recovery of an asteroid resource or a space resource”. 

Two, politics back on Earth make any new overarching international legal framework unlikely in the immediate future. At present, the divisions between the West on the one hand, and China and Russia on the other, have hobbled progress on a variety of issues related to space security and sustainability. 

Three, signing the Artemis Accords does not mean India automatically becomes part of the Artemis programme. India can decide the extent of its participation or indeed, if it wants to participate at all. It is likely that growing cooperation between ISRO and NASA in other spheres helped ease concerns among Indian space scientists. 

Four, the news about Artemis comes amid a flurry of agreements on technological cooperation between India and the United States. The countries have drawn closer not just because they have to balance China militarily but also because they have to partner in the large-scale efforts to diversify supply chains for high-technology. It is likely India sought concessions from the Americans in return for its Artemis signature. These concessions need not be connected to outer space affairs and might entail important forms of technology or defence cooperation. 

What Next?

If India is to have a meaningful role in the Artemis programme, it will have to scale up its budget for space dramatically. It will also need to pass legislation that covers lunar activities to provide a sound legal basis for domestic regulation of space activity.

India’s lunar ambitions need not be US-centric. Indeed, some of the most fruitful cooperation could come from working with other Artemis signatories such as Japan, France, and Australia. Here, India’s Artemis signature would be a help, not a hindrance. Artemis also does not prevent India from cooperating with Russia wherever feasible.  Finally, India will also need to push for serious dialogue on lunar governance through both norms and legally binding measures. This is simply the beginning.  

You can check out Takshashila’s 2022 Issue Paper on India and the Artemis Accords, in which we concluded it was in India’s best interests to sign the accords. 

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