Space Power and Information Superiority

A New Medium for Cultural Policy

By Dr Rod Biblett
School of Communications and Multimedia
Edith Cowan University
2 Bradford St
Mt Lawley
WA 6051


Space is again on the agenda with the resurrection of Ronald Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative or ‘Star Wars’ missile shield, albeit under a new name. Integral to this drive and vital to its success is the deployment and use of communication technologies and the control of flows of information. Both of these take place in orbital, extraterrestrial space, a new front for warfare and a new medium for the new media, especially cyberspace and the Internet. In this article I trace this recent development and give a critical account of the nationalist and militarist rhetoric in which it is couched. I argue that ‘weaponisation’ of space is in contravention of a number of international treaties. I conclude that ‘astroenvironmentalism’ should be a broadly based popular movement of resistance to these moves and of action for the global commons of space owned by none and shared by all.

George W. Bush’s announcements about National Missile Defence (NMD) – a new declaration of Star Wars – brings home the fact that extraterrestrial space is being colonised by nation-states (or by one nation-state in particular) and its commons enclosed into the private property of corporations. In particular, the privatisation and militarisation (or more precisely ‘weaponisation’) of extraterrestrial space proceeds apace despite the Outer Space Treaty of 1967 adopted by a majority of members of the United Nations and recently re-affirmed in November 2000 that seeks to ‘set aside’ extraterrestrial space as a kind of inter-national park for all nations to share in and to be owned by none. The 1979 Moon Treaty argued along similar lines for ‘commonality of ownership of space bodies’ (Marshall, 1999). Such moves come in response to US attempts to become ‘Masters of Space.’

After the militarisation of space in the 1980s comes its ‘weaponisation’ in the 2000s. In the meantime and in the aftermath of the Gulf War in the 1990s there was a growing recognition that ‘future US security hinges on [a] dominant role in space’ (Berkowitz, 1992, p.71). If it does not maintain that role (and even if it does), ‘a space-based Pearl Harbour could be around the corner’ (Berry, 2001). Ironically, in the same week in which the film Pearl Harbour was released New Scientist published an article by Oberg (2001, p.28) in which he claimed that ‘without more funding for space defence, the US faces a Pearl Harbour in orbit.’ Perhaps the irony goes beyond mere coincidence into the realms of conspiracy, though there is probably nothing as sinister and conjectural operating here. Rather, what could be called ‘condiscursivity’ is operating in which a common rhetoric of paranoia and xenophobia is deployed across the cultural landscape for reactionary political ends. Exactly who or what would be attacked, and who or what would do the attacking, is not specified in either case, but raising this spectre from the past may be enough to prompt national action on this front.


Or perhaps more precisely, raising this spectre from the past may be enough to prompt national action on this frontier. Over the past decade senior military personnel and commentators in the United States have been calling for it to cross ‘the final frontier,’ take ‘the ultimate high ground’ and become ‘masters of space.’ Fascination with the frontier – crossing it, closing it, and cloning it – has been a defining feature of American cultural and political life for over a century. The frontier can be terrestrial (as with the winning of the national territory from the indigenes during the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries) or extraterrestrial (as with the conquest of space in the 1960s). The famous historian Frederick Jackson Turner argued in 1893 that ‘American social development has been continually beginning over again on the frontier. This perennial rebirth, this fluidity of American life . . . furnish the forces dominating the American character’ (quoted by Healy, 1997, pp.55,6; see also Turner, 1893/1961). Turner was weighing the significance of the census of 1890 which declared that the frontier was closed (Kern, 1983, p.164).

Interestingly, and ironically, the 1890 census marked another turning point, the first large-scale use of mechanical computation for social calculation with the use of Hollerith’s punch-card machine, a precursor of the computer (Shurkin, 1984, p.78; Hanson, 1982, p.48; Campbell-Kelly and Aspray, 1996, pp.20-26). The fully-fledged computer later converged with telecommunications to produce cyberspace with its own frontier mythology (see Healy, 1997). The computer and telecommunications also opened the extraterrestrial frontier of orbital space. Despite, or perhaps because of, a flood of jingoistic nationalism surrounding it, the frontier mythology has not been without its critics. In the 1950s poet and doctor William Carlos William saw American history as ‘full of a rich regenerative violence.’ In a trilogy on the mythology of the frontier whose first volume quoted Williams as an epigraph and invoked in its title his idea of ‘regeneration through violence’ Slotkin (1973, 1992, 1994) critiqued Turner’s masculinist ‘frontier thesis,’ especially the typology of the frontier hero.

Slotkin’s great trilogy ends in 1973 with the fall of Saigon and the defeat of the United States in the slimy swamps of Vietnam (see Giblett, 1996, chapter 9). Yet this ignominious defeat by no means heralded the end of the mythology of the frontier but the beginning of its displacement into cyberspace and sublime extraterrestrial space (and vectory in the Gulf War18 years later (see Giblett, 2001)) and the perpetuation of the frontier hero in the astronaut, console cowboy, hacker, video-gamer and web-surfer. Regeneration through violence was sublimated into regeneration through video violence. Healy (1997, p.57) sees the Internet as ‘a new kind of frontier’ with the pioneer in cyberspace as the new frontier hero opening it up for what Fisher (1997, p.121) calls ‘mass migration into cyberspace.’ Cyberspace is a new frontier replacing the old new frontier of orbital extraterrestrial space and pointing towards the future frontier of extra-orbital space (‘extrorbitant’ space).

Extra-orbital space (‘ex(tr)orbitant’ space) is the future frontier for the United States intent on pursuing its frontier mythology into new territories (Oberg, nd, pp.166-168). ‘Let us conquer space’ was the rallying cry in the nineteenth century for crossing the terrestrial frontier and entering the ‘howling wilderness’ beyond (Oberg, nd, p.1). National frontier mythology was embodied in the national hero of the frontier such as Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett as it was later to be in John Glenn and Neil Armstrong. The frontier purportedly welded the nation together and created a sense of national purpose. The closing of the territorial frontier was a defining moment in national history just as the opening of the extraterrestrial frontier was a new moment of national definition.

Yet with the closing of the orbital frontier a new extra-orbital frontier was sought beyond it. The Mars Society, for instance, advocates human settlement on that planet in terms of the frontier mythology by attributing ‘current social ills to be a consequence of the loss of the frontier’ (Oberg, nd, p.167). Mars is the new frontier whose opening, and ‘homesteading’ as Lewis (1996, pp.155-172) puts it in similar vein, will miraculously cure all social ills on earth. As Marshall (1999) argues, ‘frontiersmen never die, they just drift off into space,’ for them ‘the final frontier.’ He goes on to list eight titles of recent articles and books devoted to the ‘space frontier’ and ‘space colonies.’

Just as US Congressmen in the nineteenth century proposed the paving of a road through the frontier of the Cumberland Gap, so for (Oberg, nd, p.1) ‘federal investments in and subsidies of canal, railroad, . . .aircraft and so forth have opened doors and lowered thresholds for public and commercial traffic to flow through.’ Oberg and others see a similar scenario being played out in extra-orbital space now and into the foreseeable future. The frontier mythology is being press-ganged into the service of military objectives.


The US military, according to Grossman (2001, p.34), wants to ‘control space’ and ‘dominate’ the earth as ‘explicitly stated in documents of the US Space Command’ (USSPACECOM). Its Vision for 2020 (online) proclaims that ‘today, the United States is the pre-eminent military space power.’ The reason? ‘USSPACECOM is the only military organization with operational forces in space.’ Its website explains that US Space Command was set up in 1985 to ‘help institutionalise the use of space. . ., the ultimate high ground.’ Objects in space have, as Oberg (nd, p.4; see also p.14) puts it, ‘a VANTAGE point for viewing large areas on the ground.’ From this vantage point and high military ground the US military wants to wage future wars on earth. On this military high ground it may also wage future wars in space (General Joseph Ashy cited by Grossman, 2001, p.37) which some see as ‘virtually inevitable’ (see Oberg, nd, p.61). Rather than being a matter of if warfare moves to space, for Oberg (nd, p.129) it is a only a matter of ‘when warfare moves to space.’

The threat of space war is the new Cold War, as it, like its predecessor with nuclear war, verges on inevitability. Yet unlike the balance of terror between the two antagonists of United States and the USSR that characterised the old Cold War, the new Cold War is being fought between the US and whoever fits the bill of a ‘rogue state’ or harbourer of terrorists. Also unlike the balance of terror between the two nuclear superpowers, the new Cold War is between the US with the instruments of terror (communication satellites) above our heads in orbital extraterrestrial space (see Giblett, 2001) and terrorists without the same space arsenal.

If war in space is ‘virtually inevitable,’ for (Oberg, nd, pp.61 and 129) ‘the weaponisation of space is inevitable.’ Just as the old Cold War deployed nuclear weapons, so Space War seeks to deploy space weapons such as laser cannons on platforms in space. Under the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, as Oberg (nd, p.81) puts it, ‘warlike activities are forbidden in space and on celestial bodies, save in self-defence or defence of allies.’ Military surveillance, information processing and ground targeting from space could be construed as warlike activities or they could be condoned as defensive ones. Either way, this is a moot point whereas the nexus between communication technologies and the military is well-established.

The association between communication technologies (such as telegraphy, photography and cinematography) and war is a long and necessary one. Whilst some communication technologies were developed for military purposes (such as satellites), the development of other communication technologies (such as television) was hindered because there was no immediate military use, or investment (see Giblett, 2001 and forthcoming a; Williams, 1974, pp.8-13 and 1989, pp.120-123). Recent developments of Space and Star Wars are no exception to this nexus. Communication technologies are just as much weapons of war as guns are (Virilio and Lotringer 1983, p. 20; Virilio, 1995, p. 54; Giblett, forthcoming a).

Space may have no end, but where does it begin? Oberg (nd, pp.79-80) points out that:

even after decades of space activities, there is still no legal definition of where ‘space’ begins and national sovereignty ends. Although maritime boundaries tended to originally be defined by the range of naval gunfire, the ability of several nations to attack low-orbit objects has not led to an extension of national sovereignty to these altitudes.

Space may begin as low as about 30 kilometres above the earth or as high as about 160 kilometres, or even further beyond at 35,800 kilometres. The Bogota Declaration of 1976 signed by 8 equatorial countries declared that ‘geostationary orbit [at about 35,800 kilometres above the equator] is a scarce natural asset that is not part of outer space’ and that ‘the geostationary orbit arc above each country is the sovereign territory of the country’ (Oberg, nd, pp.72 and 100; my emphasis). It also declared that ‘the geostationary arc above the oceans are part of the common heritage of all mankind and should be exploited to the benefit of all mankind.’

The US has other plans. The Long Range Plan (online) of the US Space Command defines ‘control of space’ as:

the ability to secure access to space, freedom of operations within the space medium, and an ability to deny others the use of space, if required. Achieving and maintaining Control of Space will influence all national and military objectives. Future space programs will be “consumer oriented” to assure information dominance of the warfighter. This operational concept encompasses today’s missions of space control and space support (; see also Oberg, nd, p.10)

Space is figured as a ‘medium,’ rather than being seen a place, let alone as a commons. For Oberg (nd, p.4; see also pp.126-127) ‘space used to be a barrier, but like the oceans, it is being transformed into a medium for transportation and a medium for harvesting.’ As communication followed transportation as the leading edge technology and industry, and communication became separated from transportation (see Carey, 1989; Williams, 1976), so space becomes a communication medium for harvesting benefits not only in spectrum auctions but also in the deployment of satellites and space weaponry. Space, like the oceans, is not being seen as an ecosystem, as a habitat, as part of the ecosphere. Rather it is being seen as a field in and from which the US can, as Oberg (nd, p.86) puts it, ‘reap the benefits of space power.’ Space, like the oceans, has been militarised and is being weaponised.

Space is being seen as a medium because it is not just spatial but also temporal. Oberg (nd, p.126) argues that ‘access to the medium of space has already changed the conventional terrestrial concepts of area, volume and time.’ It has made possible extensive surveillance of vast tracts of the earth’s surface (Oberg, nd, p.124) and of large volumes of air space. It has also made possible almost instantaneous communication in ‘real time’ across large distances. As a result, as Brown (1996, p.33) ‘time has been compressed; space has been distorted and expanded.’

Space-based communications come at the end of a long history of time compression and space distortion. Dearth and Gooden (1996, p.274) trace this history:

Since the early days of the Industrial Age, time increasingly has been compressed; yet it has become more important. . . Initially, it was transportation technology that drove this compression. The steam engine was applied to ground and then marine transport. Later the telegraph— and then wireless telegraphy—enabled information to be passed over greater distances with amazing speed. There followed the telephone and its adjunct— actually a technology that pre‑dated the telephone—the facsimile machine. Then it was television, which introduced the added dimension of more vivid graphical—and life‑like—images. More recently, it has been the computer—and particularly the microprocessor—linked via local‑ and wide‑area networks. Thus, speed has increased ever more dramatically as a function of distance. The result is that distance means less—and, hence, time is compressed (their emphasis).

Space is also a medium because it is where the threat of war is mediated. The medium of space is what Oberg (nd, p.147 my emphasis) calls ‘an emerging linchpin for the threat and application of force and of the conduct of war.’ Space is no longer the sky above our heads where the peaceful spirits of the earth fly, nor the heavens where the gods reside, but the medium through which the threat of war in space is mediated.


Just as the United States is the world’s greatest seafaring nation it is also ‘the world’s greatest spacefaring nation’ according to General Howell M. Estes III, former Commander in Chief of the US Air Force and US Space Command, writing in his foreword to Space power theory (Oberg, nd, p.x). For Oberg (nd, p.49) ‘the United States holds a dominant lead in Earth’s space activities’ as it has ‘the most far-flung fleet of interplanetary space probes in the history of the space age.’ It is also the world’s greatest military space power.

China is challenging this supremacy, or at least the U.S. perceives a challenge to their supremacy coming from that quarter. The Commission to Assess U.S. National Security Space Management and Organization is quoted as arguing that ‘the Xinhua news agency reported that China’s military is developing methods and strategies for defeating the U.S. military in a high-tech and space-based future war’ (Berry, 2001). The threat may be more perceived than real with space just another theatre of operations. Just as the oceans became the stage on which nations could flex their military muscle and boast of their status as powers, so space is becoming a similar domain. According to Oberg (nd, p.63) ‘the Chinese government has obviously selected space operations as an area to prove their status as a modern great power.’ Space is reduced to merely the context in which to prove great power status and the pretext for space operations. Space is seen having no inherent worth or other uses.

Despite the militarisation of space and the military beginnings of spaceflight, the boosters of US space conquest laud the ‘peaceful’ uses of space in biblical terms. Oberg (nd, p.6) acknowledges that ‘spaceflight sprang from MILITARY roots.’ He later concedes that space travel had a ‘far-from-immaculate conception’ (p.143). Yet it did have an immaculate conception in the Bachelor Machine for a Bachelor Birth of the military-industrial-university complex. Theweleit (1987, p.330n; see also p.315) describes Bachelor Births from Bachelor Machines as ‘attempts to create a new reality by circumventing the female body - to engender the world from the brain.’ Bachelor Machines circumvent not only the body of the mother, but also the earth. Spaceflight enacts the desire to escape from ‘the prison of the earth’ and ‘orbit in the sublime company of heavenly bodies’ (see Giblett, 2001). Spaceflight had the same immaculate conception as the nuclear bomb (see Easlea, 1983) and as a long line of Bachelor, or celibate, machines immaculately conceived before it (see Carrouges, 1954; 1975; Certeau, 1984, pp.150-153; 1986), including communication technologies such as photography, cinema, radio and television (see Giblett, forthcoming a).

Despite these military roots and conception spaceflight for Oberg (nd, p.6) is:

now surprisingly ‘peaceful’ – possibly the most genuine ‘swords into ploughshares’ metamorphosis in history. However, those ploughshares can also quickly change back into swords. The 1991 Gulf War demonstrated the exceptional military utility of space systems.

According to Oberg (nd, p.123), for some within the US military ‘the Persian Gulf War represents the first space war’ (see Anson and Cummings, 1992, pp.121-133; see also Giblett, 2001). He finds this claim ‘dubious’ as ‘there have been no warriors in space; there have been no weapons fired from space against terrestrial targets; and, there have been no space-to-space engagements’ (p.121). But there have been and are military surveillance and targeting satellites in space; there have been weapons fired against terrestrial targets targeted from space; and so there have been space-to-earth engagements albeit mediated. Although ‘space remains unarmed’ (p.125) it is not unmilitarised. Although the Gulf War may not have been ‘the first space war’ it was, as Anson and Cummings (1992, p.121) put it, ‘the first occasion in which a full range of military space systems was used in anger.’

Just as a tree can never sever its connection from its roots and survive, so spaceflight can never get away from its military beginnings. Swords can never turn into ploughshares without bearing the traces of their former occupation. If a ploughshare can be turned back into a sword, it has never entirely ceased to be a sword. The technology is the use, the first use. The military roots of the ploughshare produce the benefits that can be reaped in harvesting space. The ploughshare ‘breaks the plains’ of space just as it did the earth in the agricultural conquest of the ‘wilderness’ of the prairie. Celesti-culture succeeds agriculture.

Just as telecommunications, computers and satellites have converged so do the soldier, sailor, marine and pilot converge in the ‘warfighter.’ Whereas the soldier, sailor, marine and pilot were partially defined by the front or the terrain on which and space in which they fought, the warfighter fights in extraterrestrial space where all wars against the US are now lost (or at least achieve a state of unaccomplishment as (and beginning) with the Gulf War (see Giblett, 2001)) and is defined purely by the function he (or she) serves.

The warfighter is also defined by ‘the medium’ of space in which s/he serves rather than by the front on which s/he serves as ‘the medium of space is the fourth medium of warfare – along with [and after] land, sea, and air’ as the US Space Command Vision for 2020 puts it. Just as ‘air support’ evolved into ‘air power’ to protect ‘US national interests and investments’ so will space support ‘evolve’ into space power to do the same. The social Darwinism of the ‘survival of the fittest’ is extrapolated from the ‘jungles’ of the industrial city and projected onto extraterrestrial space just as it was onto equatorial rainforests (see Giblett, forthcoming b, chapter 12). In Vision for 2020 (online) General Estes has the ‘US Space Command dominating the space dimension of military operations to protect US interests and investments’ both on earth and in space.

Vision for 2020 predicts that ‘during the early portion of the 21st century, space power will . . . evolve into a separate and equal medium of warfare.’ The US may even ‘evolve into the guardian of space commerce – similar to the historical example of navies protecting sea commerce’ as ‘space commerce is becoming increasingly important to the global economy.’ Ecommerce using communication satellites in orbital extraterrestrial space is becoming integral to the global economy. Gunboat ‘diplomacy’ will then extend into space with spaceship diplomacy in which the US will play guardian to the colonies of space, to its colonies in space, and on earth.

The US also wants to act as a steward in managing the estates of space by reaping its harvests and distributing its rewards. The US military not only wants to take the high spatial ground but also the high moral ground, and to couch and justify its claims to the former in terms of the latter. General Estes III proclaims that ‘as stewards for military space, we must be prepared to exploit the advantages of the space medium’ just as the good Christian stewards of terrestrial space exploited the advantages of the earth ‘medium’ and ‘harvested’ its goods.


Information is crucial for doing so. Information is crucial for controlling space and controlling space is crucial for ‘information superiority.’ Communication satellites and other communication technologies such as radio are the conduits and vectors for the control and flow of information. The electromagnetic spectrum is the natural resource being exploited for information superiority. The launching and positioning of communication satellites in extraterrestrial space are vital for communicating information and for maintaining pre-eminence over terrestrial sites. An information circuit is set up between the terrestrial target, extraterrestrial communication satellites and weapons. The flow of information from the target via the satellite to the weapon is countered by a flow of deadly force against the site targeted by the satellite. Controlling the military high ground of extraterrestrial space becomes crucial for controlling the military low ground of terrestrial space.

‘Control of Space’ is seen as ‘essential to achieving the force multiplying effect of Information Superiority’ defined in both the Long Range Plan and Vision 2020 as ‘the capability to collect, process, and disseminate an uninterrupted flow of information while exploiting or denying an adversary’s ability to do [or ‘leverage’ as Vision puts it] the same.’ The Long Range Plan goes on to argue thatspace superiority is essential to Information Superiority. . . Threats to space are threats to Information Superiority.’ What Zuboff (1988, p.322), calls ‘the panoptic power of information technology’ is no longer confined to terrestrial space but is increasingly extended to extraterrestrial space. Surveillance, along with intelligence and reconnaissance (ISR), become key terms superseding the C3 (command, control and communication) of previous wars as the military mantra (see Brown, 1996, p.31).

Rather than attacking the enemy’s external defenses first, and as the Gulf War amply illustrated, ‘strategic information warfare’ involves attacking, as Brown (1996, p.39) puts it, ‘the more vulnerable internal systems first.’ These include the power grid and telecommunications with the aim of preventing, in the words of a US Air Force Colonel (cited by Brown, 1996, p.40), ‘the system’s leadership from gathering, processing, and using information we don’t want him to have.’ Control of space means not only gaining the spatial high ground, but also, as Brown (1996, p.43) puts it, ‘battling for the information high ground.’ The space warrior is also an ‘information warrior’ (Brown, 1996, p.46). In fact, ‘space warriors defend information assets’ (Sheehy, 2001).

There are three types of Information Warfare according to Brown (1996, p.47):

Type I Information Warfare involves managing the enemy’s perceptions through deception operations, psychological operations, what the Joint Staff calls “Truth Projection,” and a variety of other techniques. At the same time, one must protect against enemy perception management efforts. . . Type II Information Warfare involves denying, destroying, degrading or distorting the enemy’s information flows in order to break down his organizations and his ability to coordinate operations. [such as destroying the power grid and telecommunications as in the Gulf War]. . . Type III Information Warfare gathers intelligence by exploiting the enemy’s use of information systems. A much larger challenge, however, may be in protecting friendly information systems from exploitation by other intelligence organizations.

With this last type, the Information Warrior would tap into, and eavesdrop on, the enemy’s military communications in order to glean secrets whilst at the same time trying to stop the same courtesy being extended against him and his allies. The Information Warrior would be involved in both offence and defence and would therefore be a fully-fledged fighter, and information warfare would be (a part of) war. Brown (1996, p.49) concludes direly that ‘a nation without an Information Warfare capability will be a nation without a military capability.’

Space power for Oberg (nd, p.127) must be ‘combined’ with its ‘emerging sibling’ of information power. Whereas communication technologies were merely the stepchild of war, Oberg sees information power as the younger sibling of space power. The younger sibling for him should combine its forces with the older. Space power depends on space surveillance. For Oberg (nd, p.14) ‘surveillance of space emerges as the key element of space control, enabling the other facets of protection and denial.’ The Long Range Plan stresses that ‘to assure access to space, we must surveil it. Surveillance of space allows total battlespace awareness, freedom of operations, and deconfliction of activities to, in, and from space – the cornerstones to ‘enforcing the peace’.’ An accompanying map on this page (see Figure) has somewhere in northern South America marked as a ‘no-go’ area (indicated thus ‘ X’) and being zapped by a red thunderbolt from on high in a secularised replay of the power of god:

Figure: Concepts of Operations for Control of Space (according to US Space Command)

In the chapter entitled ‘The Vision: Focused on the Warfighter’ the Plan maintains that:

If we don't have unfettered access to our space capabilities, we can't secure the ‘high ground.’ If we don't secure the high ground, we assume substantially greater risk when we try to successfully maneuver, strike, or adequately protect and sustain our forces. Control of Space ensures our forces have situational understanding and denies that product to the enemy. Our advantage in seeing and understanding the evolving situation, coupled with the enemy's inability to see, enables Dominant Maneuver, Precision Strike, Full-Dimensional Protection and Focused Logistics.

Extraterrestrial space is seen as just another resource to exploit, another commons to enclose, another frontier to cross, another eminence for pleasing prospects, another place to colonise, another commodity to sell, and prevent competitors from doing so. ‘The heart of future space operations’ for Oberg (nd, p.161) ‘has to be the industrialization of space’ including mining operations on the moon and the asteroids ‘which may lead to the colonization of space’ in the sense of human settlements. Extraterrestrial space is becoming the high commercial ground with the development of ‘capitalism in space’ (Grossman, 2001, p.37) in ‘the age of space commercialisation.’

Resisting these moves is ‘astroenvironmentalism’, a term coined by Ryder Miller (cited by Grossman, 2001, p.37) to describe the calls for a bureaucratic environmentalism of ‘impact statements’ in extraterrestrial space. Yet astroenvironmentalism should also be a popular environmentalism of common ownership in extraterrestrial space. Rather than the commons of extraterrestrial space being enclosed in the public property of nations and private property of corporations all should have equal ownership of, and access to, its goods and benefits. All should take equal responsibility for its care. After all, our earthly home is not just terrestrial but extraterrestrial in orbital space.


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