Power rarely disappears, but it relocates. One of its most consequential shifts today is unfolding roughly 500 kilometers (300-plus miles) above our heads, in a domain where democratic oversight has yet to catch up. What was once viewed as a distant scientific frontier has quietly become the invisible architecture of modern life. Space is no longer peripheral. It is emerging as one of the most decisive arenas of political authority in the 21st century.
This orbital infrastructure has little to do with the romance of exploration. It underpins the basic functioning of terrestrial societies. Space systems provide the timing signals that stabilize global financial markets, the data that enables environmental monitoring, and the connectivity that sustains governance during crises and conflicts.
If these systems were to fail tomorrow, the consequences would be immediate and severe. Automated teller machines would stop functioning, power grids would lose synchronization, and emergency response capabilities would be critically impaired. According to Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) estimates, the global space economy has reached approximately $613 billion, transforming orbit into an indispensable engine of modern state capacity.
Yet as dependence on space grows, a dangerous imbalance has emerged. Control over space infrastructure has become a form of political power in itself, exercised not through elections or public accountability, but through technical discretion, commercial contracts and informal geopolitical alignments. Authority in orbit increasingly operates outside the traditional frameworks of democratic governance.
The war in Ukraine offered a stark preview of this new reality. Commercial satellite connectivity became a critical backbone of national resilience. However, as documented by Reuters and the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), access to satellite internet services in certain combat zones was at times subject to internal corporate assessments rather than formal state-to-state agreements. Tactical connectivity decisions with direct battlefield consequences were made through private channels. The power to enable or disable national defense capabilities has, in effect, become a commercial commodity.
This relocation of authority is also reshaping global geopolitics. While established space powers remain constrained by aging regulatory frameworks, emerging actors are moving decisively to secure their own access to orbit. Türkiye’s growing space ambitions, alongside China’s expanding footprint, reflect a broader trend toward the diversification of space infrastructure.
Recent discussions around establishing launch facilities in Africa, from the Horn of Africa to the equatorial belt, are not merely about technical efficiency. They represent the construction of new geopolitical corridors in orbit, often described as a “Space Silk Road.” For emerging powers, such initiatives reduce dependence on traditional gatekeepers of space access. For host countries in the Global South introduce new forms of strategic dependency raises urgent questions about sovereignty, governance and long-term accountability.
The concentration of power extends beyond connectivity and launch access. It now shapes how truth itself is documented. International organizations such as the United Nations Satellite Centre (UNOSAT) and Human Rights Watch increasingly rely on imagery provided by private firms like Maxar and Planet to document mass graves, environmental destruction and war crimes. While these companies perform indispensable functions, decisions about what is observed, when it is released, and who gains access remain governed by commercial logic rather than public mandate.
When the evidentiary record of global crises is filtered through corporate decision-making, the risk is not simply bias, but structural opacity. History itself becomes mediated by private interests.
Legally, space governance resembles an unfinished project. The Outer Space Treaty, signed in 1967, was designed for a bipolar world of two superpowers. Today, with more than 10,000 active satellites in low Earth orbit, international law has failed to keep pace. The Secure World Foundation has repeatedly warned that regulatory gaps are being filled not by multilateral consensus, but by private operators acting without democratic oversight.
Reversing this trajectory does not require rejecting commercial space. On the contrary, it requires recognizing that space infrastructure has become public-interest infrastructure, comparable to maritime routes or the backbone of the internet. Policy frameworks proposed by institutions such as the World Economic Forum (WEF) and the European Space Policy Institute (ESPI) emphasize transparency standards, shared crisis protocols and accountability mechanisms as prerequisites for democratic legitimacy beyond Earth.
Democracy does not automatically extend into new domains. It must be deliberately constructed. Space is no longer only a technological frontier. It is a political one. If democratic institutions fail to follow power into orbit, they risk surrendering oversight over the most consequential infrastructure of the modern age.
The heavens are being privatized. And with them, the very tools of collective self-determination.
