On 1 April, four astronauts left Earth to circle the Moon for the first time in over 50 years, marking a historic moment in space exploration. Flags may wave, speeches may be given, and “historic” will likely be the word on many lips. Yet amid the celebration, one critical topic is being overlooked: the responsibility of humanity to care for the Moon.
Humanity’s track record on other worlds is modest at best. During the Apollo missions from 1969 to 1972, astronauts left behind 96 bags of human waste—including urine, feces, and vomit—on the lunar surface. These sacrifices were made to reduce the weight of the lunar modules, enabling astronauts to return to Earth with Moon rocks. The first photograph Neil Armstrong took after stepping onto the lunar surface even captured one of those waste bags. Today, astrobiologists are concerned about possible biological contamination and the need to retrieve these remnants.
The decision to leave waste on the Moon highlights a broader problem: international law provides little guidance on environmental responsibility beyond Earth. The Outer Space Treaty of 1967 prohibits national appropriation of celestial bodies but says nothing about protecting extraterrestrial environments or who decides what is acceptable behavior. The Moon remains a shared domain under human law, yet governance has been slow to catch up with ambition.
Humanity has treated the Moon, and space in general, like an open frontier. Debris fills Earth’s orbit, from dead satellites to rocket fragments, a legacy of exploration without accountability. Space is often governed reactively, only after damage has occurred. Experts argue that the same mistakes must not be repeated on the Moon. NASA’s Artemis program, which aims for permanent lunar bases and resource extraction, offers a pivotal moment to redefine this approach. But the agency itself has acknowledged the potential for lunar surface clutter, with Administrator Jared Isaacman warning it may “look like a junkyard” for a decade. Private companies are already eyeing lunar mining, and nations are competing for strategic terrain.
What is missing is a serious debate about stewardship. The Moon is a site of outstanding universal value, with ancient geology that serves as an irreplaceable scientific archive. Craters near the lunar south pole—the focus of Artemis—contain water ice that preserves records of the early Solar System and could provide resources for future missions. The Apollo landing sites themselves are monuments of human history. These places would meet criteria for World Heritage designation if they were on Earth, but there is currently no framework to protect them in space.
The Artemis Accords, signed by 61 nations including the United States, encourage responsible exploration, yet they are non-binding. Major spacefaring powers such as Russia and China have not signed, and the accords do not establish enforceable environmental standards. Historically marginalized nations, Indigenous communities, and the billions of people without space programs were not consulted. Decisions about extraterrestrial activity are being made by a narrow set of actors, without broad consent from humanity.
Some experts argue that alternative value systems offer guidance. Indigenous traditions, for example, view land, water, and sky not as property but as relationships to be honored. Ancestral philosophies from the Fula and Mende peoples of Sierra Leone and from Haiti emphasize accountability over ownership. Applying such perspectives to space exploration could shift the focus from extraction and exploitation to kinship with new environments. These approaches are not naïve—they are informed by millennia of survival on a planet already pushed to the brink by unsustainable practices.
As humans prepare to extend their reach to the Moon and beyond, the inheritance we carry matters. We can choose ownership, with its pursuit of profit, prestige, and territorial advantage, or stewardship, which prioritizes responsibility and care. Artemis offers a historic opportunity to model the latter. To do so, missions must incorporate environmental impact assessments with enforceable authority and multilateral, inclusive governance structures. Extending the logic of World Heritage protection to celestial bodies would recognize that some sites are too irreplaceable, too significant, and too much a common inheritance of humanity to be left to whoever arrives first.
The Artemis program need not be a story of conquest. With foresight and commitment to stewardship, it could instead become a model for responsible exploration. In that sense, humanity’s next giant leap is not about setting footprints on new terrain but about embracing the duty to protect and honor it for generations to come.
