SpaceX’s Starlink project is transforming Low Earth Orbit (LEO) with an unprecedented “mega-constellation” of satellites. Originally planned for 12,000 satellites, Starlink has since expanded its ambition to 42,000 satellites – five times the number of all objects humans had ever launched into space prior to this project. This massive private deployment promises global internet coverage, but it also poses significant challenges to the international legal order governing outer space. Traditional space law frameworks, built in an era of state actors and a handful of satellites, are straining to address a scenario where a corporation effectively dominates a sizable portion of orbital traffic. The result is a growing debate on “corporate sovereignty” in space – the de facto control of orbital resources by private enterprises – and what it means for international law and global governance.
The Outer Space Treaty: Old Rules for a New Space Race
The 1967 Outer Space Treaty (OST) is the foundation of space law. Drafted in an era dominated by state actors, it enshrines the idea of outer space as the “province of all [hu]mankind,” forbids national appropriation of space, and secures freedom of exploration for all. Its guiding principle is that space activities should benefit everyone, not just a few powerful states. However, modern private ventures like Starlink pose an unforeseen question: How do these principles apply if one corporation, licensed by a single government, deploys and manages tens of thousands of satellites?
Even though the Treaty disallows any state from claiming ownership of space territory, a mega-constellation can still effectively occupy key altitudes and frequency bands. This may deter or complicate entry for others, thereby challenging the OST’s equitable access ideals. Significantly, Article VI of the OST holds states responsible for private space activities under their jurisdiction. A nation must authorize and supervise its private actors, and it remains liable for any damage caused. Hence, SpaceX’s Starlink falls under the legal purview of the United States (US), which bears ultimate responsibility for ensuring compliance with international obligations. Although the OST ensures that private ventures are not legally stateless, it never anticipated commercial fleets in the tens of thousands, which brings to light new regulatory and liability challenges.
Orbital Slots, Frequencies, and Corporate Control
While geostationary orbit employs slot allocations, LEO does not have rigid orbital reservations, but it does have finite radio spectrum and physical space. To operate, Starlink must secure frequency allocations via the International Telecommunication Union (ITU), the United Nations (UN) agency overseeing global radio-frequency use. The ITU’s coordination model generally works on a first-come, first-served basis; in practice, it can favor early large-scale filings by well-resourced entities.
In 2019, SpaceX filed plans for an additional 30,000 Starlink satellites beyond its already approved 12,000, stirring fears that it was “flooding” the ITU with paperwork. Critics argued this could sidestep meaningful international reviews and hinder smaller or later entrants. Meanwhile, other companies, sometimes using the regulatory frameworks of smaller states, filed for constellations even larger than Starlink’s — in 2021, Rwanda submitted an ITU filing for 337,320 satellites on behalf of a startup, and in 2023, France filed for a 116,640-satellite constellation called E-Space. These massive filings appear speculative given current launch capabilities, but they potentially lock down future orbital and spectrum resources.
Because the ITU has limited mechanisms to evaluate whether filings are realistic or excessive, countries and companies with substantial financial means and regulatory awareness often obtain better orbital positions. This raises questions about fairness, access, and the risk of “paper satellites” blocking genuine projects. While the legal framework states that space is not subject to national appropriation, the practical outcome is a de facto appropriation by those able to file first and in large volumes. So, there is a need for ITU reform, including stricter rules for mega-constellation submissions, to preserve the long-term viability of the orbital commons.
State Responsibility and the Article VI Dilemma
The growth of private space enterprises does not operate in a vacuum. Article VI of the OST clarifies that states remain internationally responsible for the actions of non-governmental entities. This means the US must supervise SpaceX’s Starlink and ensure compliance with treaty obligations. Agencies such as the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), and the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) regulate communications, imaging, and launch activities. However, at the international level, if a Starlink satellite damages another operator’s asset, the United States could be held liable under the OST and the 1972 Liability Convention.
Article VI also creates a complex web of geopolitical considerations. In the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war, Starlink’s terminals provided internet to Ukrainian forces, raising concerns that the private actions of a U.S. company might be seen as indirect US involvement. While no formal neutrality violation was alleged, the situation highlighted how commercial space services can entangle states in conflicts. The OST’s “special attribution” effect means a nation must maintain sufficient oversight of corporate ventures to avoid unintended diplomatic or legal repercussions. As private actors further expand into space, states face the delicate task of encouraging innovation while preventing corporate decisions from igniting international incidents.
Space Debris, Congestion, and Sustainability
One of the most pressing issues surrounding Starlink’s expansion is space debris and orbital congestion. With thousands of Starlink satellites already in orbit — and many more planned — the likelihood of close approaches and potential collisions has skyrocketed. Between January till June, 2024, Starlink satellites made around 50,000 collision-avoidance manoeuvres. Even a single collision could generate large amounts of debris, creating cascading risks (the Kessler syndrome) where one event triggers further collisions and an expanding cloud of high-speed fragments.
International law has struggled to address the debris threat. The OST’s Article IX calls for avoiding “harmful contamination” of space, but it lacks clear enforcement mechanisms or specific debris regulations. Most mitigation measures, like those proposed by the Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordination Committee (IADC) or the U.N.’s Long-Term Sustainability guidelines, are voluntary and do not impose binding obligations. SpaceX has emphasized that Starlink satellites are designed to autonomously deorbit at the end of their operational lives, reducing their long-term presence in orbit. Yet even with responsible practices, unforeseen events — solar storms, satellite malfunctions, or collisions — add to the steady growth of space debris. For future missions, navigating a congested LEO could become more complex and costly, undermining the OST’s vision of free exploration.
Rethinking International Governance for the “New Space” Era
Starlink illustrates how rapidly advancing technology can outpace international law. The Moon Agreement of 1979, the last major space treaty, gained few signatories, and there have been no new binding treaties since, despite an explosion of private space activity. Current space law thus relies on a patchwork of 1960s/1970s treaties and non-binding guidelines. Meanwhile, the concept of “corporate sovereignty” looms large: if a private firm can control vast orbital niches, how can the international community maintain space as a shared domain?
Some legal scholars argue that the OST’s non-appropriation principle in Article II should be interpreted to prohibit not only states but also private firms. Others suggest that a formal space traffic management framework, akin to global air traffic control, is necessary to coordinate manoeuvres, regulate satellite numbers, and minimize collisions. In practice, the ITU might need to take on a stronger governance role, with more authority to scrutinize or limit mega-constellation filings. Expert groups like the Outer Space Institute have proposed tighter control over new satellite submissions — perhaps requiring evidence of actual launch capability before granting large-scale orbital reservations.
At the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS), discussions revolve around voluntary “norms of responsible behavior.” Over time, these norms could evolve into binding obligations concerning debris mitigation, data sharing, and collision avoidance. Direct coordination among satellite operators — sharing orbital data to prevent collisions — offers an interim solution, but it is no substitute for a robust, universally accepted management system. There is also an argument for restricting the fraction of certain orbital shells any one entity can occupy, though such an approach would require broad international consensus.
Given that private companies possess vital technical expertise, their input will be pivotal. SpaceX, OneWeb, and Amazon’s Project Kuiper could help shape rules that reconcile market realities with long-term sustainability. Yet states ultimately bear responsibility for developing and enforcing international law. They might need to revise the OST to clarify obligations or adopt new treaties that set binding debris standards, establish liability caps, and introduce equitable access provisions. Such measures would be challenging to negotiate, but continuing with patchy guidelines risks the deterioration of the orbital commons, or even a major collision that forces the global community to act after damage is already done.
Looking Ahead: Cooperation Over Corporate Dominance
Starlink’s massive constellation underscores the dual nature of private space projects: they offer enormous benefits — from bridging the digital divide to supporting disaster response — while straining a legal regime designed for small-scale operations. “Corporate sovereignty” in space is not formal sovereignty; companies cannot claim territory. Still, they can wield outsize influence over crucial orbital resources.
The international community now faces an urgent call to adapt. The OST’s broad principles remain indispensable: space should serve humanity, and states are responsible for their nationals. But to prevent the “tragedy of the orbital commons,” where debris and congestion become insurmountable, additional clarity and binding rules may be needed. This might include imposing concrete debris mitigation requirements, placing reasonable limits on mega-constellation sizes or frequency allocations, and establishing internationally administered traffic management.
Encouragingly, discussions on space governance are intensifying, with scholars, agencies, and industry leaders proposing reforms. The next step is forging agreements that can be widely implemented — perhaps using COPUOS or the ITU as the primary forum. Involving emerging space nations and private operators alike would ensure that new standards reflect diverse interests. Ultimately, if the space domain is to remain open, safe, and peaceful, international law must evolve at a pace matching private innovation. Through collaboration and foresight, humanity can reap the rewards of commercial space systems without sacrificing long-term sustainability.
Starlink’s rise is, therefore, not just a test of technological might but a clarion call for global governance. Each satellite that ascends into orbit should bring with it a proportionate commitment to responsible conduct. By reinforcing cooperation and updating the legal framework, the world can guard against fragmented rules that might yield collisions — both physical and geopolitical — in the final frontier. With the right measures, corporate ventures can remain engines of progress rather than drivers of conflict, ensuring that space remains a truly shared domain for present and future generations.
