Outer space has changed from being a pristine arena for scientific exploration to a field where geopolitics, technology, and the projection of international power intersect. From navigation and battlefield awareness to large parts of civil communication, everything rests on satellites. The last decade marked not only a change in the density of that infrastructure but also in who builds it and shapes its rules. The entry of commercial players has blurred the distinction between civil and strategic space. Private entities with fewer bureaucratic traps move faster than politicians, and states find these entities instrumental in propelling their agenda. Legal order, evolved in a state-centric era, is now being used as a tool by whoever files first and launches fastest.
The result is fierce, and the contest is sharper. What was once an oligopolistic preserve of a few nations has now become a battleground. With the convergence of private speed and public demand, Private corporations are used as a façade by states to advance national agendas without overt loggerheads. A visible example is Starlink. One analysis in 2025 found that Elon Musk’s ventures had received at least $38 billion in government contracts, loans, subsidies and tax credits, often at critical moments and this sumptuous assistance has made him the world’s richest person. This symbiotic relationship between state and corporates magnifies asymmetry; nevertheless, it accelerates innovations.
Public-private convergence matters because technology now outpaces regulation. The Outer Space Treaty of 1967, drafted in the Cold War era, is silent on commercial exploitation, though it prohibits sovereignty claims. The everyday dependency of civilians on satellites orbiting the Earth around the clock was not envisioned when the Outer Space Treaty declared space the “province of all mankind” and barred national appropriation. The Treaty, the Rescue Agreement, the Liability Convention and the Registration Convention still form the formal spine of international space law. States remain responsible for activities in outer space, including those of non-governmental entities. The said laws related to outer space do not, however, allocate radio spectrum or orbital planes with the precision that the economy requires, and the International Telecommunication Union is a body responsible for it. In a geostationary orbit, a thin, valuable ring some 36,000 kilometres above the equator, the ITU framework allocates frequencies and orbital slots on a first‑come, first‑served basis. Nations like China have employed sophistry by filing for “paper satellites,” which are projects or satellites that exist only on paper to block competitors, exploiting ITU’s silence on the practice.
Early movers exploit these gaps, seize advantages, and later legitimize their actions when new rules, often prospectively applied, are enforced. Starlink’s deliberate focus on Low Earth Orbit (LEO) rather than Geostationary Orbit (GEO) is a masterstroke of this opportunism.
Considering the limited and politically congested slots in the GEO, with ample players already jostling each other, it was necessary to employ a ‘blue ocean’ strategy where the competition was least, and therefore Starlink selected Low Earth Orbit. LEO satellites do not sit still; consequently, they cannot be allotted as a fixed parking place in the same way as in GEO. But the real lure in LEO is lower latency, higher revisit, and the ability to scale by number rather than by unique slot. These qualities suit broadband, remote sensing, and time-sensitive military or emergency use. Starlink’s strategy was not only directed at choosing a less regulated firmament; it extended to crowding out others. As of September 2026, there are more than 11,000 Starlink satellites in orbit, out of roughly 13,000 launched since 2019, accounting for a large majority of all active satellites and many thousands more are in the pipeline. Here, quantity decides the fate of other players. A constellation that large changes the economics of collision avoidance, spectrum sharing and debris, and it raises the cost of entry for anyone who arrives late.
This is the structural point the older treaties did not predict. Law that is hazy, prospective and state- centric weighs in favour of those who act while the text is still elastic. When reforms arrive, they usually protect the incumbents. Developing and mid-tier spacefaring states then face a familiar sequence: they are told the domain is open; they discover that the usable orbits, frequencies and industrial learning curves have already been claimed; they are invited to accept “reform” written around the facts on orbit. Dependency follows not from a formal prohibition but from path dependence.
India, recognizing the global tide, opened its space sector to non-governmental players in 2020 through the creation of IN‑SPACe. Startups have swiftly garnered accolades, and the government envisions space entrepreneurship as a catalyst for economic growth, employment, and talent retention. A specialised industrial base can retain talent that would otherwise leave, and it can turn public intellectual property into private production at scale. Yet India’s real challenge is not to turn this enthusiasm into complacency. As rightly pointed out in Indian Space Policy 2023, private participation should complement, not substitute state investment in frontier technologies such as reusable launch systems, advanced propulsion, and next‑generation platforms that remain commercially unsustainable but strategically indispensable. However, India’s space policy must also anticipate the thumb rule of astropolitics; followers rarely receive recognition while leaders quietly shape the rules. A policy that only multiplies domestic players in already crowded LEO and GEO bands will produce companies; it will not necessarily produce leverage.
As GEO and LEO approach saturation, the spotlight shifts to Very Low Earth Orbit, which is a band 100–400 km above Earth. Despite its engineering challenges such as atmospheric drag, atomic oxygen, short lifetimes unless propulsion and materials improve, and the need for frequent replenishment being closer to the Earth, VLEO promises sharper imagery, faster communication, reduced latency, and efficient spectrum use. Debris in this region also decays faster, which is why some analysts call it a “self-cleaning” orbit. A 2024 Juniper research study projected that global investment in VLEO satellites could rise from about $17 billion that year to $220 billion by 2027. Other countries have already commenced preparations to enter VLEO; therefore, the strategic signal is clear: the window in which VLEO remains a “blue ocean” will not stay open.
India has a comparative advantage as it already manufactures small satellites at a cost and cadence that larger programmes often lack, but to dominate the VLEO India must focus its policy first on reusable and small launch systems in the private sector since the life of satellites in VLEO is shorter compared to LEO or GEO, second a convergence of Solar-array and power-system work into existing national solar and materials programmes rather than isolated as space‑exclusive projects, so that they directly support VLEO satellite missions. Third, necessary policy to enter into a partnership with like‑minded nations can amplify India’s voice in shaping norms for VLEO and beyond.Fourth, cutting-edge and time-bound research on the challenges in VLEO, such as Atmospheric drag modeling, de-orbit reliability, and thermal protection, and sharing intellectual property with private sector players at an affordable price in order to convert these challenges into commercially viable solutions.
None of this compels India to abandon the language of peaceful use or the legal duties it accepted under the UN space treaties. It requires honesty about what those treaties are silent on. Equitable access will not be delivered by self-restraint while others file, launch and set the coordination baseline. It will be delivered, if at all, by Indian systems that exist in orbit, Indian filings that are brought into use, and Indian industry that can replace a satellite as fast as drag takes it down.
The choice is therefore not between science and power but to understand a fact that science gives edge. The real choice is to set out a policy that treats exploration and industry as a single sequence. Countries that lag behind do not get equal opportunities just by asking. They end up with leftover orbits, leftover frequencies, and leftover supply chains. India has already welcomed private investment into space. The next step is deciding whether that money, along with public research, will be directed toward the altitudes where the future rules of space will be written in hardware.
