United States Military Space: 

Into the Twenty-First Century

Peter L. Hays 

INSS Occasional Paper 42 

2002 

USAF Institute for National Security Studies 

USAF Academy, Colorado 

and 

Air University Press 

Maxwell AFB, Alabama 
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iii

The views expressed in this paper are those of the author and do not 

necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Department of the Air 

Force, the Department of Defense, or the US Government. The paper is 

approved for public release; distribution is unlimited. 

******* 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lieutenant Colonel Peter L. Hays, US Air Force, 

currently serves as a professor of comparative military studies at the School 

of Advanced Airpower Studies, Maxwell AFB, Alabama. He leads seminars 

on air mobility, strategic airpower and national security, defense policy, 

innovation & security, and space & information power. Colonel Hays is 

coauthor of “Going Boldly—Where? Aerospace Integration, the Space 

Commission, and the Air Force’s Vision for Space,” (Aerospace Power 

Journal, Spring 2001); and is a contributing coeditor of Spacepower for a 

New Millennium: Space and U.S. National Security (McGraw-Hill, 2000). 

He previously served as director of INSS, division chief for international 

relations and defense policy in the department of political science at the 

USAF Academy, and as a staff augmentee at the White House Office of 

Science and Technology Policy and the National Space Council. Colonel 

Hays is a 1979 honor graduate of the USAF Academy, received an MA in 

Defense and Strategic Studies from the University of Southern California, 

and holds a PhD in international relations from the Fletcher School of Law 

and Diplomacy at Tufts University. 

Comments pertaining to this paper are invited; please forward to: 

 Director, USAF Institute for National Security Studies 

 HQ USAFA/DFES 

 2354 Fairchild Drive, Suite 5L27 

 USAF Academy, CO 80840 

 phone: 719-333-2717 

 fax: 719-333-2716 

 email: james.smith@usafa.af.mil 

Visit the Institute for National Security Studies home page at 

http://www.usafa.af.mil/inss
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TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Foreword vii 

Executive Summary ix 

WHAT IS SPACEPOWER AND DOES IT CONSTITUTE A 

REVOLUTION IN MILITARY AFFAIRS? 1

What is Spacepower? 1 

 Ways to Categorize Spacepower 2 

 Factors that Shape Our Perceptions of Spacepower 8 

Does Spacepower Constitute a Revolution in Military Affairs? 22 

 Military Implications of the Growth in Commercial 

 Space Activity 25 

Conclusion 30 

Notes 31 

SPACE-RELATED ARMS CONTROL AND REGULATION 

TO 2015: PRECEDENTS AND PROSPECTS 49 

Space Arms Control Precedents 53 

 Spysat Overflight Regime 54 

 Comsat Regulatory Regime 59 

 The Outer Space Treaty Regime 65 

 The ABMT Regime and Space-Based Defenses 72 

 ASAT Developments and ASAT Arms Control 82 

 Recent Space-Related Arms Control Developments 94 

Contentious Areas for Space-Related Arms Control and 

 Regulation to 2015 97 

 Space Weaponization 98 

 High-Altitude Nuclear Detonations (HAND) 101 

 High-Resolution Commercial Remote Sensing 103 

 Global Utilities 109 

 Spectrum Crowding, Orbital Debris, and Space Traffic Control 111 

Conclusion 113 

Notes 115 
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FOREWORD 

We are pleased to publish this forty-second volume in the Occasional 

Paper series of the United States Air Force Institute for National Security 

Studies (INSS). Lieutenant Colonel Pete Hays, a former Director of INSS, 

presents two very timely, rigorously researched and documented, and 

important papers on United States military space. We present them together 

as representing a range of related issues and imperatives for military space 

policy and development. 

The first paper, “What is Spacepower and Does It Constitute a 

Revolution in Military Affairs?,” examines the concept of “spacepower” as it 

is emerging within the United States military and business sectors to 

establish the basis for military space roles and implications. It also posits 

military-commercial sector linkages as the best near-term roadmap for future 

development. As commercial activities expand the importance of United 

States space, and as technological advances enable military missions, Hays 

sees expanded military roles, including space weaponization, on the horizon. 

He concludes that military space has already had significant impact on the 

“American way of war.” That trend will only continue as the promise of a 

true space-led revolution in military affairs awaits eventual space 

weaponization. 

Given an increasingly important United States commercial and military 

presence in space, the second paper, “Space-Related Arms Control and 

Regulation to 2015: Precedents and Prospects,” presents a detailed analysis 

of existing regulation and controls that constrain and shape military space use 

and development. It also presents a comprehensive examination of current 

and future issues that will define likely arenas of international efforts to 

further control military space. The United States must be very aware of the 

possible consequences for our overall commercial and military space efforts 

in addressing these issues. Finally, the paper suggests areas where some 

current regulatory emphasis could benefit the United States, indicating areas 

for current policy emphasis. Together, the two papers provide a timely and 

important examination of the current state and the likely future of United 

States military space, and they raise concerns that must be understood and 

factored into United States policy planning and space development. 

About the Institute

INSS is primarily sponsored by the National Security Policy Division, 

Nuclear and Counterproliferation Directorate, Headquarters US Air Force 

(HQ USAF/XONP) and the Dean of the Faculty, USAF Academy. Our other 

sponsors currently include the Air Staff’s Intelligence, Surveillance, and 
viii

Reconnaissance Directorate (XOI) and the Air Force's 39th and 23rd 

Information Operations Squadrons; the Secretary of Defense’s Office of Net 

Assessment (OSD/NA); the Defense Threat Reduction Agency; the Army 

Environmental Policy Institute; and the Air Force Long-Range Plans 

Directorate (XPXP). The research leading to the papers in this volume was 

sponsored by OSD/NA, DTRA, and XONP. The mission of the Institute is 

“to promote national security research for the Department of Defense within 

the military academic community, and to support the Air Force national 

security education program.” Its research focuses on the areas of greatest 

interest to our organizational sponsors: arms control, proliferation, aerospace 

planning and policy, information operations, and regional and emerging 

issues in national security. 

INSS coordinates and focuses outside thinking in various disciplines and 

across the military services to develop new ideas for defense policy making. 

To that end, the Institute develops topics, selects researchers from within the 

military academic community, and administers sponsored research. It also 

hosts conferences and workshops and facilitates the dissemination of 

information to a wide range of private and government organizations. INSS 

provides valuable, cost-effective research to meet the needs of our sponsors. 

We appreciate your continued interest in INSS and our research products. 

About this Publication

This Occasional Paper represents a test publication in cooperation 

between INSS and the Air University (AU) Press. We hope to solidify longterm cooperation between INSS and the AU Press as it continues to serve 

USAF-wide interests. 

JAMES M. SMITH 

 Director 
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WHAT IS SPACEPOWER AND DOES IT CONSTITUTE A 

REVOLUTION IN MILITARY AFFAIRS? 

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY 

This paper attempts to answer the first question in its title by examining 

ways to describe and categorize space activities. It examines the second 

question by using analogies between previous revolutions in military affairs 

and spacepower. The paper describes three ways to describe spacepower: 1) 

space activity sectors (civil, commercial, intelligence, and defense); 2) 

military space mission areas (space support, force enhancement, space 

control, and force application); and 3) Lupton’s four military space doctrines 

(sanctuary, survivability, control, and high-ground). It also discusses 

different ways to view space: as an economic center of gravity and a global 

utility, in terms of seapower and airpower analogies, as a frontier, and in 

terms of religious implications and the Overview Effect. The paper uses the 

revolution in military affairs (RMA) definition developed by the Center for 

Strategic and Budgetary Assessments and argues that spacepower will not 

represent a true RMA until space is weaponized. For the near-term, the links 

between spacepower and the commercial space sector should be studied most 

carefully because these linkages will point to how the military can best use 

commercial space assets and also highlight the areas where it will require 

dedicated military systems. Although space is not an economic center of 

gravity today, it may emerge as one in the coming decades. It is less clear, 

however, that traditional “flag follows trade” arguments will lead to an 

increased military space presence or provide the best way to protect space 

assets. Looking beyond just economic considerations, there appear to be a 

growing number of strategic factors that are creating pressure for increased 

militarization and probably weaponization of space. To date, military space 

developments have been very important, but they have been more 

evolutionary than revolutionary. As current political and technological 

challenges are surmounted, however, it is likely that space—like every other 

environment humankind has opened—will become weaponized and will 

emerge as a true RMA. 
x

SPACE-RELATED ARMS CONTROL AND REGULATION TO 2015: 

PRECEDENTS AND PROSPECTS 

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY 

This essay discusses the five most important precedents in space-related 

arms control and regulation in considerable detail: the reconnaissance 

satellite overflight regime, the communications satellite regulatory regime, 

the Outer Space Treaty regime, the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty regime and 

space-based defenses, and anti-satellite (ASAT) developments and ASAT 

arms control. It also outlines the space-related parts of START I and II, the 

most recent arms control treaties. Finally, the essay discusses five spacerelated areas that contain significant conflict today and are likely to remain 

contentious into the future: space weaponization; high-altitude nuclear 

detonations; high-resolution commercial remote sensing; global utilities; and 

spectrum crowding, orbital debris, and space traffic control. From the 

precedents in space arms control three major themes stand out: space is 

seldom a stand-alone policy consideration, the truisms that “arms are always 

controlled in a democracy” and “arms control works best when it’s needed 

least,” and the large number of extreme difficulties for space-related arms 

control. When examining the contentious areas for space arms control 

through 2015, the essay finds that there are at least four entrenched camps 

within the United States—space hawks, inevitable weaponizers, 

militarization realists, and space doves—and this is likely to make it very 

difficult for the United States to advance major arms control initiatives on 

space weaponization for the foreseeable future. Likewise, the United States 

either faces daunting political and technical challenges or would simply be 

wise to take a measured approach to arms control or regulation for a number 

of related issues such as high-resolution commercial remote sensing, global 

utilities, spectrum crowding, and space traffic control. Opportunities for 

arms control and regulation in these areas should be studied very carefully, 

balanced evenly in relation to their costs and benefits for the four space 

sectors, and weighed against both their opportunity costs and likely 

unintended consequences. One near-term opportunity for space-related arms 

control and regulation may be the proposed “spaceworthiness license”—a 

way to create incentives for the commercial sector to harden satellites against 

nuclear effects and to minimize orbital debris. 
WHAT IS SPACEPOWER AND DOES IT CONSTITUTE A 

REVOLUTION IN MILITARY AFFAIRS? 

A confluence of trends and recent developments has elevated national 

security space issues close to the top of the American defense policy agenda. 

During 2000, national security space issues were carefully examined in three 

of the most important congressionally mandated studies ever convened on 

this subject: The National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) Commission, the 

National Imagery and Mapping Agency (NIMA) Commission, and the 

Commission to Assess National Security Space Management and 

Organization (Space Commission).1

 These studies—along with the arrival of 

the George W. Bush Administration; the installation of Donald H. Rumsfeld 

as Secretary of Defense; and ongoing sweeping changes in senior military 

leadership positions including General Richard B. Myers as the new 

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General John P. Jumper as the new 

Chief of Staff of the Air Force, and General Lance W. Lord in the new fourstar billet as commander of Air Force Space Command—create an 

outstanding opportunity to examine current national security space issues and 

to place them into a broader context. Accordingly, this paper attempts to 

outline answers to two fundamental questions concerning the relationship 

between space and national security: 1) what is spacepower? and 2) does 

spacepower constitute a revolution in military affairs? 

WHAT IS SPACEPOWER? 

“Spacepower” is literally a cosmic concept that is complex, 

indeterminate, and intangible. It is pregnant with a range of possibilities but 

it means so many different things to different people and groups that the 

concept is fraught with ambiguity. Confusion swirls on the semantic level 

because there is no commonly accepted definition or accepted wording for 

this concept.2

 There is not even agreement on basic issues such as where the 

atmosphere ends and space begins.3

 Yet, despite these weaknesses in the 

conceptual foundation for spacepower, a strong and widespread recognition 

of the growing importance of space to national security has developed. 

Indeed, this is a central theme in much of the recent literature such as the 

Space Commission Report, Barry D. Watts’ The Military Use of Space, 

Steven Lambakis’ On the Edge of Earth, Everett C. Dolman’s Astropolitik 

and Robert Preston’s Space Weapons: Earth Wars.

4

 In addition, spacepower 

has figured very prominently in several of the most recent Title X wargames 

conducted by the U.S. Army and Air Force.5
SPACEPOWER 

2

This paper highlights the emerging consensus on space’s growing 

importance but takes a wide-ranging perspective on the attributes that 

comprise spacepower, sees the elements of spacepower as interrelated and 

multidimensional, and emphasizes that the determinants of space’s strategic 

utility go beyond just international military competition. It first looks at 

ways to categorize spacepower such as space activity sectors, military space 

mission areas, and David Lupton’s four military space doctrines. Then, it 

examines a broad range of factors that shape our perceptions of space. 

Throughout, it argues that economic factors now shape spacepower in 

fundamental ways, primarily due to rapid growth in commercial space 

activities and the inherently dual-use nature of many space systems. 

Ways to Categorize Spacepower 

Space Activity Sectors. The attributes of spacepower are often 

described using four sectors of space activity: civil, commercial, military, 

and intelligence.6

 The Space Commission Report provides an outstanding, 

current, and comprehensive overview of the types of activities that are 

contained in each sector and how they contribute to national security: 

Civil Space Sector. The civil space sector is approaching a long-standing 

goal of a permanent manned presence in space with the deployment of 

astronauts to the International Space Station. The U.S. has shouldered 

the largest share of development and funding for this effort. Because it is 

an international program, however, its benefits for scientific research, 

experimentation and commercial processes will be widely shared. The 

number of countries able to participate in manned space flight has grown 

substantially. In addition to the U.S. and the USSR (now the Russian 

Federation), 21 other countries have sent astronauts into orbit in U.S. and 

Russian spacecraft. The People’s Republic of China has announced its 

intention to become the third nation to place human beings in orbit and 

return them safely to earth. Other research and experiments in the civil 

sector have many applications to human activity. For example, civil 

space missions to understand the effects of the sun on the earth, other 

planets and the space between them, such as those conducted by the 

Solar Terrestrial Probe missions, will help in the development of more 

advanced means to predict weather on earth. 

Commercial Space Sector. Unlike the earlier space era, in which 

governments drove activity in space, in this new era certain space 

applications, such as communications, are being driven by the 
HAYS 

3

commercial sector. An international space industry has developed, with 

revenues exceeding $80 billion in 2000. Industry forecasts project 

revenues will more than triple in the next decade. Whereas satellite 

system manufacturing once defined the market, the growth of the space 

industry today, and its hallmark in the future, will be space-based 

services. The space industry is marked by stiff competition among 

commercial firms to secure orbital locations for satellites and to secure 

the use of radio frequencies to exploit a global market for goods and 

services provided by those satellites. International consortia are pursuing 

many space enterprises, so ascertaining the national identity of a firm is 

increasingly complex. The calculations of financial investors in the 

industry and consumer buying habits are dominated by time to market, 

cost and price, quantity and quality. It is a volatile market. 

Nevertheless, as a result of the competition in goods and services, 

new applications for space-based systems continue to be developed, the 

use of those products is increasing and their market value is growing. 

Space-based technology is revolutionizing major aspects of commercial 

and social activity and will continue to do so as the capacity and 

capabilities of satellites increase through emerging technologies. Space 

enters homes, businesses, schools, hospitals and government offices 

through its applications for transportation, health, the environment, 

telecommunications, education, commerce, agriculture and energy. 

Space-based technologies and services permit people to 

communicate, companies to do business, civic groups to serve the public 

and scientists to conduct research. Much like highways and airways, 

water lines and electric grids, services supplied from space are already an 

important part of the U.S. and global infrastructures. The most telling 

feature of the new space age is that the commercial revolution in space 

has eliminated the exclusive control of space once enjoyed by national 

defense, intelligence and government agencies. For only a few thousand 

dollars, a customer today can purchase a photograph of an area on earth 

equal in quality to those formerly available only to the superpowers 

during the Cold War. Commercial providers can complement the 

photographic images with data that identify the location and type of 

foliage in an area and provide evidence of recent activity there. They can 

produce radar-generated maps with terrain elevations, transmit this 

information around the globe and combine all of it into formats most 

useful to the customer. This service is of increasing value to farmers and 

ranchers, fisherman and miners, city planners and scientists. 
SPACEPOWER 

4

Defense Space Sector. Space-related capabilities help national leaders to 

implement American foreign policy and, when necessary, to use military 

power in ways never before possible. Today, information gathered from 

and transmitted through space is an integral component of American 

military strategy and operations. Space-based capabilities enable 

military forces to be warned of missile attacks, to communicate 

instantaneously, to obtain near real-time information that can be 

transmitted rapidly from satellite to attack platform, to navigate to a 

conflict area while avoiding hostile defenses along the way, and to 

identify and strike targets from air, land or sea with precise and 

devastating effect. This permits U.S. leaders to manage even distant 

crises with fewer forces because those forces can respond quickly and 

operate effectively over longer ranges. Because of space capabilities, the 

U.S. is better able to sustain and extend deterrence to its allies and 

friends in our highly complex international environment. Space is not 

simply a place from which information is acquired and transmitted or 

through which objects pass. It is a medium much the same as air, land or 

sea. In the coming period, the U.S. will conduct operations to, from, in 

and through space in support of its national interests both on earth and in 

space. As with national capabilities in the air, on land and at sea, the 

U.S. must have the capabilities to defend its space assets against hostile 

acts and to negate the hostile use of space against U.S. interests. 

Intelligence Space Sector. Intelligence collected from space remains 

essential to the mission of the Intelligence Community, as it has been 

since the early 1960s. Then the need to gain access to a hostile, denied 

area, the USSR, drove the development of space-based intelligence 

collection. The need for access to denied areas persists. In addition, the 

U.S. Intelligence Community is required to collect information on a wide 

variety of subjects in support of U.S. global security policy. The 

Intelligence Community and the Department of Defense deploy satellites 

to provide global communications capabilities; verify treaties through 

“national technical means”; conduct photoreconnaissance; collect 

mapping, charting, geodetic, scientific and environmental data; and 

gather information on natural or man-made disasters. The U.S. also 

collects signals intelligence and measurement and signature intelligence 

from space. This intelligence is essential to the formulation of foreign 

and defense policies, the capacity of the President to manage crises and 

conflicts, the conduct of military operations and the development of 

military capabilities to assure the attainment of U.S. objectives.7
HAYS 

5

Military Space Mission Areas. Another important typology for 

describing spacepower was first adopted by the U.S. military in the 1980s 

and still provides a foundational and consistent framework to categorize the 

military missions that contribute to spacepower.8

 Under this typology, space 

support is a very broad category that contains all activities that enable 

military space mission accomplishment. Space support includes the 

development and acquisition of all military space hardware and software; all 

the infrastructure required to launch, track, and command military space 

systems; and all the personnel and the education and training systems 

required to sustain military space activities. Force enhancement is the 

primary emphasis of today’s military space forces. This mission refers to all 

military space activities that help to increase the warfighting effectiveness of 

terrestrial forces and is sometimes referred to as “space support to the 

warfighter.” Force enhancement is further divided into the following areas: 

geodesy, weather, communications, navigation, early warning and attack 

Table 1: Force Enhancement Mission Areas, Primary Orbits, 

and Associated Space Systems9

Geodesy Meteorology Communications Navigation Early 

Warning and 

Attack 

Assessment 

Surveillance and 

Reconnaissance 

LowEarth 

Orbit 

(LEO) 

Polar LEO Geostationary 

Orbit (GSO) 

Semisynchronous 

Orbit 

GSO and 

LEO 

Polar LEO and 

GSO 

Landsat Defense 

Meteorological 

Support 

Program 

(DMSP), 

National PolarOrbiting 

Operational 

Environmental 

Satellite 

System 

(NPOESS) 

Defense Satellite 

Communications 

System (DSCS) 

II, DSCS III, 

Ultra-High 

Frequency 

Follow-on 

(UFO), Milstar, 

Global Broadcast 

System (GBS), 

Advanced 

Extremely High 

Frequency 

(AEHF), 

Wideband 

Gapfiller Satellite 

(WGS) 

Global 

Positioning 

System 

(GPS) 

Defense 

Support 

Program 

(DSP), GPS, 

Space-Based 

Infra-Red 

System 

(SBIRS) 

High and 

Low 

Keyhole (KH) 

Series, Signals 

Intelligence 

(SIGINT) 

Satellites, Future 

Imagery 

Architecture 

(FIA), 

Integrated 

Overhead 

SIGINT 

Architecture 

(IOSA) 
SPACEPOWER 

6

assessment, and surveillance and reconnaissance. Table 1 lists current and 

near-term space systems most closely associated with each of these six 

mission areas. There is widespread consensus on the elements that constitute 

these two military space mission areas and general agreement that the United 

States should perform these types of missions from space. 

By contrast, there is much less consensus on the types of functions that 

would be required for space control and force application or on the need for 

the U.S. military to perform such missions. Space control, refers to “the 

ability to assure access to space, freedom of operations within the space 

medium, and an ability to deny others the use of space, if required.”10 The 

use of anti-satellite (ASAT) weapons is one commonly discussed space 

control mission, but a wide range of missions—including conventional or 

unconventional attacks on terrestrial telemetry, tracking, and controlling 

(TT&C) facilities—would also fall into the space control area. The final 

category, Force application is usually defined as the use of military force to, 

from, or within space where the primary objective is to affect the course of 

terrestrial conflict directly. Space-based ballistic missile defense (BMD) is 

often discussed as the most important near-term force application mission. 

Most military space activities fit into one of these four categories and, of 

course, most of today’s military space activities are in the first two 

categories: space support and force enhancement. 

Lupton’s Four Military Space Doctrines. The four military space 

doctrines developed by David Lupton in On Space Warfare provide an 

important and comprehensive way to analyze the strategic rationale behind 

military space activities (they are summarized in Table 2 below).11 The 

sanctuary doctrine builds on President Dwight Eisenhower’s concepts of 

“open skies” and “space for peaceful purposes” by emphasizing that space 

systems are ideal for monitoring military activity, providing early warning to 

reduce the likelihood of surprise attack, and serving as National Technical 

Means of Verification (NTMV) to enable and enforce strategic arms control. 

The basic tenet of the sanctuary doctrine is that space surveillance systems 

make nuclear wars less likely. Sanctuary doctrine is closely linked to 

deterrence theory and the assumption that no meaningful defense against 

nuclear attack by ballistic missiles is possible. Sanctuary doctrine advocates 

believe that overflight and remote sensing enhance stability and that space 

must be kept a weapons-free zone to protect the critical contributions of 

space surveillance systems to global security. Survivability, Lupton’s 

second space doctrine, emphasizes broad utility for military space systems, 

not only at the strategic level emphasized in the sanctuary doctrine, but also 

at the tactical level of space support to the warfighter that has emerged as the 

most important force enhancement mission since the end of the Cold War. 
HAYS 

7

Table 2: Attributes of Military Space Doctrines 

Primary Value 

and Functions of 

Military Space 

Forces 

Space System 

Characteristics 

and Employment 

Strategies 

Conflict Missions 

of Space Forces 

Appropriate 

Military 

Organization 

for 

Operations 

and 

Advocacy 

Sanctuary • Enhance 

Strategic 

Stability 

• Facilitate 

Arms Control 

• Limited 

Numbers 

• Fragile 

Systems 

• Vulnerable 

Orbits 

• Optimized for 

NTMV 

mission 

• Limited NRO 

Survivability Above functions 

plus: 

• Force 

Enhancement 

• Force 

Enhancement 

• Degrade 

Gracefully 

Major 

Command or 

Unified 

Command 

Control • Control Space 

• Significant 

Force 

Enhancement 

• Control Space 

• Significant 

Force 

Enhancement 

• Surveillance, 

Offensive, and 

Defensive 

Counterspace 

Unified 

Command or 

Space Force 

High Ground Above functions 

plus: 

• Decisive 

Impact on 

Terrestrial 

Conflict 

• BMD 

• Redundancy 

• Hardening 

• On-Orbit 

Spares 

• Crosslinks 

• Maneuver 

• Less 

Vulnerable 

Orbits 

• Stealth 

• Reconstitution 

Capability 

• Defense 

• Convoy 

Above functions 

plus: 

• Decisive 

Space-to-Space 

and Space-toEarth Force 

Application 

• BMD 

Space Force 

The survivability doctrine also differs from the sanctuary doctrine because it 

highlights space system vulnerabilities and questions whether space can be 

maintained as a sanctuary due to ongoing technological improvements in 

systems such as ASAT weapons. Lupton’s control doctrine is analogous to 

military thinking about sea or air control and asserts the need for control of 

space in order to apply spacepower most effectively. Thus, the control 

doctrine sees space as similar to other military environments and argues that 

both commercial activities and military requirements dictate the need for 
SPACEPOWER 

8

space surveillance, as well as offensive and defensive counterspace 

capabilities. Lupton’s final doctrine, high ground, argues that space is the 

dominant theater of military operations and is capable of affecting terrestrial 

conflict in decisive ways. As a primary example of such capability, the highground doctrine points to the potential of space-based BMD to overturn the 

dominance of offensive strategic nuclear forces. 

Factors that Shape Our Perceptions of Spacepower 

A number of less tangible factors, including some that are not directly 

related to national security, may also help to shape our perceptions of 

spacepower in more subtle yet important ways. Due to the rapid growth of 

the commercial space sector during the last decade, economic considerations 

such as whether space has become an economic center of gravity and its role 

as a global utility are now key factors in shaping our perceptions about 

spacepower. As discussed below, other major factors that shape our 

perception of spacepower include seapower and airpower analogies, the 

frontier analogy, and the overview effect. 

Space as an Economic Center of Gravity and a Global Utility. The 

most important set of factors that shape our perceptions of spacepower relate 

to the growing commercial importance of space, claims that it constitutes an 

economic center of gravity (COG), and its emergence as a global utility. 

Perceptions on the importance of these factors vary considerably but they 

nonetheless became a central theme in United States Space Command’s 

(USSPACECOM) public discourse during the latter half of the 1990s. This 

emphasis was most pronounced during the tenure of General Howell M. 

Estes as Commander-in-Chief of USSPACECOM (CINCSPACE); continued 

during the tour of General Richard B. Myers; but, interestingly, has not been 

repeated thus far by General Ralph E. Eberhart, the current CINCSPACE. 

The increased use of the term COG to describe the commercial space sector 

coincided with rapid actual growth in commercial space activities in this 

period but it was predicated even more directly on projections of exponential 

growth. Forecasts during 1997 and 1998 called for growth at a “blistering 

rate of 20 percent a year” to support a “gold rush in space.”12

550 satellites today are in Earth orbit, performing numerous 

critical defense and civil functions. Nearly half of them 

belong to the US, and half of those are commercial. US 

space investment now exceeds $100 billion, and the stakes 

are about to go higher. 
HAYS 

9

Expectations are that the US and the world’s other 

spacefaring nations, over the next five years, will pump 

another $500 billion into space. They will launch at least 

1,000, and possibly 1,500, new satellites. Most will be 

commercial systems. Many will have military significance. 

“We’ll see commercial use of space go out of sight,” said 

USAF’s Chief of Staff, Gen. Michael E. Ryan.13

General Estes developed and articulated one of the most powerful visions 

for space of any CINCSPACE to date. Early in his tenure (August 1996-

August 1998) he began emphasizing the emergence of space as an economic 

COG at virtually every opportunity. In one of his earliest and most sweeping 

speeches, delivered at the United States Space Foundation’s annual 

symposium in April 1997, he introduced several major themes he would 

reiterate in speeches and in reports during the remainder of his term: 

Today, more than ever, it is important that all Americans 

understand that our investment in space is rapidly growing 

and soon will be of such magnitude that it will be considered 

a vital interest—on par with how we value oil today. . . . 

Now while it might seem appropriate that I should be more 

concerned with military space, I must tell you that it is not 

the future of military space that is critical to the United 

States—it is the continued commercial development of space 

that will provide continued strength critical for our great 

country in the decades ahead. Military space, while 

important, will follow. 

Commercial space, as I said earlier, will become an 

economic center of gravity, in my opinion, in the future and 

as such will be a great source of strength for the United 

States and other nations in the world. As such, this strength 

will also become a weakness, a vulnerability. And it’s here 

that the U.S. military will play an important role, for we will 

be expected to protect this new source of economic 

strength.14
SPACEPOWER 

10

Space as an economic COG was also an important theme in the Long Range 

Plan, the most important report USSPACECOM released during General 

Estes’ tenure: 

Space capabilities are becoming absolutely essential for 

military operations, national commerce, and everyday life. 

In fact, space is emerging as a military and economic center 

of gravity for our information-dependent forces, businesses, 

and society. Life on earth is becoming inextricably linked to 

space. . . . 

Although the notion of space as a sanctuary appears 

seductive to many, our increasing reliance on space systems, 

and information derived from space, creates a center of 

gravity potential adversaries clearly understand. Protection 

takes on a new dimension as non-DoD systems (commercial 

and third-party) become even more integrated into plans for 

using joint forces.15

General Estes linked his vision of a growing commercial space sector as 

a burgeoning economic COG directly to the assumption that this growth 

would prompt calls for an increased military role in protecting “this new 

source of economic strength.” The logic of this “flag follows trade” 

argument is clear and has historical precedents but to date it has not yet 

prompted any significant calls for better protection.16 If anything, the general 

attitude of the commercial space industry has thus far minimized threats to 

their systems and denied the need for better military protection.17 It is 

currently unclear that military means are the best way to protect commercial 

satellites or that the military will be called upon to build a more robust space 

infrastructure based on perceived threats to commercial systems. 

Despite the industry’s tepid response, the Air Force continued to 

emphasize the flag follows trade route to a greater military space presence. 

General Estes was an influential member of the Air Force’s General Officer 

“Board of Directors” that agreed following a CORONA meeting in 

November 1996 to issue Global Engagement—a sweeping new vision 

statement for the Air Force. This statement corresponded closely with his 

perception of the importance of space to the nation and asserted that the Air 

Force is “now transitioning from an air force into an air and space force on 

an evolutionary path to a space and air force.”18 In a related bureaucratic 

move, General Estes also attempted to have space designated as an “area of 

responsibility” (AOR) similar to the AORs assigned to regional commands 
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by the Unified Command Plan (UCP). As a result, CINCSPACE was 

designated as the single focal point for all military space operations, but the 

1998 UCP stopped short of his recommendation to make space a dedicated 

AOR.19 After retiring, General Estes became even more outspoken in his 

assessments, “declaring that anyone who does not believe that space is 

emerging as ‘an economic center of gravity for our country . . . [is] not 

paying attention’ to what is going on. ‘It is a fact—lots and lots of money 

[is] going to space worldwide and lots of investment in this country.’”20

General Richard B. Myers, General Estes’ successor as CINCSPACE, 

was confirmed as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 2001. He served 

as CINCSPACE from July 1998 until February 2000 when he became Vice 

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. General Myers generally reiterated 

General Estes’ emphasis on space as an economic COG but added three 

important changes: first, that space was already a COG; second, that space 

was a military and economic COG; and third, that United States reliance on 

commercial space had created vulnerabilities easily exploited by potential 

adversaries. One of his first pronouncements along these lines came in Los 

Angeles at the Air Force Association Space Symposium in November 1998: 

“space has become a military and economic center of gravity. So much of the 

world’s standard of living, so much of its commercial wealth depends on 

space.”21 Later in his tenure, General Myers put more emphasis on how U.S. 

reliance on commercial space was creating new vulnerabilities: “Clearly, our 

reliance on commercial space has created a new center of gravity that can 

easily be exploited by our adversaries.”22 Just before leaving his 

CINCSPACE tour, General Myers summarized his position and emphasized 

the importance of space control in an editorial for Aviation Week & Space 

Technology: 

Space is a military and economic center of gravity. We can’t 

afford to take it for granted. Only through a robust space 

control and modernization vision can we thwart military or 

terrorist attacks, and manage the space “gold rush,” while 

continuing to reap tremendous benefit, both in economic and 

national security terms.23

The current CINCSPACE, General Ralph E. Eberhart, assumed his 

position in February 2000. In his speeches and reports thus far he has usually 

avoided using the term COG to describe the economic and military 

importance of space and, in general, he has not placed as much emphasis on 

the growth and importance of the commercial space sector as did his 

predecessors. General Eberhart’s approach reflects the recent slowdown in 
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commercial space, gave some support to the Air Force’s emphasis on the 

aerospace concept and aerospace integration in its June 2000 vision 

statement, Global Vigilance, Reach & Power, and is in line with the major 

recommendations in the Space Commission report.24 The Air Force’s 2000 

vision statement attempted to move the Service “Back to the Future” by 

returning to “aerospace” (a concept originally articulated by Chief of Staff 

Thomas D. White in the 1950s) and abandoning the separate “air and space” 

construct that was introduced in June 1992 and emphasized in the November 

1996 Global Engagement vision.25 Instead, General Eberhart has stressed 

personnel issues such as retention problems; the command’s efforts to come 

to grips with its newest missions, computer network defense (CND) and 

computer network attack (CNA); and, especially, the need for space 

control.26 He also recommended the formation of a Space Tactical School to 

“develop space warfare concepts” and has created the “Space Aggressor 

Squadron, whose job it is to play against the Air Force and other services in 

wargames such as Red Flag and to heighten both military and civilian 

awareness of the threat[.]”27 One of the best illustrations of these subtle 

changes in emphasis came in General Eberhart’s November 2000 interview 

in Aviation Week & Space Technology: 

Integration has been exactly the right thing to concentrate on 

these last 5-10 years, as we tried to harness the national 

systems post-[Operation] Desert Storm. . . . The fact that we 

heard so much about [the need for integration] after Desert 

Storm, and didn’t after Kosovo, tells me that we’re on the 

right track. Now, we need to make sure we can protect the 

capabilities that resulted from that integration. . . . I don’t 

think we would be good stewards of space if we only 

thought about ‘integration.’ We also need to be spending 

resources and intellectual capital on space control and space 

superiority. . . . The importance of space control and space 

superiority will continue to grow as our economy become 

more reliant on space. . . . If we only look at space in terms 

of ‘integration,’ in my view, we’ll fall into the same trap we 

fell into with the airplane. . . . We [initially] thought of it in 

terms of intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, 

communication and weather [support]. If we only think of 

space in these ways, [it’s just] a ‘higher hill’ as opposed to a 

center-of-gravity. We [also] have to be able to surveil, 

protect and negate under this space control mission.28
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But is commercial space truly an economic COG for the United States? 

More than most, commercial space is a volatile industry that been through 

several boom and bust cycles and has often delivered less than promised. It 

is also highly complex because it is closely tied not only to economic cycles 

but also to many other factors such as technological developments, 

international politics, and domestic regulation. USSPACECOM’s assertions 

during 1997-99 that space is an economic COG were made based on 

projections drawn from the commercial space sector’s strongest ever growth 

cycle. The “gold rush” mentality of firms seeking competitive niches in the 

communications spectrum or in specific markets reinforced perceptions that 

commercial space would remain in a cycle of continuing upward 

acceleration. The resulting projections too often relied on best-case scenarios 

rather than more somber economic analysis and they also suffered from the 

lack of an objective and timely overall market survey. Analysts currently 

have far better insight into these issues due to the slower actual development 

of the markets over of time and the Futron Corporation’s new annual 

Satellite Industry Guide helps to address the later problem.29 Futron’s guide, 

based on their proprietary database and published in partnership with the 

Satellite Industry Association and George Washington University’s Space 

Policy Institute, uses a “consistent and reliable set of industry metrics based 

on primary research data” to provide a comprehensive survey of where the 

industry has been and where it is heading.30

Space activities clearly enhance and enable many economic activities; 

space should undoubtedly be considered a strategic sector of the global 

information infrastructure and the world economy. Using the Futron data to 

analyze the current status and trends of the commercial space sector, 

however, one overarching conclusion immediately jumps out: as of the end 

of 2000, commercial space activity simply did not develop in the directions 

and magnitude projected as recently as two years ago. Despite the significant 

growth of the commercial space sector in the second half of the 1990s, the 

trajectory of actual developments fell significantly short of the projected 

vector ($500 billion investment and 1000-1500 launches by 2003) that had 

been touted in forecasts as late as the end of 1998. 

Where does the commercial space sector fall within the big picture 

context of the overall U.S. economy? Aerospace corporations form an 

important part of the economy but in pure dollar terms they—like any other 

single industry—are simply not a dominant sector or an economic COG in 

terms of overall value, revenues, or market capitalization. The main reason 

for this is the huge size of the U.S. gross domestic product (GNP). The 

Commerce Department estimated the 2000 U.S. GDP at $9.873 trillion, a 

value that dwarfs the value of any individual sector.31 Anyone watching the 
SPACEPOWER 

14

financial markets during the past several years knows that revenues and 

market valuations are highly volatile; but, while growing, space-only 

revenues and valuations have never yet been that big a part of the U.S. 

economy at any time or under any classification scheme. Consider revenues: 

the 2001 Fortune Magazine list of the top 500 U.S. corporations by revenue 

does show a scattering of aerospace companies among the top 100 firms—

Boeing at number 15, Motorola at 34, United Technologies at 64, Lockheed 

Martin at 69, Honeywell at 71, and the AMR Corporation at 98.32 But this 

listing reflects all revenues for these firms rather than their space-only 

revenues. When the space-only revenues are examined the picture becomes 

quite different. According to the Space Commission Report, global

commercial space activities generated a total of $80 billion in revenues in 

2000, and while this is clearly a lot of money in absolute terms, it represents 

only 8.9 percent of the revenues of just the top five U.S. corporations (Exxon 

Mobil, Wal-Mart, General Motors, Ford Motor, and General Electric) from 

the Fortune 500 list for 2001.33 

Should we consider commercial space “on par with how we value oil 

today”? Space is not there yet in dollar terms: the total revenues of energy 

corporations from the Fortune 500 list for 2001 was more than three times 

the value of the revenues from aerospace corporations.34 But how about the 

market valuation of space corporations? At the end of 1999 the combined 

market valuation for all major U.S. aerospace firms (Boeing, Honeywell, 

United Technologies, General Dynamics, Textron, Lockheed Martin, 

Raytheon, TRW, Northrop Grumman, and Litton Industries) amounted to 

approximately $150 billion but was still less than the market valuation of 

Home Depot Corporation.35 The intent of all these comparisons is not to 

depreciate the importance of commercial space activities; rather, they are 

designed to show that commercial space activities do not yet constitute a 

COG for the economies of the United States or the world. The comparisons 

also help to illuminate the true strategic utility of commercial space activities 

and highlight that these activities should be thought about and valued in a 

variety of ways other than just in terms of economics. 

Despite the relatively small size of commercial space in comparison with 

the whole U.S. economy, it is nonetheless a vibrant sector that had grown 

very rapidly prior to the current recession and is still creating novel 

commercial activities. A few statistics and trends illustrate the overall state 

of the commercial space sector. During the period from 1996 through 2000, 

for example, global commercial space revenues rose 85 percent, going from 

$44.8 billion to $83 billion; and total employment rose 46 percent, from 

173,400 to 253,600.36 Likewise, from 1996 to 1998 the total number of 

satellites launched each year (both commercial and non-commercial) 
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rocketed up 80 percent from 86 to 155.37 In retrospect, however, 1998 

represents a spike in launch numbers that was clearly caused by a major push 

to populate big non-geostationary orbit (big NGSO) constellations such as 

Iridium and Globalstar with relatively small networked comsats. It is unclear 

whether this pattern will be repeated due to the cloudy prospects for future 

big NGSO systems and the larger number of satellites that may be carried per 

launch on future systems. Total launches declined 42 percent to 90 total in 

1999 and declined roughly another 15 percent in 2000.38 Another overall 

trend may be more significant and enduring: the late 1990s marked the first 

time commercial space activities and investment approached or actually 

exceeded government activity in areas such as number of launches, satellite 

manufacturing revenue, and launch revenue.39 With government space 

expenditures projected to remain relatively constant, even modest growth in 

commercial space activities will widen the gap and continue the 

transformation of the commercial space sector from the smallest sector into 

the largest. 

Futron defines satellite services as the use of satellites to deliver 

telephony, television, radio, data communication, remote sensing data, and 

government services. These services are the largest single component of 

commercial space, saw revenue growth of 134 percent between 1996 and 

2000, and accounted for $37 billion or 44.5 percent of total commercial 

space revenues in 2000.40 In the past, telephony was the dominant satellite 

service but now the “major driver of satellite services revenue is services that 

are provided directly to end-user customers (for example, [direct-to-home] 

DTH television services).”41 The growth in direct to end-user services such 

as DTH television is extremely important to commercial space but this 

growth should not be allowed to mask two important considerations: 1) 

satellite telephony now accounts for only 3-5 percent of the $1 trillion global 

telephony market; and 2) the growth in other end-user services served to 

offset the concurrent precipitous decline in satellite telephony caused by the 

growing dominance of fiber optics for most telecommunications services. 

Simply put, satellites’ once dominant position in global transoceanic 

telephony has already been lost to fiber; fiber’s share of this market grew 

from only two percent in 1988 to over 80 percent in 2000.42 Moreover, 

because new fiber technologies such as optical switching and dense 

wavelength division multiplexing (DWDM) are slated to be in widespread 

use by 2002 and are designed to double (at least) the capacity of each fiber 

strand, even next generation wireless broadband such as Hughes’ Spaceway 

system may continue to have a very hard time competing with fiber for any 

fixed, point-to-point telecommunication service.43 The satcom versus fiber 

tradeoff is just one of the many complex issues that will shape the future of 
SPACEPOWER 

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wireless broadband and the role of space systems within these markets. At 

present, however, it is not clear that large-scale “Internet-in-the-sky” systems 

such as Teledesic can be developed cheaply, quickly, and flexibly enough to 

compete effectively with terrestrial alternatives for most applications. 

Satellite manufacturing is the second largest component of the 

commercial space sector. This area grew by 47.5 percent between 1996 and 

2000 and accounted for $18.3 billion or 22 percent of total commercial space 

revenue in 2000.44 As within the rest of the aerospace industry, there has 

been a great deal of consolidation and restructuring within the satellite 

manufacturing business. Five firms now dominate the global satellite 

manufacturing market: Boeing Satellite Systems (formed in October 2000 

when Boeing acquired the Hughes Electronic satellite manufacturing 

businesses), Space Systems/Loral, Lockheed Martin, Astrium (formed by the 

1999 merger of Matra Marconi Space and DaimlerChrysler Aerospace), and 

Alcatel. Increasing competition both within the industry and between satcom 

and fiber has required firms to adapt rapidly to changing market forces. 

Improved manufacturing processes and standardization techniques for GEO 

comsats have reduced the amount of time from contract award to launch 

from 58 months in 1991 to 29 months in 1998.45 In an even more radical 

departure for the industry, most NGSO satellites are now put together using 

assembly line techniques within a matter of a few days. The market for both 

GEO and NGSO satellites is also quite cyclical; for example, 40 GSO 

comsats were ordered in 2000 versus only 15 ordered in 1999.46 But is 

unclear that satellite builders can sustain their recent rates of growth even 

with the restructuring in the industry and new manufacturing techniques. 

United States satellite builders face a particularly difficult challenge 

because they must overcome significant hurdles to obtain export licenses and 

now face newly consolidated but experienced and subsidized European 

competition that is made more attractive by a weak Euro. Indeed, satellite 

manufacturing representatives and many independent analysts now argue that 

the United States Government (USG) overreacted to the inappropriate space 

technology transfers detailed in the Cox Report.47 They believe that when 

the government returned export license approval authority to the State 

Department from the Commerce Department in March 1999 it did not make 

common-sense distinctions between exports to allies and to others. Further, 

they charge that these changes created large administrative burdens and 

regulatory time delays that have undermined sales in this strategic sector but 

that do not necessarily enhance national security or keep critical technologies 

out of the wrong hands.48

Launch and ground equipment manufacturing form the last two 

segments of the commercial space sector; in 2000 they comprised $9.6 
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billion (11.5 percent) and $17.7 billion (21.3 percent), respectively, of the 

world’s total commercial space revenues.49 Between 1996 and 2000, launch 

revenues grew by 39 percent and ground equipment manufacturing revenues 

grew by over 82 percent.50 Launch is undoubtedly the most competitive 

component of commercial space due to a wide variety of launch vehicle 

suppliers, many of which are state sponsored or otherwise subsidized by the 

five states that offer commercial launch services (United States, Europe, 

China, Ukraine, and Russia). The August 1994 U.S. Space Transportation 

Policy formally divided effort on new launch vehicles between the NASA 

and DOD, with the former responsible for developing new reusable launch 

vehicles (RLVs) and the latter responsible for new expendable launch 

vehicles (ELVs).51 The X-33, X-34 and the evolved expendable launch 

vehicle (EELV) are the programs that flowed directly out of this policy.52 

Under the Space Lift Initiative (SLI) announced by the Bush Administration 

in March 2001, funding for the X-33 and X-34 programs was ended before 

any flight tests were conducted and, despite some discussions, DOD has not 

stepped in the save the X-33 program.53 In the United States there are also 

currently no less than seven commercial RLV companies in the conceptual 

development phase but it is very unlikely that there will be enough demand 

to keep all of these efforts alive.54 Other significant factors shaping the nearterm prospects of the commercial launch industry include: the continuing 

string of failures in launch or in achieving the correct orbit, the expiration of 

launch quotas for Ukrainian and Russian launch vehicles, investments by 

launch providers in NGSO systems, launch range standardization and 

modernization plans, and the successful emergence of Sea Launch—the first 

commercial sea-mobile launch platform. The ground equipment 

manufacturing component of commercial space activities is characterized by 

rapid growth (especially in direct to end-user services), significant 

consolidations within larger companies, and the entry of a large number of 

smaller companies. The most important merger was between AlliedSignal 

and Honeywell in December 1999 and this was followed-up in October 2000 

when General Electric agreed to acquire Honeywell in a tax-free merger 

valued at $43 billion.55 The U.S. Department of Justice gave conditional 

approval for this acquisition in May 2001 but in July the European Union 

rejected the deal on anti-trust grounds, making it the first proposed merger of 

U.S. corporations blocked solely by European regulators.56

A final set of issues related to these commercial space considerations is 

the role of spacepower in providing global utilities. Like their terrestrial 

counterparts, space-based global utilities provide basic services or public 

data. Examples of space-based global utilities include weather data and 

Global Positioning System (GPS) positioning and timing signals. Current 
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U.S. policy calls for these services to be provided as a public good without 

direct user fees.57 The importance of these space-based global utilities is 

growing and they often constitute an imbedded or enabling technology 

within other systems. GPS timing signals, for example, can be used to 

synchronize the compressed digitized packages of data within 

communications networks that use protocols such as Code Division Multiple 

Access (CDMA) and Time Division Multiple Access (TDMA). Overall, 

these space-based global utilities form an important part of the global 

infrastructure for public services and commercial intercourse. However, 

there are a number of questions concerning the types of threats these systems 

face and how these might best be mitigated. Some analysts, primarily in the 

U.S. military, believe that threats to these systems call for increased space 

control efforts in order to provide protection.58 Other analysts note that 

commercial satellite operators are not clamoring for military protection, 

wonder if similar threats warrant the development of military space control 

capabilities, and question whether the development of such capabilities 

would, in fact, protect space-based global utilities. 

Seapower and Airpower Analogies. Another direct and obvious set of 

factors shaping our perceptions of spacepower are the oft-invoked analogies 

between spacepower and seapower or airpower. There is, of course, a rich 

literature on seapower and airpower theory. Seminal theorists who 

developed important perspectives on military operations in these two 

mediums include: Alfred Thayer Mahan, Julian Corbett, Giulio Douhet, 

William “Billy” Mitchell, and John Warden.59 Some of the key concepts that 

these theorists developed or applied to the air and sea mediums are command 

of the sea, command of the air, sea lines of communication, common routes, 

choke points, harbor access, concentration and dispersal, and parallel attack. 

Several of these concepts have been appropriated directly into various 

strands of embryonic space theory; others have been modified slightly then 

applied. For example, Mahan and Corbett’s ideas about lines of 

communications, common routes, and choke points have been applied quite 

directly onto the space medium. Seapower and airpower concepts that have 

been modified to help provide starting points for thinking about spacepower 

include harbor access and access to space, and command of the sea or air and 

space control.60 But, of course, to date no comprehensive spacepower theory 

has yet emerged that is worthy of claiming a place alongside the seminal 

seapower and airpower theories listed above.61

There are also many fundamental questions concerning the basic 

attributes of the space medium and how appropriate it is to analogize directly 

from seapower or airpower theory when attempting to build spacepower 

theory. Few concepts from seapower theory translate directly into airpower 
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theory—why should we expect either seapower or airpower theory to apply 

directly for the distinct medium of space? Questions concerning the 

attributes of space and the proper way to build space doctrine are also at the 

heart of the disagreements between the Air Force and rest of the Department 

of Defense (DOD) over whether air and space should be treated as a seamless 

operational medium (defined as aerospace by the Air Force) or regarded as 

distinct air and space mediums (as seen by the rest of DOD).62

many of the problems with the aerospace concept and the 

development of space-power theory and doctrine have 

already been thoughtfully addressed in this [Aerospace 

Power] journal over the years. Dennis Drew, Charles 

Friedenstein, and Kenneth Myers and John Tockston 

published three of the best analyses during the 1980s.63 

These interrelated articles build on Drew’s doctrine-tree 

model—the idea that doctrine should grow out of the soil of 

history, develop a sturdy trunk of fundamental doctrine, 

branch out into doctrine for specific environments, and only 

then attempt to sprout the organizational doctrine analogous 

to “leaves.” This approach provides a comprehensive way to 

examine the aerospace concept and the Air Force’s first 

official space doctrine, Air Force Manual (AFM) 1-6, 

Military Space Doctrine, released in 1982.64 Friedenstein 

finds that “there is no doctrinal foundation for the term 

aerospace” (emphasis in original) and critiques the Air 

Force for attempting to produce “leaves on a nonexistent 

branch” because it had not developed environmental doctrine 

before issuing the organizational doctrine in AFM 1-6.65 

Myers and Tockston strongly critiqued the Air Force’s 

tendency to “force-fit” space doctrine into the mold of air 

doctrine and argued that the three major characteristics of 

space forces are in fact emplacement, pervasiveness, and 

timeliness.66

Thus, despite several efforts to appropriate or adapt key concepts from 

seapower and airpower theory, we are currently still adrift without a 

comprehensive spacepower theory to guide us and would be wise to cast our 

nets more widely and beyond traditional national security considerations. 

Spacepower and the Frontier Analogy. The image of a frontier to be 

tamed evokes powerful images, particularly for Americans, and it is therefore 

not surprising that it has become one of the most popular ways to describe 
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space. Frederick Jackson Turner first advanced his frontier thesis in 1893 as 

a way to describe and explain what he perceived to be distinctive 

characteristics of American history and American political thought.67 For 

Turner, numerous American cultural traits could all be attributed to the 

influence of the frontier—“that coarseness and strength combined with 

acuteness and acquisitiveness; that practical inventive turn of mind, quick to 

find expedients; that masterful grasp of material things... that restless, 

nervous energy; that dominant individualism.”68 In short, he argued that the 

frontier represented “the line of most rapid Americanization.”69 A very short 

list of important specific references to space as a frontier would include the 

beginning of Captain James Tiberius Kirk’s opening monologue on the 

original Star Trek series; the title of Space Studies Institute founder Gerard 

K. O’Neill’s 1977 book, The High Frontier, the report of the 1986 National 

Commission of Space, Pioneering the Space Frontier; and Senator Bob 

Smith’s (R-NH) numerous references to space as the “permanent frontier.”70 

As with most other concepts associated with spacepower, there is much more 

agreement on describing space as a frontier than on the national security 

implications of this association. The U.S. military obviously played a very 

important role in opening the frontier. It took on exploration missions such 

as Lewis and Clark’s Expedition, surveys for railroad routes by the 

Topographical Engineers, construction of navigable waterways by the Corps 

of Engineers, and protection for pioneers. Clearly, the military helped to 

explore, survey, and pacify the American frontier—are these activities 

analogous to what will be conducted in space and is the military the proper 

organization to carry them out? 

Spaceflight, the Overview Effect, and Religious Implications for 

Spacepower. A final set of perspectives on spacepower may shape our 

views in the most subtle and pervasive ways. At their core, these 

perspectives link space to humankind’s purpose and destiny. Humankind has 

pondered its relationship with the cosmos for millennia and perceptions 

about space form foundational components of many religious beliefs. In the 

modern era, the visions of spaceflight produced by Jules Verne and H. G. 

Wells helped to lay the foundation for the new genre of science fiction and 

were echoed in the quasi-religious zeal of spaceflight pioneers such as 

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky and Wernher von Braun as they laid the conceptual 

framework for spaceflight and began to create some of the tools needed to 

“leave the cradle.” Later science fiction authors such as Arthur C. Clarke, 

Robert Heinlein, and Isaac Asimov combined with the increasing popularity 

of this genre for television and films has pervaded the human psyche with the 

boundless possibilities of space and rendered our actual achievements in 

space mundane by comparison. Yet, as humans entered space, many people 
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and groups believed that the rationale and importance of spaceflight took on 

increased significance. Mainstream views on spaceflight cover a broad 

range. Individuals such as Gerard K. O’Neill build on Turner’s frontier 

thesis and emphasize exploration as a cathartic and defining human 

characteristic. Carl Sagan is a primary spokesman for those who view 

spaceflight in scientific and ecological terms and see it as essential to the 

survival of the human species. Visions about spaceflight undoubtedly 

culminate in what Frank White labels “the overview effect”—nothing less 

than space opening the door to the next phase of human evolution.71 

Likewise, the links between space and religious beliefs are still very 

important in the modern era. The first Soviet cosmonauts, for example, went 

to great pains to emphasize that they had not seen God during their travel 

through in the heavens and this prompted Western retorts questioning 

whether they were pure of heart. The reading of the first ten verses from 

Genesis by the crew of Apollo 8 as they became the first humans to view an 

Earthrise from Lunar orbit on Christmas Eve 1968 evoked strong religious 

feelings. As McDougall tells us, humankind has never “been able to separate 

our thinking about technology from teleology or eschatology.”72 The very 

framework of his book warns that technocracy in general and spaceflight in 

particular cannot serve as humankind’s Guarantor of Destiny; instead, his 

instinct tells us 

that our science and technology, feeble as they are in 

controlling Nature, are so acute in studying it that they will 

soon reveal their limits. It is then that man must confess the 

mortality of his works, without turning on them or himself 

with contumely. It is then that the orthodox message is a 

sure guide: God made us, is disappointed in us, but loves us 

anyway, by which we are redeemed. Technology is our 

subcreation. We made it, we will be disappointed in it, but 

we must love it anyway, or it cannot be redeemed.73

The message for analysts attempting to understand spacepower is simple: the 

medium is the message. To a greater degree than any other physical domain, 

space is shaped in fundamental ways by our very broad-ranging perceptions 

about it. Any comprehensive analysis of the strategic utility of spacepower 

must attempt to take these factors into consideration. 
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DOES SPACEPOWER CONSTITUTE A REVOLUTION IN 

MILITARY AFFAIRS? 

As with virtually everything else associated with spacepower, there is a 

wide range of opinion on this question. In order to address this question, we 

must first engage the issue of revolutions in military affairs (RMAs) more 

generally. During the 1990s, discussion of RMAs became a cottage industry 

within strategic studies and defense policy analysis. Unfortunately, to this 

analyst at least, it is unclear whether this whole endeavor has generated more 

light than heat. Nonetheless, in order to continue we need some working 

definition of RMA and some sense of what constituted past RMA. 

This paper adopts the definition of RMA advanced by Dr. Andrew 

Krepinevich and his Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments 

(CSBA). They define an RMA as a major discontinuity in military affairs. 

They are brought about by changes in militarily relevant 

technologies, concepts of operation, methods of 

organization, and/or resources available, and are often 

associated with broader political, social, economic, and 

scientific revolutions. These periods of discontinuous change 

have historically advantaged the strategic/operational 

offense, and have provided a powerful impetus for change in 

the international system. They occur relatively abruptly—

most typically over two-to-three decades. They render 

obsolete or subordinate existing means for conducting war.74

CSBA makes the case that there have been “at least a dozen cases of 

revolutionary change in the conduct of war: Chariot, Iron Age Infantry, 

Macedonian, Stirrup, Artillery/Gunpowder, Napoleonic, Railroad, Rifle, 

Telegraph, Dreadnought/Submarine, Air Superiority/Armored Warfare, 

Naval Air Power, and Nuclear Weapons.”75 Brief descriptions of the six 

most recent RMAs help to further clarify the concept: 

The Napoleonic Revolution. During the last decade of the eighteenth 

century, a social and political revolution in France transformed war. The 

advent of universal conscription—the levée en masse—dramatically 

expanded the size of armies and increased their reconstitutability. 

Equally important, the new conscript armies—composed of literate 

citizen soldiers—had a fundamentally different relationship to the 

societies from which they were drawn. All-weather roads and a new 
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form of military organization—the corps—transformed logistics, and 

mass column assaults and mobile artillery transformed tactics. 

The Railroad, Rifle, and Telegraph Revolution. The commercial 

development of the railroad and telegraph and the military development 

of the breech-loading rifle between 1840 and 1870 revolutionized war on 

land. The railroad revolutionized logistics, the rifle transformed tactics, 

and the telegraph fundamentally changed strategic command and control. 

With the advent of the railroad and telegraph, time, i.e., speed of 

mobilization, became a critical measure of military effectiveness. The 

large-scale movements of armies made possible by the new industrial 

infrastructure also gave birth to a new level of war—the operational 

level. By often giving statesmen a better sense of the overall military 

situation than that possessed by senior commanders in the field, the 

telegraph also transformed civil-military relations. 

The Dreadnought/Submarine Revolution. The advent of steam 

propulsion and metal construction in naval shipbuilding ushered in a 

period of near constant technological change during the last decades of 

the nineteenth century. The completion in 1906 of the H.M.S. 

Dreadnought—the world’s first all-big gun, turbine-driven battleship—

provided existential evidence of another revolution in military affairs. 

With its uniform main armament—ten 12-inch guns—Dreadnought 

could outshoot any older warship. A principal impetus of the 

Dreadnought Revolution—the submarine—proved to be equally 

revolutionary. As a result of the increasing threat that these new 

weapons posed to battlefleets, the long-standing naval strategy of close 

blockades of enemy ports had to be abandoned. Even more important, 

the “hierarchy of power” in naval warfare, which had been established 

with the advent of the capital ship more than three centuries earlier, had 

been severely undermined. 

Armored Warfare/Air Superiority. The stunning victory of German 

forces over the French, British, Dutch, and Belgian armies in May-June 

1940, marked another departure in land warfare. From then on, the unit 

of account in measuring any army’s strength would no longer be the 

number of soldiers it had under arms. While the development of armored 

warfare depended upon the maturation of the dominant technology—the 

tank—technology itself was not sufficient to effect the revolution. 

Several other developments—in supporting technologies (e.g., tank 

radios), organization (combined arms formations and supporting air 
SPACEPOWER 

24

arms), operational concepts (deep penetrations on narrow fronts and air 

superiority), and climate of command (mission-oriented tactics, or 

auftragstaktik)—were essential components of the transformation 

launched by the blitzkrieg. 

Naval Air Power. World War II also saw a transformation of war at sea. 

With the advent of naval air power, fleets that formerly could not engage 

their enemy unless they were in visual range could now hurl blows at one 

another from distances of hundreds of miles. Moreover, whereas naval 

battle had previously been characterized by gunnery duels, destructive 

force could now be delivered in great pulses of power. As with armored 

warfare, the breakthroughs in carrier warfare depended upon a number of 

developments: modifying airplanes so that they were rugged enough to 

withstand the problems associated with landing and taking off at sea, 

developing techniques to manage space on a crowded deck, employing 

carriers in combined strike forces to attack land and sea targets, etc. By 

the autumn of 1943, when American building programs began to amass 

the sheer numbers of platforms required for sustained large-scale carrier 

operations, the transformation of war wrought by the ascendance of 

naval air power had become complete. 

The Nuclear Revolution. The detonation of atomic bombs over 

Hiroshima and Nagasaki provided evidence of another military 

revolution. Far exceeding the prophesies of even the most zealous prewar strategic bombing theorists, subsequent developments in 

intercontinental ballistic missiles and nuclear fusion brought the prospect 

of nearly instantaneous destruction of whole societies into the strategic 

calculus. As with previous revolutions, the advent of nuclear weapons 

saw the emergence of new warfighting doctrines and military 

organizations. In the minds of most strategists, however, the sole purpose 

of the new weapons had shifted from warfighting to deterrence.76

The question, however, remains whether the military and strategic 

contributions of spacepower to date constitute an RMA. Some analysts make 

the case that spacepower’s contributions in the Gulf War (the first space war) 

already mark it out as an RMA. Others make the case that, regardless of its 

specific performance in any individual war, spacepower is the RMA.77 It is 

probably more useful, however, to view the current relationship between 

spacepower and RMAs in two primary ways: first, in terms of spacepower’s 

preeminent contributions that enable the global reconnaissance, precision 

strike RMA that first emerged in the Gulf War; and, second, in terms of 
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spacepower’s autonomous but nascent potential for a space weaponization 

RMA. 

Many systems combine into the system of systems that create the global 

reconnaissance, precision strike RMA that has more clearly emerged and 

become increasingly powerful over the course of the past decade. Some of 

the more important systems for this RMA include: modern communications, 

command, control, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance 

(C4ISR) systems, stealth platforms, and precision weapons. Spacepower 

makes the single most comprehensive and important contribution to this 

RMA. Among other things, spacepower fuels this RMA with 24/7 global 

ISR, it binds it together with communications connectivity, and it enables 

precision strike via GPS. In many cases, space provides the best or even the 

only medium from which to make these enabling contributions. In sum, it is 

clear that spacepower has now moved beyond merely enhancing terrestrial 

forces and has become the single most important contribution that enables 

the global reconnaissance, precision strike RMA. 

Space weapons hold the potential to revolutionize warfare in even more 

powerful and fundamental ways. They could operate from the lowest tactical 

level up through the grand strategic level, could provide nearly instantaneous 

and simultaneous global strikes, and might even minimize the power of 

offensive nuclear forces. Such systems would create an RMA at least as 

profound as the six cases of modern RMAs discussed above. The path to 

space weaponization, however, still contains many extremely difficult 

political, fiscal, and technical challenges. Moreover, before starting down 

the path to space weaponization, we must anticipate that such powerful 

weapons will almost inevitably provoke countermeasures in the unending 

dialectic between offensive and defensive weapons and we must avoid the 

fallacy of the last move. Cumulatively, the breadth and depth of the 

challenges for space weapons to overcome means that this RMA may not 

emerge for some time to come—despite all its potential. Given these two 

separate relationships between spacepower and RMAs, this paper returns to 

an analysis of the military implications of commercial space activity since 

these factors are more likely to shape spacepower’s continuing contributions 

to the global reconnaissance, precision strike RMA in major ways in the 

near-term. 

Military Implications of the Growth in Commercial Space Activity 

This section relies primarily on the Air Force’s Commercial Space 

Opportunities Study (CSOS) to assess military opportunities and risks within 

a number of commercial space areas including: launch services, launch 
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ranges, remote sensing, and navigation.78 The CSOS report finds a number 

of areas where the military can leverage commercial activities to create new 

or improved military capabilities. Overall, however, it has a much harder 

time identifying many areas for large potential cost savings and it cannot find 

the “pot of gold” that many had hoped the growth in commercial space 

activities would create.79 It is also hard to argue with the judgement in the 

Space Commission Report: “The U.S. Government, as a consumer, a 

regulator or an investor, is currently not a good partner to the national 

security space industry.”80

Launch Services. According to the CSOS, commercial launch services 

hold the potential to create the largest cost savings in both percentage and 

absolute terms of any commercial space area. The military is projected to 

spend $1.5 billion on launch services in the future years defense program 

(FYDP) and stands to save some $62-125 million (or 25-50 percent) in 

annual launch costs once the EELV comes on line beginning in 2002.81 If 

the EELV program is successful in significantly reducing costs-per-poundto-orbit, it will represent a major breakthrough since, despite years of 

repeated promises from other new launchers such as the Shuttle, launch costs 

have remained constant or actually risen since the opening of the space age.82 

The EELV program is a novel partnering arrangement between the Air Force 

and two prime contractors (Boeing and Lockheed-Martin) to build the Delta 

IV and Atlas 5 as two separate families of medium-to-heavy lift vehicles. 

Instead of following the normal process of selecting a single prime 

contractor, in October 1998 the Air Force awarded $500 million each to 

Boeing and Lockheed-Martin and each of these companies is contributing 

more than $1 billion of their own funds to develop these systems.83 The 

EELV and other commercial launch systems lower costs through a 

combination of factors including reduced launch staffs, less time-on-pad, 

standardization of launch vehicles, and bulk launcher purchases. Another 

process to reduce costs further that was identified by the CSOS is “buy-onorbit” procurement, a method of transferring total system performance 

responsibility to the contractor that requires less government oversight.84 

The CSOS touts the EELV program as an outstanding example of how the 

military can successfully leverage the commercial sector; its primary 

recommendation is to stay the course on EELV.85 Potential military risks in 

this area stem from factors such as competition with the private sector for 

launchers and pads, having fewer vehicles optimized for military payloads, 

and unclear future options for both military and commercial RLVs. Perhaps 

the most potentially significant long-term military risks are associated with 

RLVs and arise from several factors: NASA rather than DOD has the lead 

for developing new RLVs, it is unclear whether NASA’s current efforts will 
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produce any operational commercial or military vehicles, and RLVs would 

seem to be better suited for many projected military missions than for most 

commercial or civil uses. 

Launch Ranges. Ranges are a good example of an area where the 

CSOS could not find a big “pot of gold” for the military due to increased 

commercial activity. The Air Force currently spends about $600-700 million 

annually to operate and maintain the nation’s primary launch facilities: the 

Eastern and Western Ranges at Cape Canaveral Air Station and Vandenberg 

Air Force Base, respectively.86 The Air Force’s Range Standardization and 

Automation (RSA) program is a $1.2 billion comprehensive effort scheduled 

for completion in 2006 that is designed to eliminate obsolete equipment, 

standardize equipment within and between the two ranges, and reduce the 

number of personnel required for operations (two thirds of the operators 

today are contractors rather than military or civil service personnel).87 Once 

the RSA is completed, the Air Force looks forward to annual savings of $30-

60 million (approximately 5-8 percent of annual operation costs). The CSOS 

recommends pressing ahead with the RSA but what is perhaps most 

interesting is how little support the report gives to proposals to 

commercialize range activities. This runs counter to the general trend toward 

increased commercialization in most industrial sectors worldwide, the fact 

that commercial launches have already edged ahead of government launches 

(and this gap is expected to increase), and NASA’s apparent success to date 

in commercializing shuttle operations and maintenance through the United 

Space Alliance. Bucking these trends, the CSOS recommends that the Air 

Force “retain responsibility for flight safety, launch decision authority and 

range scheduling[.]”. . . due to “its responsibility for public safety, its 

independence of private interests, and industry’s concerns with liability 

issues.”88

Remote Sensing. Commercial remote sensing is a complex area that 

requires the USG to carefully balance several conflicting goals. It is 

currently next to impossible to assess all the potential ways in which highresolution commercial remote sensing will create military opportunities and 

risks due to the nascent state of this industry and its highly interdependent 

nature. Inter alia, military effectiveness will depend upon the quality, 

timeliness, and types of products offered; military efficiency will be based on 

the optimal mix between commercial and government systems. Under the 

Land Remote Sensing Policy Act of 1992 and Presidential Decision 

Directive (PDD)-23 of March 1994, it is now the policy of the United States 

to create incentives to develop a high-resolution commercial remote sensing 

industry. By attempting to dominate this market, the U.S. hopes to preserve 

its defense industrial base and workers trained in this sector, leverage 
SPACEPOWER 

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commercial systems for government uses, and shape global standards on 

acceptable use via mechanisms such as shutter control.89 Three U.S. firms—

Space Imaging, EarthWatch, and OrbImage—are developing high-resolution 

commercial remote sensing systems (Ikonos, QuickBird, and OrbView, 

respectively) and they face significant foreign competition from systems such 

as SPOT, the Indian Remote Sensing (IRS) satellites (marketed by Space 

Imaging), and EROS (an Israeli-U.S. joint venture).90 According to the 

CSOS, the Air Force spends $10 million annually on commercial imagery 

(this includes the innovative Eagle Vision activities); the report recommends 

that spending be increased to $80 million annually for each year in the 

FYDP.91

Two congressionally mandated studies reemphasize just how complex 

and difficult remote sensing issues have become for the USG. Many of the 

findings and recommendations from the commissions studying the NRO and 

NIMA go well beyond those in the CSOS by placing a great deal of emphasis 

on commercial imagery and the Intelligence Community’s (IC) tasking, 

processing, exploitation, and dissemination (TPED) process. According to 

the NRO Commission report, for example, the USG: “could satisfy a 

substantial portion of its national security-related imagery requirements by 

purchasing services from” U.S. firms; it “must” develop a “clear national 

strategy that takes full advantage of the capabilities of the U.S. commercial 

satellite imagery industry;” and it should create a system similar to DOD’s 

industrially funded airlift account to help efficiently focus government 

systems “on targets where their unique capabilities in resolution and revisit 

times are important, while commercial systems would be used to provide 

processed ‘commodity’ images.”92

The NIMA Commission report goes even further. It found the IC to be 

“collection centric,” “that NIMA was not a good, dependable business 

partner,” and recommended creating a “central commercial imagery fund” to 

help mitigate problems resulting from the fact “that national technical means 

(NTM) imagery appears to be ‘free’ to government agencies, while use of 

commercial imagery generally requires a distressingly large expenditure of 

(largely unplanned, unprogrammed) O&M [operation and maintenance] 

funds.”93 The commission recommended that the central commercial 

imagery fund start at about $350 million annually for “raw imagery and 

vendor’s value-added offerings.”94 They expect that this figure will rise 

substantially throughout the FYDP, and were very “distressed by an 

announcement promising $1 billion for commercial imagery purchase, which 

subsequently proved to be so much fiction.”95 The NIMA Commission saved 

its harshest critique for NIMA’s TPED shortcomings. These shortcomings 

“increasingly strains at the fabric of the NIMA organization as a whole” and 
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undermine confidence “that NIMA currently has the system engineering 

experience, acquisition experience, appropriate business practices, and 

performance measures” to acquire a cutting-edge TPED system.96 The 

commission concludes that NIMA’s TPED efforts simply cannot “get there 

from here” and recommends: 

creation of an Extraordinary Program Office (EPO) armed 

with special authorities of the Director of Central 

Intelligence and the Secretary of Defense, augmented by 

Congress, and staffed beyond ceiling and above “cap” 

through an heroic partnership between industry, NIMA, and 

the NRO. The EPO, to be constituted within NIMA from the 

best national talent, shall be charged with and resourced for 

all preacquisition, systems engineering, and acquisition of 

imagery TPED—from end to end, from “national” to 

“tactical.” The first milestone shall be completion of a 

comprehensive, understandable, modern-day “architecture” 

for imagery TPED. Other provisions of law 

notwithstanding, Congress shall empower the Director of the 

EPO to commingle any and all funds duly authorized and 

appropriated for the purpose of the “TPED enterprise,” as 

jointly defined by the Secretary of Defense and the Director 

of Central Intelligence.97

Positioning, Navigation, and Timing (PNT). Although perhaps not 

quite as complex as remote sensing, the current de facto role of the Global 

Positioning Systems (GPS) as the global utility for PNT presents difficult 

policy challenges in balancing military and commercial interests. Moreover, 

because commercial PNT applications are already large (more than $8 billion 

annually)98 and are expanding rapidly and in many different areas worldwide, 

it difficult to assess how the military might best leverage the commercial 

PNT sector. The current GPS constellation consists of 29 Block II, IIA, and 

IIR satellites launched between June 1989 and January 2001; the system 

costs over $280 million annually to operate and estimates for the total sunk 

cost in procuring and launching the current constellation is well over $10 

billion.99 The U.S. policy framework for PNT issues was formalized by 

National Science and Technology Council (NSTC)-6, “U.S. Global 

Positioning System Policy,” in March 1996. To manage the system, NSTC-6 

established the interagency GPS Executive Board (IGEB) that is chaired 

jointly by DOD and the Department of Transportation. The policy also 

reemphasized that the USG will continue to operate the GPS “on a 
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30

continuous, worldwide basis, free of direct user fees;” established the 

intention to discontinue the use of SA by 2006 (SA was turned off on 2 May 

2000); and directed the DOD to “continue to acquire, operate, and maintain 

the basic GPS” while developing “measures to prevent hostile use of GPS 

and its augmentations to ensure that the United States retains a military 

advantage without unduly disrupting or degrading civilian uses.”100 

The USG is attempting to reassess and rebalance various equities as the 

GPS is modernized to provide significant improvements in its civil, 

commercial, and military capabilities. In May 2000, President Clinton put 

more emphasis on the system’s growing civil and commercial uses than on 

its military roots and applications when he described the discontinuation of 

SA as “the latest measure in an ongoing effort to make GPS more responsive 

to civil and commercial users worldwide. . . . This increase in accuracy will 

allow new GPS applications to emerge and continue to enhance the lives of 

people around the world.”101 Turning off SA has already produced an order 

of magnitude improvement in accuracy for civil and commercial users; when 

combined with the two new civil signals (L2 and L5) that are scheduled to 

first come on line beginning in 2003 and 2005, these sectors clearly seem 

poised for further accelerating growth. The L2 Coarse/Acquisition (C/A) 

code is designed for general use in non-safety critical applications and will 

help to improve “standalone accuracy as low as 8.5 meters (95 percent) 

compared with approximately 22.5 meters (95 percent) with L1 alone.”102 

The second new civil code, L5, is a “safety-of-life” signal designed primarily 

for aircraft navigation, but “it will also serve as a robust third signal for all 

users.”103

Naturally, DOD’s perspective on GPS modernization emphasizes the 

military utility of the system. The U.S. military is already critically 

dependent on GPS for a wide range of applications and this dependence will 

only grow over time. For example, most modern U.S. precision-guided 

munitions (PGMs) use GPS guidance for at least some phase of their flight 

from weapons release to impact.104 According to March 2000 testimony by 

Mr. Keith Hall, Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Space and Director 

of the NRO: “While sustainment of the constellation is a top priority, 

navigation warfare (Navwar) requirements and inherent system 

vulnerabilities have driven the need to modernize.”105 Current plans call for 

DOD to invest more than $2.7 billion through fiscal year 2005 to operate, 

maintain, and upgrade the system.106 In addition to the two new civil signals, 

the modernized system will also have new military codes (M-code) “that will 

‘reuse’ portions of the radio spectrum already assigned to the L1 and L2 

frequencies while remaining spectrally distinguishable from the L1 and L2 

C/A-codes.”107 It is unclear, however, whether this resuse approach will be 
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flexible and robust enough to enable the U.S. military to use GPS effectively 

even when the enemy is attempting to jam the system.108

CONCLUSION 

Spacepower is a complex, multidimensional concept that clearly 

deserves the current attention it is receiving. It should be studied in 

comprehensive ways that allow analysis of all the many factors that 

contribute to its efficacy. For the near-term, the links between spacepower 

and the commercial space sector should be studied most carefully. Carefully 

examining these linkages will point to how the military can best use 

commercial space assets and also highlight the areas where it will require 

dedicated military systems. Although space is not an economic center of 

gravity today, it may emerge as one in the coming decades. It is less clear, 

however, that traditional “flag follows trade” arguments will lead to an 

increased military space presence or provide the best way to protect space 

assets. Looking beyond just economic considerations, there appear to be a 

growing number of strategic factors that are creating pressure for increased 

militarization and probably weaponization of space. To date, military space 

developments have been the single most important contribution to the global 

reconnaissance, precision strike RMA that first emerged in the Gulf War. As 

current political, fiscal, and technological challenges are surmounted, it is 

likely that space—like every other environment humankind has opened—

will become weaponized and will emerge as an independent RMA. 

NOTES 

 

1

 The NRO at the Crossroads (Washington, D.C.: National Commission for the 

review of the National Reconnaissance Office, 1 November 2000). The Information 

Edge: Imagery Intelligence and Geospatial Information in an Evolving National 

Security Environment (Washington, D.C.: Independent Commission on the National 

Imagery and Mapping Agency, December 2000). Report of the Commission to 

Assess National Security Space Management and Organization (Washington, D.C.: 

Commission to Assess National Security Space Management and Organization, 11 

January 2001, hereinafter Space Commission Report). All three reports are available 

on-line at http://www.space.gov. In addition, in May 2001 under National Security 

Presidential Directive (NSPD)-5, President Bush ordered a comprehensive review of 

U.S. intelligence capabilities to be conducted by both internal and external panels 

that was originally scheduled for completion in September but was delayed 

following the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001. See Vernon Loeb, “U.S. 

Intelligence Efforts to Get Major Review,” Washington Post, 12 May 2001, 3; and 

Walter Pincus, “Intelligence Shakeup Would Boost CIA,” Washington Post, 8 
SPACEPOWER 

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November 2001, 1; and Greg Miller, “Congress to Probe Intelligence Community,” 

Los Angles Times, 26 January 2002. 

The most important previous groups and their key space policy 

recommendations include: the 1954-55 Technological Capabilities Panel (TCP) 

(establish the legality of overflight and develop spy satellites); the President’s 

Science Advisory Committee (PSAC) led by Science Advisor James Killian in 1958 

(create the National Aeronautics and Space Administration [NASA]); the SAMOS 

Panel led by Science Advisor George Kistiakowsky in 1960 (create the NRO); the 

review led by Vice President Lyndon Johnson in April 1961 (race the Soviets to the 

Moon for prestige); Vice President Spiro Agnew’s 1969 Space Task Group (establish 

NASA’s post-Apollo goals); the U.S. Air Force’s (USAF) 1988 Blue Ribbon Panel 

led by Maj Gen Robert Todd (integrate spacepower into combat operations); 

NASA’s 1991 Augustine Commission (emphasize scientific exploration over shuttle 

operations); and the USAF’s 1992 Blue Ribbon Panel led by Lt Gen Thomas 

Moorman (emphasize space support to the warfighter, establish the Space Warfare 

Center). 

The Space Commission Report is the broadest-ranging and most important 

product of the three commissions in 2000. The Space Commission was chaired by 

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and included 12 other members with a broadrange of very high-level military space expertise. They are (listed with the top 

“space” job they formerly held): Duane Andrews (Deputy Undersecretary of 

Defense for Command, Control, Communications, and Intelligence); Robert Davis 

(Undersecretary of Defense for Space); Howell Estes (Commander, U.S. Space 

Command); Ronald Fogleman (Air Force Chief of Staff); Jay Garner (Commander, 

Army Space and Strategic Defense Command); William Graham (President’s 

Science Advisor); Charles Horner (Commander, U.S. Space Command); David 

Jeremiah (Vice Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff); Thomas Moorman (Air Force 

Vice Chief of Staff); Douglass Necessary (House Armed Services Committee staff); 

Glenn Otis (Commander, Army Training and Doctrine Command); and Malcolm 

Wallop (Senator). See John A. Tirpak, “The Fight for Space,” Air Force Magazine

83 (August 2000): 61. 

The legislation authorizing the commission was clearly action-oriented and 

spelled out its duties as follows: “The Commission shall, concerning changes to be 

implemented over the near-term, medium-term, and long-term that would strengthen 

United States national security, assess the following: (1) the manner in which 

military space assets may be exploited to provide support for United States military 

operations. (2) The current interagency coordination process regarding the operation 

of national security space assets, including identification of interoperability and 

communications issues. (3) The relationship between the intelligence and 

nonintelligence aspects of national security space (so-called “white space” and 

“black space”), and the potential costs and benefits of a partial or complete merger of 

the programs, projects, or activities that are differentiated by those two aspects. (4) 

The manner in which military space issues are addressed by professional military 

education institutions. (5) The potential costs and benefits of establishing any of the 
HAYS 

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following: (A) An independent military department and service dedicated to the 

national security space mission. (B) A corps within the Air Force dedicated to the 

national security space mission. (C) A position of Assistant Secretary of Defense for 

Space within the Office of the Secretary of Defense. (D) A new major force 

program, or other budget mechanism, for managing national security space funding 

within the Department of Defense. (E) Any other change to the existing 

organizational structure of the Department of Defense for national security space 

management and organization.” 

See sec. 1622 of National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2000 (Public 

Law 106-65; 113 Statute 814; 10 US Code 111 note). 

In October 2000, Congress added an amendment directing the commission to study 

(6) the advisability of— 

(A) various actions to eliminate the de facto requirement that specified officers in 

the United States Space Command be flight rated that results from the dual 

assignment of officers to that command and to one or more other commands in 

positions in which officers are expressly required to be flight rated; 

(B) the establishment of a requirement that, as a condition of the assignment of a 

general or flag officer to the United States Space Command, the officer have 

experience in space, missile, or information operations that was gained through 

either acquisition or operational experience; and 

(C) rotating the command of the United States Space Command among the Armed 

Forces. 

See sec. 1091, Additional Duties for Commission to Assess United States National 

Security Space Management and Organization; sec. 1622(a) of the National Defense 

Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2000 (Public Law 106-65; 113 Statute 814; 10 US 

Code 111 note). 

The key recommendations of the Space Commission Report called for: raising 

the priority of national security space to a vital national interest; creating a 

Presidential Space Advisory Group; instituting closer and more regular coordination 

between the Secretary of Defense and the Director of Central Intelligence; creating 

an Under Secretary of Defense for Space, Intelligence, and Information; creating a 

new four-star billet for the Commander of Air Force Space Command that is separate 

from the Commander in Chief of U.S. Space Command and the North American 

Aerospace Defense Command; designating the Air Force as the Executive Agent for 

space within the Department of Defense (DOD) and amending Title 10 of the United 

States Code to assign the Air Force responsibility to organize, train, and equip for 

prompt and sustained offensive and defensive air and space operations; assigning the 

Undersecretary of the Air Force as the Director of the National Reconnaissance 

Office and the Acquisition Executive for space; and establishing a Major Force 

Program to consolidate the space budget. (Space Commission Report, xxxi-xxxv). 

Not surprisingly, Secretary Rumsfeld recently accepted nearly all of these 

recommendations in his required assessment of the Space Commission Report for 

Congress. The only major change was that he did not request legislation to establish 

an Under Secretary of Defense for Space, Intelligence, and Information. See Donald 
SPACEPOWER 

34

 

H. Rumsfeld, letter to Honorable John Warner, Chairman, Committee on Armed 

Services, United States Senate, 8 May 2001; Donald H. Rumsfeld, National Security 

Space Management and Organization Memorandum, Office of the Secretary of 

Defense, 18 October 2001; and Lt Col Peter Hays and Dr. Karl Mueller, “Going 

Boldly—Where? Aerospace Integration, the Space Commission, and the Air Force’s 

Vision for Space,” Aerospace Power Journal 15, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 34-49. 2

 This paper uses spacepower as one word; it is also commonly expressed as two 

words. Air Force Chief of Staff Thomas D. White first used the word aerospace in 

1958, and the concept that air and space form a seamless operational medium has 

been the foundational component of Air Force thinking about space ever since. 

Unfortunately, however, the Air Force is primarily talking to itself by using this 

word in this way because none of the other Services or DOD offices use the word 

aerospace according to the Air Force’s definition. Aerospace, for example, is only 

used as an adjective describing industry in the Space Commission Report and the 

word does not even appear in the DOD’s current space policy statement (Department 

of Defense Directive 3100.10, Space Policy, 9 July 1999). 3

 Prior to the opening of the space age, the United States, in particular, was very 

reluctant to define where space begins. The Eisenhower Administration’s secret but 

highest priority space policy as expressed in NSC-5520 of May 1955 was designed 

to distinguish between aerial and satellite overflight and to established the legitimacy 

and legality of the latter. This policy called for using the civilian face of the United 

States’ International Geophysical Year scientific satellite program as a “stalking 

horse” to establish the precedent of legal overflight in order to open up the closed 

Soviet state to photoreconnaissance via the secret WS-117L spy satellite system. 

The term stalking horse is taken from R. Cargill Hall’s “Origins of U.S. Space 

Policy: Eisenhower, Open Skies, and Freedom of Space,” in Exploring the 

Unknown: Selected Documents in the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program, ed. 

John M. Logsdon, vol. 1, Organizing for Exploration (Washington, D.C.: NASA 

History Office, 1995), 213–29. The United States has not subsequently revisited the 

issue of where space begins in light of the changed geopolitical context and 

declassification of satellite reconnaissance. By using unclassified sources, primarily 

at the Eisenhower Library, Walter A. McDougall was the first to break through the 

veil of secrecy surrounding early U.S. space policy in . . .the Heavens and the Earth: 

A Political History of the Space Age (New York: Basic Books, 1985). His book 

won the Pulitzer Prize for History in 1986. 4

 Barry D. Watts, The Military Use of Space: A Diagnostic Assessment

(Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, February 

2001); Steven Lambakis, On the Edge of Earth: The Future of American Space 

Power (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2001; Everett C. Dolman, 

Astropolitik: Classic Geopolitics in the Space Age (London: Frank Cass, 2002); and 

Robert Preston, et al., Space Weapons: Earth Wars (Santa Monica: RAND 

Corporation, 2002). 

5

 Military use of commercial satellites was a major issue in the 1998 Army After 

Next wargame and space weaponization, deterrence and preemption, and space-to-
HAYS 

35

 

Earth force application were all critical parts of the Air Force’s Schriever 2001 and 

Future Concepts 2001 wargames. See, for example, “Air Force gains insights from 

first space wargame,” Air Force News Archive, available from 

http://www.af.news/Jan2001/n20010129_0124.shtml. 

6

 Many U.S. Government documents list three rather than four space sectors. Upon 

closer examination, however, these documents reveal the important contributions of 

each of the four sectors discussed above. For example, the most recent National 

Space Policy discusses civil, national security (defense and intelligence), and 

commercial sectors. National Science and Technology Council, “Fact Sheet: 

National Space Policy” (Washington, D.C.: The White House, 19 September 1996). 

The term “space sectors” was first used as an organizing typology in President 

Jimmy Carter’s 1978 National Space Policy. National Security Council, 

“Presidential Directive/NSC-37: National Space Policy” (Washington, D.C.: The 

White House, 11 May 1978). 

7

 Space Commission Report, 10-14. 

8

 This section and the next are adapted from Peter L. Hays, James M. Smith Alan R. 

Van Tassel, and Guy M. Walsh, eds., Spacepower for a New Millennium: Space and 

U.S. National Security (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2000), 3-6. 9

 Satellites in Low Earth Orbit (LEO) fly in the region from less than 100 miles to 

several hundred miles altitude and complete each orbit in approximately 90 minutes. 

Polar LEO is ideal for many spysat and weather applications because from this orbit 

satellites can look down on all parts of the Earth several times each day as the Earth 

rotates beneath and they also can be aligned in Sun Synchronous Orbits that arrive 

overhead the same location at the same time each day. Satellites in SemiSynchronous Orbit are located at approximately 12,500 miles altitude and complete 

an orbit every 12 hours. Geostationary Orbit (GSO) is located approximately 22,300 

miles above the equator, a location where the satellites’ orbital velocity matches 

Earth’s rate of rotation and the satellite appears to remain motionless above the same 

spot—a very valuable attribute for communications and SIGINT satellites. NPOESS 

is a system that is currently being jointly developed by the National Oceanic and 

Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) and DOD that will merge their separate 

meteorological satellite systems into one system scheduled for its first launch in 

2005. The AEHF program is developing the successor to the Milstar system and 

currently plans its first launch in 2005. The WGS is scheduled to launch a satellite in 

2004. It is designed to bridge the gap between the current DSCS and GBS systems 

and a future advanced wideband system. For more information, see the Air Force 

Association’s “Major Military Satellite Systems” webpage at 

http://www.afa.org/magazine/space/satellite_systems.html. 10 Long Range Plan: Implementing USSPACECOM Vision for 2020 (Peterson AFB, 

Colo: U.S. Space Command, Director of Plans, March 1998), 19-20. Space control 

or “counterspace operations” are defined in much greater detail in Air Force 

Doctrine Document (AFDD) 2-2 Space Operations: “Counterspace operations 

consist of those operations conducted to attain and maintain a desired degree of 

space superiority by allowing friendly forces to exploit space capabilities while 
SPACEPOWER 

36

 

negating an adversary’s ability to do the same. Counterspace operations include 

two elements – offensive and defensive counterspace, both predicated on space 

surveillance and other intelligence. Air, space, land, sea, information, or special 

operations can perform counterspace functions. 

Offensive counterspace (OCS) operations preclude an adversary from 

exploiting space to his advantage. Should policy allow, OCS actions may target an 

adversary’s space system, forces, and information links, or third-party space 

capabilities supporting those forces, using lethal or nonlethal means. Possible 

methods include the use of deception, disruption, denial, degradation, and 

destruction of space capabilities. The “Five Ds” represent a continuum of options, 

from spoofing the enemy to hard-kill of a space asset. However, there are tradeoffs 

along the continuum. At the destruction end of the continuum, airmen can be 

confident that an adversary’s space asset and the effect it produced have been 

eliminated. However, there may be undesirable collateral effects, such as added 

debris threats in orbit, or negative world opinion. At the deception end of the 

continuum, airmen may have less confidence in achieving the desired effect, but 

have more confidence in not producing any adverse collateral effects. 

 

• Deception employs manipulation, distortion, or falsification of 

information to induce adversaries to react in a manner 

contrary to their interests. 

• Disruption is the temporary impairment of some or all of a 

space system’s capability to produce effects, usually without 

physical damage. 

• Denial is the temporary elimination of some or all of a space 

system’s capability to produce effects, usually without physical 

damage. 

• Degradation is the permanent impairment of some or all of a 

space system’s capability to produce effects, usually with 

physical damage. 

• Destruction is the permanent elimination of all of a space 

system’s capabilities to produce effects, usually with physical 

damage. 

Assets designed for the OCS mission may be used to conduct or support 

counterair, countersea, counterland, counterinformation, or strategic attack missions 

by performing offensive counterspace actions where the adversary’s vulnerable node 

is a space system. 

Defensive counterspace (DCS) operations preserve US/allied ability to 

exploit space to its advantage via active and passive actions to protect friendly 

space-related capabilities from enemy attack or interference. Although focused 

on responding to man-made hostile intent, DCS actions may also safeguard assets 

from unintentional hazards such as space debris, RF interference, and other natural 

occurring events. Defensive counterinformation (DCI) operations and force 

protection measures may be employed in support of DCS. 
HAYS 

37

 

• Active defense seeks to detect, track, identify, characterize, 

intercept, or negate adversary threats and unintentional hazards to 

friendly space capabilities. 

• Passive defense seeks to ensure the survivability of friendly space 

assets, and the information they provide. 

Space situational awareness (SSA) forms the foundation for all 

counterspace and other space actions. It includes traditional space surveillance, 

detailed reconnaissance of specific space assets, collection and processing of space 

intelligence data, and analysis of the space environment. It also encompasses the use 

of traditional intelligence sources to provide insight into adversary space operations. 

(Emphases in original.) Air Force Doctrine Document 2-2 Space Operations

(Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air Force Doctrine Center, 27 November 2001), 9-10. 11 Lt Col David E. Lupton, On Space Warfare: A Space Power Doctrine (Maxwell 

AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, June 1988). 

12 Robert S. Dudney, “Washington Watch: The New Space Plan,” Air Force 

Magazine 81, no. 7 (July 1998): n.p.; on-line, Internet, 13 December 2000, available 

from http://www.afa.org/magazine/0798watch.html. 

13 Ibid. 

14 General Howell M. Estes, III, “The Promise of Space Potential for the Future,” 

prepared remarks to the United States Space Foundation’s 1997 National Space 

Symposium, Colorado Springs, Colo., 3 April 1997; on-line, Internet, 11 December 

2000, available from http://www.defenselink.mil/speeches/1997/s19970403-

estes.html. 

15 Long Range Plan, 4-5, 33. 16 On the sea change caused by growth in the commercial space sector, see Frank G. 

Klotz, Space, Commerce, and National Security (New York: Council on Foreign 

Relations Press, 1998); Gen Thomas S. Moorman Jr., “The Explosion of Commercial 

Space and the Implications for National Security,” Airpower Journal 13, no. 1 

(Spring 1999): 6–20; and John M. Logsdon and Russell J. Acker, eds., Merchants 

and Guardians: Balancing U.S. Interests in Global Space Commerce (Washington, 

D.C.: Space Policy Institute, George Washington University, May 1999). The idea 

that the “flag follows trade” is from Klotz, 15-20. 

17 “There appears to be no demand from the operators of commercial 

communications satellites for defense of their multibillion-dollar assets.” John M. 

Logsdon, “Just Say Wait to Space Power,” Issues in Science and Technology (Spring 

2001), n.p.; on-line, Internet, 24 April 2001, available from 

http://www.nap.edu/issues/17.3/p_logsdon.htm. 18 General Ronald R. Fogleman and the Honorable Sheila E. Widnall, Global 

Engagement: A Vision for the 21st Century Air Force (Washington, D.C.: 

November 1996), 8. Emphasis in original. 

19 Klotz, 55; and Lt Col Paul L. Bailey, “Space as an Area of Responsibility,” Air 

Chronicles, Winter 1998, on-line, Internet, 13 December 2000, available from 

http://www.airpower.maxwell.af.mil/airchronicles/apj/apj98/win98/waywin98.html. 
SPACEPOWER 

38

 20 Quoted in Otto Kreisher, “The Move into Space,” Air Force Magazine 82, no. 4 

(April 1999): n.p.; on-line, Internet, 11 December 2000, available from 

http://www.afa.org/magazine/0499space.html. 21 General Richard B. Myers, “Integrating Space in an Uncertain Era,” prepared 

remarks to the Air Force Association Space Symposium, Los Angeles, 13 November 

1998; on-line, Internet, 13 December 2000, available from 

http://www.aef.org/symposia/myers.html. 

22 Quoted in Peter Grier, “The Investment in Space,” Air Force Magazine 83, no. 2 

(February 2000): n.p.; on-line, Internet, 11 December 2000, available from 

http://www.afa.org/magazine/0200onvestment.html. 

23 Gen. Richard B. Myers, “Space Superiority Is Fleeting,” Aviation Week & Space 

Technology, 1 January 2000: n.p.; on-line, Internet, 13 December 2000, available 

from http://www.awgnet.com/avaiation/newmillen/aw54.htm. 

24 General Michael E. Ryan and the Honorable F. Whitten Peters, Global Vigilance, 

Reach & Power: America’s Air Force Vision 2020 (Washington, D.C.: Department 

of the Air Force, June 2000). 

25 Air Force Chief of Staff General Merill McPeak moved away from the aerospace 

concept in June 1992 by changing the Air Force mission statement by adding the 

words “air and space.” During the tenure of General Michael E. Ryan as Chief of 

Staff, however, the Air Force returned to the aerospace concept. For the period of 

General Ryan’s tenure, the Air Force emphasized that there are physical differences 

between the atmosphere and space but defined aerospace as a seamless operational 

medium comprised of both physical domains. See, for example, Air Force Doctrine 

Document 2-2 Space Operations (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air Force Doctrine Center, 

23 August 1998), 1 or Global Vigilance, Reach & Power. As reflected in recent 

speeches and the 27 November 2001 edition of AFDD 2-2, General John P. Jumper, 

the current USAF Chief of Staff, has chosen to return to using “air” and “space” as 

separate words rather than continuing to use the term “aerospace.” 

Let me start off by talking a little bit about air and space versus aerospace. I 

carefully read the Space Commission report. I didn’t see one time in that 

report, in its many pages, where the term “aerospace” was used. The reason is 

that it fails to give the proper respect to the culture and to the physical 

differences that abide between the physical environment of air and the 

physical environment of space. 

We need to make sure we respect those differences. So, I will talk about air 

and space. I will respect the fact that space is its own culture, that space has 

its own principles that have to be respected. And when we talk about 

operating in different ways in air and space, we have to also pay great 

attention to combining the effects of air and space because in the combining 

of those effects, we will leverage this technology we have that creates the 

asymmetrical advantage for our commanders. 

Prepared Remarks of General John P. Jumper at Air Force Association National 

Symposium, Los Angeles, CA, 16 November 2001. Available from 

http://www.aef.org/symposia/jump1101.asp. 
HAYS 

39

 

 In this context, it is very important to note that the other Services and the Office 

of the Secretary of Defense have never fully accepted the Air Force’s definition of 

aerospace or ceded all operations in this area to the Air Force. For a comprehensive 

analysis of the aerospace concept’s deep roots in airpower theory see Maj Stephen 

M. Rothstein, “Dead on Arrival? The Development of the Aerospace Concept, 1944-

1958,” Master’s thesis, School of Advanced Airpower Studies, (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: 

Air University Press, 2001). For a critique of the aerospace concept see Lt Col Peter 

Hays and Dr. Karl Mueller, “Going Boldly—Where? Aerospace Integration, the 

Space Commission, and the Air Force’s Vision for Space,” Aerospace Power 

Journal 15, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 34-49. 26 General Eberhart did not put much emphasis on commercial space developments 

and did not even mention the term COG in his 8 March 2000 testimony to the Senate 

Armed Services Committee Strategic Subcommittee (available from 

http://www.spacecom.af.mil/usspace/cinc8mar00.htm); or in his 4 April 2000 

keynote speech to the United States Space Symposium (available from 

http://www.spacecom.af.mil/usspace/cinc0404.htm). USSPACECOM picked up the 

CND mission in 1999 and became responsible for CNA on 1 October 2000. It is not 

yet clear how the command will organize to perform these new missions. One 

proposal is for a unified subcommand but that option along with others is the subject 

of a yearlong study scheduled for completion on 1 October 2001. See George I. 

Seffers, “Cyberwar Ops May Unify,” Federal Computer Week, 30 October 2000, 12. 27 John A. Tirpak, “The Fight for Space,” Air Force Magazine 83, no. 8 (August 

2000): n.p.; on-line, Internet, 13 December 2000, available from 

http://www.afa.org/magazine/august2000/0800space.html. 28 Quoted in William B. Scott, “Cincspace: Focus More on Space Control,” Aviation 

Week & Space Technology, 15 November 2000, n.p.; on-line, Internet, 19 April 

2001, available from 

http://www.infowar.com/MIL_C4I/00/mil_c4I_111500b_j.shtml. 

29 Futron Corporation, Satellite Industry Guide (Bethesda, Md.: Futron Corporation, 

October 1999). 

30 Ibid., x. 

31 United States GDP figures are available from the Commerce Department’s Bureau 

of Economic Analysis at 

http://www.bea.doc.gov/bea/ARTICLES/2001/08august/0801GDP.pdf. Aerospace 

does not qualify as a separate subset within manufacturing but manufacturing of all

durable goods accounts for only 9.4 percent of GDP. 

32 “The Fortune 500 List,” is available from http://www.fortune.com/. The Fortune

500 list for 2001 is based on data from 2000. Most major aerospace corporations do 

not report space-only revenues or categorize this part of their business in consistent 

ways. 

33 Ibid. and Space Commission Report, 11. 

34 $572.945 billion for the energy sector versus $186.081 billion for the aerospace 

sector. And, again, this represents the all the revenues from aerospace corporations 

rather than the fraction attributable to space activities. 
SPACEPOWER 

40

 35 “Comparison of Aerospace Market Valuation to Top 25 U.S. Companies—End of 

CY 1999,” Slide 31 of “Space Industry 2000 Study” presentation by Industrial 

College of the Armed Forces. 

36 Elaine Gresham, “SIA/Futron Satellite Industry Indicators Survey: 1999/2000 

Survey Results,” Futron Corporation Slide Presentation to the Office of Net 

Assessment, the Pentagon, 21 November 2000, slide 6. 

37 Phil McAlister, “1999 Year in Review,” Futron Corporation Slide Presentation to 

Office of Net Assessment, the Pentagon, 21 November 2000, slide 12. 

38 Ibid., slide 10; and Marco Antonio Cáceres, “Expendables Face Tough Market,” 

Aviation Week & Space Technology, 15 January 2001, 145. 2001 was the slowest 

year for space launches in nearly 40 years with only 58 successful orbital launches. 

“Tsyklon booster launches with cargo of six satellites,” Spaceflight Now, 28 

December 2001. Available from 

http://www.spaceflightnow.com/news/n0112/28tsyklon/. 

39 Ibid. and Satellite Industry Guide, xiii-xvi. 40 Gresham, slide 5. 

41 Ibid., 2-4. 

42 Colonel David A. Anhalt, “The Changing Nature of Military Advantage in 

Satellite Communication,” Presentation Slides for USSPACECOM, 26 October 

2000, slide 11. Slide derived from Mel Mandell, “120,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” 

IEEE Spectrum, April 2000, 50. 43 Ibid. DWDM uses different wavelengths of laser light within each strand of fiber. 

The capacity of one strand of fiber using DWDM is 1000 Gigabits per second 

(Gbps). The Hughes Network Systems Spaceway wireless broadband (Ka-band) 

system is scheduled to begin operation over North America in 2002 using two 

Boeing 702 GEO comsats and have a capacity of 10 Gbps. 

44 Gresham, slide 5. 

45 Satellite Industry Guide, 3-17. 46 McAlister, slide 3. 

47 Rep. Christopher Cox (R.-Calif.) led a six-month long House Select Committee 

investigation that produced the “U.S. National Security and Military/Commercial 

Concerns with the People’s Republic of China” Report that was released on 25 May 

1999. The report is available from http://www.house.gov/coxreport. 

48 Satellite builders claim that their exports dropped 59 percent in 2000 and that since 

March 1999 their share of the global market declined sharply (from 75 percent to 45 

percent). Not surprisingly, they place most of the blame for this decline squarely on 

their problems with export controls. See Evelyn Iritani and Peter Pae, “U.S. Satellite 

Industry Reeling Under New Export Controls,” Los Angeles Times, 11 December 

2000, 1. According to Space News, 2000 marked the first time that U.S. firms were 

awarded fewer contracts for GEO comsats than their European competitors (they 

show the Europeans ahead 15 to 13). See Peter B. de Selding and Sam Silverstein, 

“Europe Bests U.S. in Satellite Contracts in 2000,” Space News, 15 January 2001, 1 

and 20. This issue has attracted a great deal of attention in the trade press and 

elsewhere. See, for example, Representative Dana Rohrabacher, “Reconciling 
HAYS 

41

 

Commerce with National Security,” Space News, 12 April 1999; Peter B. de Selding 

and Warren Ferster, “NATO Allies Decry New U.S. Export Policies,” Space News, 

26 April 1999, 1, 28; Warren Ferster, “Senators Propose Even Tougher Export 

Reviews,” Space News, 7 June 1999, 1, 28; Ray A. Williamson, “Time to Repair the 

Damage to Industry,” Space News, 14 June 1999, 26; Vernon Loeb, “Satellite Firms 

Chafe at New Export Controls,” Washington Post, 12 May 1999, 6; Andrew Pollack, 

“Export Rules are Said to be a Threat to Satellite Industry,” New York Times, 1 

August 1999; and James Hackett, “Satellite Industry Ensnared,” Washington Times, 

5 August 1999, 17. One particularly difficult, but perhaps overlooked, dimension of 

this problem is the fact that only about 20 percent of the space launch insurance 

business is based in the U.S. and the State Department’s rules now make it very hard 

and time consuming for U.S. space businesses to conduct meaningful negotiations 

with foreign insurers. 

49 Gresham, slide 5. 

50 Ibid. 

51 The 5 August 1994 National Space Transportation Policy is available from 

http://www.hq.nasa.gov/office/codez/nstc4.html. 

52 Lockheed-Martin was the prime contractor for the X-33 and Orbital Sciences 

Corporation was the prime for the X-34. Both of these RLV programs ran into very 

significant technical and programmatic challenges, raising questions whether either 

system might replace the Space Shuttle or lead to an operational commercial variant. 

Anticipating increasing demand for launch vehicles, the Air Force is helping to 

provide funding for two EELV development programs rather than following the 

normal process of selecting a single system for development. In October 1998, the 

Air Force awarded $500 million each to the Boeing Delta IV and the LockheedMartin Atlas 5 EELV programs. Both contractors are investing approximately twice 

as much of their own money (approximately $1 billion each) in these families of 

medium-to-heavy boosters. The first government EELV payloads are scheduled for 

launch beginning in 2002. See William B. Scott, “EELV Funding: Is It Enough?” 

Aviation Week & Space Technology 1 March 1999, 27. 53 About $1.2 billion was spent on the X-33 program since it began in 1996 ($350 

million from Lockheed Martin and $912 million from NASA). See Peter Pae, 

“Lockheed Asks Air Force to Fund X-33 Craft Revival,” Los Angeles Times, 14 

April 2001; Frank Morring, “NASA Eyes Military Role in Aerospace Push,” 

Aviation Week & Space Technology, 23 April 2001, 36; and Brian Berger and 

Jeremy Singer, “USAF Plans Major Funding for a Space Plane by 2004,” Space 

News, 24 September 2001, 4. 54 The seven companies attempting to develop commercial RLVs are: Kelly Space 

and Technology, Kistler Aerospace Corporation, Pioneer Rocketplane, Rotary 

Rocket Company, Space Access LLC, Vela Technology Development, and 

Lockheed Martin Skunk Works. See McAlister, slide 7. In January 2001, officials 

from Kern County, Calif. threatened to seize Rotary Rocket assets and auction them 

off to pay property taxes owed by the company. “Rotary Rocket’s Assets Seized,” 
SPACEPOWER 

42

 

on-line, Internet, 3 January 2001, available from 

http://www.space.com/news/roton_auction_000102_wg.html. 

55 Paul Meller, “Europe Plans Full Inquiry on G.E.-Honeywell Deal,” New York 

Times, 9 May 2001. 56 “EU Kills GE-Honeywell,” on-line, Internet, 28 August 2001, available from 

http://cnnfn.cnn.com/2001/07/03/europe/ge_eu/. 57 Current GPS policy is spelled out in Office of Science and Technology Policy and 

the National Security Council, “Fact Sheet: U.S. Global Positioning System Policy,” 

(Washington, D.C.: The White House, 29 March 1996). 

58 See, for example, Brig Gen Simon Peter Worden, “The Air Force and Future 

Space Directions: Are We Good Stewards?” Aerospace Power Journal 15, no. 1 

(Spring 2001): 50-57; and Lt Gen Bruce Carlson, “Protecting Global Utilities,” 

Aerospace Power Journal 14, no. 2 (Summer 2000): 37–41. For a more detailed 

development of this argument with a focus on distinctions between the role of armies 

and navies, see Brig Gen Simon P. Worden, “Space Control for the 21st Century: A 

Space ‘Navy’ Protecting the Basis of America’s Wealth,” in Hays et al., Spacepower 

for a New Millennium, 225–38. 

59 Several of these individuals were quite prolific; the following list represents their 

best known works: Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 

1660-1783 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1980); Julian S. Corbett, Some Principles of 

Maritime Strategy, ed. by Eric J. Grove (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1988. 

First published 1911); Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, ed. by Richard H. 

Kohn and Joseph P. Harahan (Washington, D.C.: Office of Air Force History, 1983. 

First published 1921); William Mitchell, Winged Defense: The Development and 

Possibilities of Modern Airpower—Economic and Military (New York: Dover, 

1988. First published 1925); and John A. Warden III, The Air Campaign: Planning 

for Combat (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University Press, 1988). On the 

importance of these works see, Jon Tetsuro Sumida, Inventing Grand Strategy and 

Teaching Command: The Classic Works of Alfred Thayer Mahan Reconsidered

(Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1997); Philip S. Meilinger, ed. 

The Paths of Heaven: The Evolution of Airpower Theory (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air 

University Press, 1997); and David R. Mets, The Air Campaign: John Warden and 

the Classical Airpower Theorists (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, April 

1999). 

60 Virtually all of these concepts are applied throughout the Chief of Staff-directed 

yearlong study by Air University that is published as SPACECAST 2020 (Maxwell 

AFB, Ala.: Air University, 1994). See also, for example, Arnold H. Streland, 

“Clausewitz on Space: Developing Military Space Theory through a Comparative 

Analysis,” Air Command and Staff College Research Paper, April 1999; and Charles 

H. Cynamon, “Protecting Commercial Space Systems: A Critical National Security 

Issue,” Air Command and Staff College Research Paper, April 1999. 

61 In 1997, then-CINCSPACE Howell M. Estes III attempted to remedy the lack of a 

comprehensive space-power vision or theory by commissioning Dr. Brian R. 

Sullivan to write a book on space-power theory. This project was taken over by 
HAYS 

43

 

James Oberg and published as Space Power Theory (Washington, D.C.: 

Government Printing Office, 1999). On the enduring nature of strategy and 

problems with developing space-power theory, see also Colin S. Gray and John B. 

Shelton, “Spacepower and the Revolution in Military Affairs: A Glass Half-Full,” in 

Spacepower for a New Millennium, 239–58; and Colin S. Gray, Modern Strategy

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 243–67. The 2001 publications by Watts, 

Lambakis, and especially Dolman (The Military Use of Space, On the Edge of Earth, 

and Astropolitik) will undoubtedly go a long way towards filling the yawning 

spacepower theory gap in the literature. 

62 Hays and Mueller. “Going Boldly—Where?” 37. 

63 Lt Col Dennis M. Drew, “Of Leaves and Trees: A New View of Doctrine,” Air 

University Review 33, no. 2 (January–February 1982): 40–48; Lt Col Charles D. 

Friedenstein, “The Uniqueness of Space Doctrine,” Air University Review 37, no. 1 

(November–December 1985): 13–23; and Col Kenneth A. Myers and Lt Col John 

G. Tockston, “Real Tenets of Military Space Doctrine,” Airpower Journal 2, no. 4 

(Winter 1988): 54–68. 

64 The Air Force published AFM 1-6 on 15 October 1982, and its release was 

designed to coincide closely with the stand-up of Air Force Space Command on 1 

September 1982. For a detailed critique of AFM 1-6, see Peter L. Hays, “Struggling 

towards Space Doctrine: U.S. Military Space Plans, Programs, and Perspectives 

during the Cold War,” unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Fletcher School of Law and 

Diplomacy, Tufts University, May 1994, 400–422. 

65 Friedenstein, 21, 22. 

66 Myers and Tockston, 59. A more up-to-date and outstanding blueprint for 

developing space doctrine is provided by Maj Robert D. Newberry, Space Doctrine 

for the Twenty-First Century (Maxwell AFB, Ala.: Air University Press, October 

1998). 

67 Turner first presented his ideas in a paper, “The Significance of the Frontier in 

American History,” at a gathering of historians in Chicago, site of the World’s 

Columbian Exposition, an enormous fair to mark the four-hundredth anniversary of 

Columbus’ voyage. 

68 Cited in New Perspectives on the West, on-line, Internet, 20 May 2001, available 

from http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/people/s_z/turner.htm. 

69 Ibid. 

70 The original Star Trek series aired from 1966-68. Creator Gene Roddenberry 

originally sold the series concept to the NBC network as Wagon Train in space. 

Science fiction has probably been more important in shaping our perceptions of 

spacepower than any other single factor. Gerard K. O’Neill, The High Frontier: 

Human Colonies in Space (New York, Morrow, 1977). 

Report of the National Commission on Space, Pioneering the Space Frontier: An 

Exciting Vision of Our Next Fifty Years in Space (New York: Bantam Books, 1986). 

See, for example, Senator Bob Smith, “The Challenge of Space Power,” Airpower 

Journal 13, no. 1 (Spring 1999): 32-39. 
SPACEPOWER 

44

 71 Gerard K. O’Neill founded the Space Studies Institute at Princeton University in 

1977 and is probably most famous for The High Frontier. Representative works in 

this tradition include James E. Oberg and Alcestis R. Oberg, Pioneering Space: 

Living on the Next Frontier (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1986) and Robert Zubrin, 

Entering Space: Creating a Spacefaring Civilization (New York: Jeremy P. 

Tarcher/Putnam, 1999). Carl Sagan cofounded the Planetary Society in 1980 and 

was one of the most famous and articulate spokesmen for planetary science; Pale 

Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space (New York: Random House, 

1994) was one of the last major books before his death in 1996. Frank White, The 

Overview Effect: Space Exploration and Human Evolution (Boston: Houghton 

Mifflin, 1987). 

72 McDougall, 4. 

73 Ibid., 460-61. 

74 Available from the Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments website, 

http://www.csbaonline.org/2Strategic_Studies/1Revolution_in_Military_Affairs/Rev

olution_Military_Affairs.htm. 

75 Ibid. 

76 Ibid. 

77 Gray and Shelton, “Spacepower and the Revolution in Military Affairs,” in 

Spacepower for a New Millennium, 239–58. Emphasis in original. 78 Headquarters Space and Missile System Center, Developmental Planning 

Directorate and Headquarters Air Force Space Command, Directorate for Plans and 

Programs, Final Report: Commercial Space Opportunities Study (Los Angeles 

AFB, Calif.: Commercial Exploitation Planning Office, 16 February 2000). 

79 Ibid., quotation from ES-4. 

80 Space Commission Report, 72. 

81 CSOS, ES-5, 3-2. 

82 Estimating actual costs-per-pound-to-orbit for various launch vehicles is a cottage 

industry and such calculations are well beyond the scope of this paper. Two 

outstanding recent discussions of basic problems with spacelift and current launch 

programs are found in Oberg, 87-95; and Watts, The Military Use of Space 55-63. 83 CSOS, 3-2. 

84 Ibid., 3-5. 

85 Ibid., 3-4. 

86 Ibid. 

87 Ibid., 3-6, 3-9; and Lieutenant General Lance Lord, “Range Modernization: The 

Rest of the Story,” Space News, 22 March 1999, 13. 88 CSOS, 3-8. 

89 PDD-23 is explained in a press release and fact sheet released on 10 March 1994 

(available from http://www.fas.org/irp/offdocs/pdd23-2.htm). The press release 

quoted Vice President Al Gore on the many advantages of improved resolution for 

benign civil applications and environmental monitoring and the importance of the 

$15 billion total annual worldwide market for remote sensing data and applications 

that were expected to develop by the year 2000. The fact sheet covers the specifics 
HAYS 

45

 

of PDD-23 in considerable detail. Significant restrictions on commercial U.S. 

remote sensing systems remain in effect including licensee requirements to: 

 Maintain a record of all satellite taskings for the previous year and allow the 

USG access to this record. 

 Refrain from making changes to satellite operational characteristics without 

formal approval from the Department of Commerce. 

 Limit data collection and distribution when the Secretaries of Defense or State 

determine that national security, international obligations, and/or foreign policy 

may be compromised. The actual decision to limit data will be made only be the 

Secretary of Commerce in consultation with the Secretaries of Defense and 

State. (This restriction is known as shutter control). 

 Use only USG approved encryption devices for the purpose of denying 

unauthorized access to others during periods when national security, 

international obligations, and/or foreign policy may be compromised. The data 

downlink format must allow USG data access during these periods. 

 Notify the USG in advance of intent to enter into significant or substantial 

agreements with new foreign customers. 

PDD-23 also allows for the transfer of “turnkey” advanced capability U.S. remote 

sensing systems on a case-by-case basis, subject to significant diplomatic steps that 

may include a formal government-to-government agreement. The most stringent 

restrictions are placed on the sale of sensitive components, subsystems, and 

information on the U.S. Munitions List for U.S.-unique remote sensing capabilities. 

These transfers will be made only on the basis of a government-to-government 

agreement. 

 To date, shutter control has not been formally requested or invoked. For the 

campaign against terrorism in Afghanistan, NIMA has established de facto shutter 

control by signing an “agreement of assured access” with the Space Imaging 

Corporation, reportedly for $1.9 million per month. Under the terms of this 

agreement, Space Imaging is not to sell or share its Afghanistan theater imagery with 

anyone except the USG until 5 December, and the contract may be extended beyond 

that date. Kerry Gildea, “NIMA Extends Deal with Space Imaging for Exclusive 

Imagery Over Afghanistan,” Defense Daily, 7 November 2001, 2; and “Eye Spy,” 

The Economist, 10-16 November 2001. This agreement opens many interesting 

issues related to the utility of limiting information dissemination for public 

diplomacy, the media, and exploitation of enemy information channels. It also raises 

the issue of whether this agreement using market mechanisms has set a precedent 

that might well make it more difficult to invoke formal shutter control in the future. 

For background and analysis on this issue see, Lt Col Peter L. Hays and Lt Col Roy 

F. Houchin, II, “Commercial Spysats and Shutter Control: The Military Implications 

of U.S. Policy on Selling and Restricting Commercial Remote Sensing Data,” paper 

prepared for the USAF Institute for National Security Studies, 1 October 1999. 

90 The first commercial one-meter resolution remote sensing system became 

operational following the successful launch of the Ikonos 2 satellite aboard a 

Lockheed-Martin Athena II booster from Vandenberg AFB on 24 September 1999. 
SPACEPOWER 

46

 

See Vernon Loeb, “Spy Satellite Will Take Photos for Public Sale,” Washington 

Post, 25 September 1999, 3. The Ikonos system can provide resolutions of 0.82 

meters ground sample distance per pixel for digitized panchromatic images and four 

meters for multispectral images. EarthWatch’s QuickBird 1 was launched aboard a 

Cosmos 3M ELV from Plesetsk on 21 November 2000 but failed to reach the proper 

orbit and was presumed destroyed. Jason Bates, “QuickBird Loss Hits Firm, Remote 

Sensing Industry,” Space News, 4 December 2000, 3. ImageSat (formerly West 

Indian Space)—a joint venture between two Israeli companies (Israel Aircraft 

Industries and Electro-Optics Industries) and Core Software of Pasadena, 

California—successfully launched its EROS A1 0.82-meter resolution system (that is 

derived from Israel’s Ofeq 3 spysat) aboard a Start 1 ELV from Svobodni, Siberia on 

5 December 2000. ImageSat “does not believe it is subject to U.S. jurisdiction 

regarding export licenses.” See “West Indian Space Changes Name to ImageSat, 

Announces Product Offerings,” SPACEandTECH Digest, on-line, Internet, 23 

January 2001, available from http://www.spaceandtech.com/digest/sd2000-

22/sd2000-22-007.shtml; and ImageSat’s website, http://www.imagesatintl.com. In 

December 2000, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) 

awarded the first two half-meter resolution licenses to Space Imaging and 

EarthWatch. The half-meter licenses “contain a provision that calls for a 24-hour 

delay from collection of an image to distribution to a customer.” See Jason Bates, 

“U.S. approves Licenses for Two Imaging Satellites with Half-Meter Resolution,” 

Space.com, 18 December 2000, on-line, Internet, 19 December 2000, available from 

http://www.space.com/businesstechnology/business/satellite_licenses_001212.html. 

 EarthWatch’s corporate roots go back to WorldView Imaging (the first licensee 

for a high-resolution commercial system) and Ball Aerospace. Space Imaging’s 

lineage includes the Eosat, Lockheed-Martin, and Raytheon corporations. In 

addition, from the 1950s until losing a $4.5 billion NRO Future Imagery 

Architecture (FIA) contract to Boeing in 1999, Lockheed had been the NRO’s 

primary spysat contractor. See Tim Smart, “Lockheed Loses Big U.S. Contract,” 

Washington Post, 8 September 1999, E1. OrbImage is a corporate affiliate of the 

Orbital Sciences Corporation. On the security implications of high-resolution 

commercial remote sensing see Yahya A. Dehqanzada and Ann M. Florini, Secrets 

for Sale: How Commercial Satellite Imagery Will Change the World (Washington, 

D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2000); Gerald M. Steinberg, 

“Dual Use Aspects of Commercial High-Resolution Imaging Satellites,” Security 

and Policy Studies No. 37, (Bar-Ilan University, Israel: Begin-Sadat Center for 

Strategic Studies, February 1998); and Vipin Gupta, “New Satellite Images for 

Sale,” International Security 20 (Summer 1995): 94-125. 

91 CSOS, 3-13. 

92 Report of the National Commission for the Review of the National 

Reconnaissance Office, The NRO at the Crossroads (Washington, D.C.: National 

Commission for the Review of the National Reconnaissance Office, 1 November 

2000), quotations from pages 67, 74, and 71. 
HAYS 

47

 93 Report of the Independent Commission on the National Imagery and Mapping 

Agency, The Information Edge: Imagery Intelligence and Geospatial Information in 

an Evolving National Security Environment (Washington, D.C.: Independent 

Commission on the National Imagery and Mapping Agency, December 2000), 

quotations from pages viii, 60, and 33. 

94 Ibid., 56. 

95 Ibid., 16. On DOD’s pledge to buy $1 billion worth of commercial imagery over 

the FYDP see, for example, Warren Ferster, “U.S. to Buy Private Imagery for 

Intelligence,” Space News, 12 April 1999, 1 and 34. 96 The Information Edge, 89. 97 Ibid., 90. 

98 CSOS, 3-14. Sales of GPS equipment and services are expected to exceed $16 

billion by 2003. See Stephen G. Moran, “GPS Policy: Past Accomplishments and 

Future Opportunities,” Institute of Navigation Newsletter 8, no. 4 (Winter 1998-99), 

on-line, Internet, 17 January 2001, available from 

http://www.ion.org/newsletter/v8n4.html. 

99 Block II satellites, the satellites that completed the first full-scale constellation, 

were built by Rockwell International and launched from February 1989 through 

October 1990. Rockwell International was also the prime contractor for Block IIA; 

these satellites have a design life of 7.3 years, contain two Cesium and two 

Rubidium atomic clocks (the primary driver of overall system accuracy), have 

Selective Availability (SA) and Anti-Spoof (A-S) capabilities, and were launched 

November 1990 through November 1997. Lockheed-Martin is the prime contractor 

for Block IIR satellites; these satellites have a design life of 7.8 years, contain three 

Rubidium atomic clocks and SA and A-S capabilities, and are designed with crosslinks that allow up to 180 days of autonomous operations. Block IIR satellites were 

first launched in January 1997 and the most recent launch was on 30 January 2001. 

See United States Naval Observatory (USNO) Automated Data Service (ADS), 

“Block II Satellite Information,” on-line, Internet, 31 January 2001, available from 

http://tycho.usno.navy.mil/gpscurr.html. “SA was a technique to reduce the 

accuracy of unaugmented, single-receiver GPS measurements. This was 

accomplished by altering (or ‘dithering’) the GPS satellite clock signals, and by 

modifying orbital elements of the broadcast navigation message. These alterations 

were done in a coded fashion, and could be removed by authorized users. This 

alteration caused horizontal position errors on the order of 100 meters (95%), and 

varied in a manner that prevented rapid averaging of positional data.” SA was first 

implemented on 25 March 1990 on all Block II satellites. It was discontinued in 

September 1990 in order to provide better support to the U.S. and allied forces in 

Operation Desert Storm who had to rely on civilian GPS receivers because there 

were not enough military receivers capable of receiving the encoded precise 

positioning signal. SA was returned to standard level on 1 July 1991. With SA set 

to zero, users should “immediately expect better than 20 meter horizontal accuracy 

on the ground.” The largest error sources are now solar disturbance of the 

ionosphere and the orbital parameters broadcast on the navigation message; if these 
SPACEPOWER 

48

 

are controlled, “one may be able to achieve around 1-3 meter positioning.” 

Discontinuation of SA will not eliminate the need for systems that use Differential 

GPS (“a technique to improve GPS accuracy by incorporating error corrections 

provided by a GPS monitoring station”) such as the Federal Aviation 

Administration’s (FAA) Wide Area Augmentation System (WAAS). See Removal 

of GPS Selective Availability (SA), “GPS & Selective Availability Q & A,” on-line, 

Internet, 31 January 2001, available from 

http://www.ngs.noaa.gov/FGCS/info/sans_SA/docs/GPS_SA_Event_QAs.pdf. 100 Office of Science and Technology Policy and National Security Council, “Fact 

Sheet: U.S. Global Positioning Policy,” (Washington, D.C.: The White House, 29 

March 1996). Available from http://www.ostp.gov/html/gps-factsheet.html. 

USSPACECOM established the Navigation Warfare (Navwar) program to protect 

U.S. and allied military GPS use within an area of operations, prevent enemy 

exploitation of GPS, and preserve civil GPS service outside military areas of 

operations. 

101 The White House, Office of the Press Secretary, “Statement of the President 

Regarding the United States’ Decision to Stop Degrading Global Positioning System 

Accuracy,” 1 May 2000, available on-line from 

http://www.ostp.gov/html/0053_2.html. 

102 Ibid. 103 A.J. Van Dierendonck and Chris Hegarty, “The New L5 Civil GPS Signal,” GPS 

World Online, on-line, Internet, 24 January 2001, available from 

http://www.gpsworld.com/1000/1000inov.html. The JCS spells out basic military 

policy on PNT and the use of GPS as follows: “General Military Policy. In 

conducting military operations described in Joint Vision 2020, it is essential that 

PNT services be available with the highest possible confidence. These services must 

meet or exceed mission requirements. In order to meet these mission requirements, 

military operators may use a mix of independent, self-contained, and externally 

referenced PNT systems. DOD PNT users may use US civil PNT systems for 

peacetime operations where their use does not jeopardize DOD’s ability to carry out 

its military mission. Civil PNT systems will not be used for combat, combat support, 

and combat service support operations. Use of foreign PNT systems is prohibited 

unless a specific memorandum of agreement (MOA) has been established with that 

respective nation. DOD ships and aircraft may use civil PNT system(s) in peacetime 

scenarios as long as the system(s) in use meet International Maritime Organization 

(IMO), International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO), and/or FAA 

specifications. Global Positioning System. GPS is now and will continue to be the 

primary radio-navigation system source of PNT information for the Department of 

Defense. All DOD combatant users must acquire, train with, and use GPS systems 

capable of receiving the encrypted, military GPS signal, the Precise Positioning 

Service (PPS). The National Defense Authorization Act for FY 1994 (Public Law 

103-160), as amended by National Defense Authorization Act for FY 1999 (Public 

Law 105-261), mandates that ‘. . . after September 30, 2005, funds may not be 

obligated to modify or procure any Department of Defense aircraft, ship, armored 
HAYS 

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vehicle, or indirect-fire weapon system that is not equipped with a Global 

Positioning System receiver.’ DOD PNT users may use civilian GPS augmentations 

for peacetime operations where their use does not jeopardize DOD’s ability to carry 

out its military mission. Examples include the US Coast Guard’s Differential Global 

Positioning System (DGPS) and the Federal Aviation Administration’s Wide Area 

Augmentation System (WAAS) and Local Area Augmentation System (LAAS), 

currently under development. It is essential for users to understand that these 

systems may not be reliable during conflict, as they do not incorporate the same level 

of security and survivability as military systems.” 2000 CJCS Master Positioning, 

Navigation, and Timing Plan, CJCSI 6130.01B (Washington, D.C.: Chairman of the 

Joint Chiefs of Staff, Department of Defense, 15 June 2000), A-1 through A-2, 

available from http://www.dtic.mil/doctrine/jel/cjcsd/cjcsi/6130_01b.pdf. 104 The current and near-term inventory of GPS-enhanced PGMs includes the 

Conventionally Armed Air Launched Cruise Missile (CALCM), the Joint Air to 

Surface Standoff Missile (JASSM), the Joint Standoff Weapon (JSOW), and the 

Joint Direct Attack Munition (JDAM). See John A. Tirpak, “Brilliant Weapons,” Air 

Force Magazine 81 (February 1998); available online at 

http://www.afa.org/magazine/0298brill.html. On GPS use in the Gulf War in 1991 

and the Air War over Serbia in 1999, see Watts, “Military Use of Space,” 41-46. In 

1999, B-2 bombers using JDAMs and their GPS-aided targeting system were able to 

hit within approximately five meters of their intended target when bombing from 

40,000 feet. In addition, JDAMs are relatively inexpensive for PGMs at less than 

$20,000 per round. 

105 Mr. Keith R. Hall, “Presentation to the Committee on Armed Services 

Subcommittee on Strategic Forces,” Washington, D.C.: United States Senate, 8 

March 2000, available on-line from http://www.nro.gov/speeches/sppo3-8.html. 106 “GPS & Selective Availability Q & A.” 107 Michael Shaw, Kanwaljit Sandhoo, and David Turner, “Modernization of the 

Global Positioning System,” GPS World Online, on-line, Internet, 18 January 2001, 

available from http://www.gpsworld.com/1000/1000shaw.html. Finding and 

securing permission to use portions of the frequency spectrum requires extensive 

domestic and international coordination (with agencies such as the Federal 

Communication Commission and the International Telecommunications Union) and 

can be among the most difficult and time-consuming aspects of developing an 

operational space system. L1 is located at 1575.42 MHz, L2 at 1227.60 MHz, 108 Russia is marketing handheld GPS jammers with effective ranges of 80 and 192 

kilometers. See Space Commission Report, 19-20; and Tom Wilson, “Threats to 

United States Space Capabilities,” Paper Prepared for the Commission to Assess 

United States National Security Space Management and Organization, available 

from https://www.space.gov/commission/support-docs/article05/article05.html. 
SPACE-RELATED ARMS CONTROL AND REGULATION 

TO 2015: PRECEDENTS AND PROSPECTS

Prior to the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade 

Center and the Pentagon, a confluence of trends and recent developments had 

elevated national security space issues close to the top of the American 

defense policy agenda. Within the span of the last decade commercial space 

activities grew at such a rapid pace that they moved from being the smallest 

to the largest sector of space activity.1

 This trend is likely to accelerate and 

carries large national security implications because most space technologies 

and systems are inherently dual-use. Questions concerning how to balance 

economic considerations with national security concerns are and will remain 

key issues in U.S. space policy for the foreseeable future. During 2000, 

national security space issues were carefully reviewed in three of the most 

important congressionally mandated studies ever convened on this subject: 

The National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) Commission, the National 

Imagery and Mapping Agency (NIMA) Commission, and the Commission to 

Assess National Security Space Management and Organization (Space 

Commission).2

 The emergence of a strong commercial space sector and 

these studies—along with the arrival of the George W. Bush Administration; 

the installation of Donald H. Rumsfeld as Secretary of Defense; and ongoing 

sweeping changes in senior military leadership positions including General 

Richard B. Myers as the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General 

John P. Jumper as the new Chief of Staff of the Air Force, and General Lance 

W. Lord in the new four-star billet as commander of Air Force Space 

Command—create an outstanding opportunity to examine current space 

issues. The role of arms control and other regulatory mechanisms in 

structuring the interrelationships between economic considerations, space, 

and global security are fundamental issues that are ripe for reexamination in 

this context. 

Arms control is a complex and contentious field of study within global 

politics. There is, for example, little consensus on how effective arms 

control was in stabilizing the superpower relationship during the Cold War or 

on the role that arms control played in ending the Cold War.3

 The proper 

scope for analysis within this field is also controversial. Some analysts argue 

that the field is best construed narrowly and they focus almost entirely on 

armaments and formal treaties. Others believe that the field is much more 

useful when viewed in a broader way and include in their analysis other 

regulatory structures and fields that relate to security issues. Even the proper 

objectives of arms control remain unclear. The three “classic” objectives of 

reducing the likelihood of war, reducing the severity of war if it should 
SPACEPOWER 

50

occur, and reducing the costs of preparing for war may not be broad enough 

to capture the most salient multidimensional security challenges in the postCold War world.4

For reasons that should become clearer in the analysis below, this essay 

bolsters the skeptical view on the importance of space arms control during 

the Cold War and construes the field broadly in order to examine regulatory 

mechanisms for space more comprehensively. The growth in commercial 

space activity and the inherently dual-use nature of most space systems make 

the interrelationships between space and security more complex and 

multidimensional than ever. Given these fundamental trends, it seems clear 

that only broad approaches to space arms control and regulation stand much 

chance of structuring the space security environment in significant and useful 

ways. It is far from clear, however, that such broad approaches can be 

developed, let alone implemented, or that they would necessarily benefit the 

United States. 

This essay looks at precedents in space arms control and regulatory 

mechanisms, evaluates the utility of these mechanisms in dealing with 

current challenges, and uses these challenges to speculate on the prospects 

for space arms control and regulation through 2015. It first examines the 

major precedents in space-related arms control. Table 3 contains a 

comprehensive overview of all arms control and international agreements 

that affect U.S. military operations in space. Instead of discussing all of 

these cases, this essay focuses on a few areas in greater depth. It then turns 

to speculate on the prospects for space arms control and regulation to 2015. 

It does so by assessing the potential for arms control and regulation in a 

number of areas that contain elements of conflict or controversy today and 

that are likely to remain contentious into the future. In addition to the 

longstanding and unresolved controversies over weaponizing space, this 

essay also discusses: high-altitude nuclear detonations; commercial highresolution remote sensing; global utilities such as the positioning and timing 

signals provided by the global positioning system (GPS); and crowding of 

radio spectrum, orbital debris, and space traffic control. 

Table 35

Impact of Arms Control and Other International Agreements on 

United States Military Operations in Space 

Prohibited/Constrained 

Activity 

Source of Prohibition Comments 

Nuclear testing and 

nuclear explosions in 

space 

Limited Test Ban 

Treaty 

Nuclear detonations in space 

could be highly effective in 

disrupting U.S. space systems 
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Appropriation of space 

or celestial bodies by 

claims of sovereignty 

Outer Space Treaty No prohibition against space 

mining; establishment of 

permanent “keep out zones” 

probably not acceptable 

Deploying weapons of 

mass destruction in space 

Outer Space Treaty; 

Geneva Protocol; 

Biological/Chemical 

Weapons 

Conventions; 

START I 

Nuclear, chemical, and 

biological weapons banned; 

Deployment, and support of 

nuclear-powered space 

objects, conventional weapons 

and passive systems not 

constrained 

Building military bases 

on celestial bodies 

Outer Space Treaty No prohibition against military 

space stations in orbit 

Testing weapons of any 

kind on celestial bodies 

Outer Space Treaty No prohibition against testing 

of conventional weapons in 

free space 

Conducting military 

maneuvers on celestial 

bodies 

Outer Space Treaty Conducting military 

maneuvers in free space 

permitted 

Interfering with other 

states’ space-related 

activities without prior 

consultations 

Outer Space Treaty Should not jam, blind, or 

otherwise disrupt unless 

required for self-defense or 

during hostilities 

Causing harmful 

contamination of the 

Moon or other celestial 

bodies 

Outer Space Treaty; 

Environmental 

Modification 

Convention 

Threatening use of force 

against another state’s 

territorial integrity 

United Nations 

Charter; Outer Space 

Treaty 

Necessary and proportional 

self-defense is permitted 

Hindering the rescue and 

return of astronauts and 

space objects 

Astronaut Rescue 

Agreement 

Inspection of space objects 

before return to launching 

party (in order to assess 

capability) not prohibited 

Avoid paying 

compensation for 

damage caused by space 

objects on surface of 

Earth or to aircraft in 

flight 

Convention for 

International Liability 

for Damage Caused 

by Space Objects 

Political risk in admitting 

causation 
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52

Launching space objects 

without notifying the 

United Nations (UN) 

Convention on the 

Registration of Space 

Objects 

Operational security issue for 

covert activity; amount of 

detail provided on purpose; 

timing of notification; 

subsequent maneuvering of 

space object 

Causing damage 

“elsewhere” (i.e., space) 

Convention for 

International Liability 

for Damage Caused 

by Space Objects 

Liability depends on 

determination of fault 

Numerical and locational 

restrictions on ICBMs 

and SLBMs used to 

launch objects into 

space, as well as the 

launchers and space 

launch facilities used to 

support them 

START I Currently minor impact to 

space launch flexibility; ICBM 

and SLBM boosters are not 

normally used to support 

military space launches 

Broadcast, record, and 

provide unencrypted 

telemetry on ICBM or 

SLBM used for 

delivering objects into 

the upper atmosphere or 

space 

START I For objects delivered by 

ICBMs or SLBMs into the 

upper atmosphere or space, the 

telemetry provisions only 

apply until the object(s) being 

delivered either are in orbit or 

have achieved escape velocity 

Advance notification 

requirement for any 

launch of an ICBM or 

SLBM (including space 

launches) 

START I; Ballistic 

Missile Launch 

Notification 

Agreement 

May influence testing and 

operations for space weapons 

concepts using ballistic 

missiles 

Airplanes that meet the 

definition of a heavy 

bomber are subject to 

START I provisions and 

restrictions 

START I As currently envisioned and 

unless otherwise agreed, the 

U.S. Air Force’s proposed 

Space Operations Vehicle 

could be captured as a heavy 

bomber under START I due to 

its expected range of greater 

than 8000 km 

Prohibition against 

interference with 

National Technical 

Means (NTM) or use of 

deliberate concealment 

measures 

ABM Treaty; 

START I; 

NTM assets used to support 

aggression may be considered 

legitimate space control 

targets 
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Pre and post-launch 

notification and 

exchange of early 

warning data for space 

launches 

Joint Data Exchange 

Center (JDEC) 

Memorandum of 

Agreement; Pre- and 

Post-Launch 

Notification System 

(PLNS) 

Memorandum of 

Understanding 

Not currently in effect; will 

commence once Joint Data 

Exchange Center is 

completed; agreements allow 

for “exceptions” 

Using environmental 

modification techniques 

on Earth or in space 

Environmental 

Modification 

Convention 

Creation of orbital debris or 

enhanced radiation belts 

illegal; changes to Earth’s 

weather or atmosphere also 

prohibited 

Developing, testing, or 

deploying air or spacebased ABM systems or 

components 

ABM Treaty Space-Based Infrared System 

(SBIRS); Space-Based Laser; 

Space Operations Vehicle; and 

space-based radar potentially 

impacted. Exotic technology 

systems and components 

subject to discussion 

Developing, testing, or 

deploying space-based 

interceptor missiles to 

counter theater ballistic 

missiles, or space-based 

components based on 

other physical principles, 

that are capable of 

substituting for such 

interceptor missiles 

Standing 

Consultative 

Commission Second 

Agreed Statement 

Relating to the ABM 

Treaty 

Space-Based Laser, and Space 

Operations Vehicle potentially 

impacted; there is some debate 

over whether these 

modifications are substantial 

enough to warrant submission 

to the Senate for their advice 

and consent 

Interfering with 

communication systems 

of other states without 

prior consultation 

International 

Telecommunication 

Convention 

Jamming or disruption only 

legitimate in self-defense or 

war 

SPACE ARMS CONTROL PRECEDENTS 

A number of space treaties and other regulatory mechanisms have been 

created since the opening of the space age in the 1950s. This section 

concentrates on the five most important regimes: the policies of President 

Dwight D. Eisenhower and subsequent administrations designed to legitimize 

reconnaissance satellite overflight, regulatory mechanisms for 

communications satellites, the Outer Space Treaty (OST), the Anti-Ballistic 
SPACEPOWER 

54

Missile (ABM) Treaty and the regime for space-based ballistic missile 

defenses (BMD), and anti-satellite (ASAT) developments and ASAT arms 

control. It emphasizes the most controversial and contentious parts of these 

regimes in order to highlight some of the most important challenges 

associated with interpretation, verification, and compliance. These current 

challenges foreshadow many of the largest problems for space arms control 

through 2015. 

Spysat Overflight Regime 

It would be difficult to overstate the importance of reconnaissance 

satellites (spysats) in world politics.6

 Spysats are often credited with 

stabilizing the relationship between the superpowers, enabling strategic arms 

control, and contributing to the transformation of the international system 

represented by the end of the Cold War. They have been described as “the 

most important technological development since thermonuclear weapons.”7

 

Their development and operation were triumphs for American technology 

and diplomacy. Despite their importance, however, spysats and even the 

legal regime that legitimizes their overflight remained shrouded in secrecy 

for more than three decades. The overflight regime with its secret roots 

emerged from the shadows as customary international law with very few 

codifying written references in treaties or elsewhere. Understanding the 

origins and evolution of the spysat overflight regime is an essential 

foundation for analyzing all other dimension of space policy and is an 

especially important subtext for evaluating space arms control and regulatory 

mechanisms. 

Eisenhower Administration Space Policy. The Eisenhower 

Administration structured the global arms control and legal regimes for space 

in fundamental and comprehensive ways. Much of space arms control, other 

regulatory mechanisms, and even the language still used today are the legacy 

of Eisenhower’s approach. The most important legacy of the Eisenhower 

Administration’s policy for opening the space age, however, was its secret 

design to create a legal regime that would legitimize overflight by spysats in 

order to open up the closed Soviet Union and stabilize the superpower 

relationship. In May 1955, the National Security Council secretly laid out 

these overriding priorities for United States space policy in NSC-5520—a 

policy President Eisenhower approved more than two years prior to the 

launch of Sputnik I on 4 October 1957.8

 The policy in NSC-5520 was the 

most important factor in shaping the opening of the space age and, in 

retrospect, it helps to explain much of the United States’ behavior during this 

period. It explains, for example, why the United States did not race the 
HAYS 

55

Soviets into space, why it used its International Geophysical Year (IGY) 

scientific satellite program as a “stalking horse” to test the acceptability of 

overflight, why it was not interested in drawing a clear demarcation line 

between air and space, and why it strongly emphasized that space is for 

“peaceful purposes” in public diplomacy.9

Following the Sputnik shock to America’s preferred self-image, in 

October 1958 the Eisenhower Administration created an explicitly civilian 

organization, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), to 

conduct its civil space program for science and exploration. NASA received 

the lion’s share of public attention, especially in the early years of the space 

age and during the Moon Race. By contrast, the very existence of the 

National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), the deep black organization created 

in August 1960 to procure and operate U.S. spysats, was not publicly 

acknowledged until September 1992.10 Eisenhower’s policy was also the 

strongest hand in guiding the development of early international space law. 

The United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space 

(COPUOS) was established in November 1958 and this body not only 

adopted the American rhetoric of space for peaceful purposes that 

legitimized overflight for spysats but more importantly it also shied away 

from creating overarching control mechanisms for space.11 Thus, by the end 

of its tenure, the Eisenhower Administration had established the basic and 

largely informal regulatory structure for space that remains in place today. 

The Limited Test Ban Treaty. The first substantive U.S.-U.S.S.R. 

arms control agreement of the Cold War era, the Limited Test Ban Treaty 

(LTBT), had several important space-related dimensions. The LTBT bans all 

types of nuclear testing except underground and was designed to address 

rising worldwide concerns about radioactive fallout from nuclear tests and 

perceptions of a spiraling arms race. The personal involvement of President 

John F. Kennedy and Premier Nikita S. Khrushchev following the Cuban 

Missile Crisis of October 1962 was an important part of bringing the LTBT 

negotiations to fruition. When the U.S.S.R., the U.K., and U.S. signed the 

LTBT in August 1963 they closed eight years of often highly contentious 

negotiations. The central and most persistent barrier to reaching agreement 

during the negotiations had been the issue of how to verify compliance with 

the ban. The U.S. Government (USG) turned to space to address this 

problem by instructing the Air Force to develop a secret and highly capable 

space-based nuclear detection system known as Vela Hotel as a primary 

means to verify compliance.12 Vela Hotel thus became the first space-based 

arms control compliance verification system—a function that would take on 

increasing importance in subsequent arms control agreements and become 

euphemistically referred to as “national technical means” of verification 
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(NTM). 

NTM in International Law. The spysat regime matured in important 

ways beginning in the 1960s. Following the successful operation of spysats 

by both parties in the early 1960s, the Soviets stopped objecting to U.S. 

spysat overflights and the superpowers reached an informal modus vivendi 

that legitimized space-based reconnaissance and surveillance.13 Article XII 

of the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty contains the most important 

and formalized legitimization of spysats in international law and is also 

where they are first called NTM. Prior to the ABM Treaty, most U.S.-

U.S.S.R. strategic arms control negotiation efforts had broken down, often 

over the contentious issue of how an agreement was to be verified. The 

United States consistently insisted on verification through on-site inspections 

(OSI) and the Soviet Union consistently rejected this intrusion on their 

national sovereignty. By 1968, however, U.S. policy-makers had enough 

faith in the data gathering capabilities of their NTM (mainly spysats), that 

they were willing to begin negotiating on an agreement that might not be 

verified by OSI. In this way spysats were the essential element in spanning 

the clear and wide conceptual divide between NTM and OSI—their promise 

helped to establish a new type of arms control regime based on a “bridge” of 

trust between the superpowers.14 They played a critical role in enabling the 

1969-72 Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT I) and their crucial role as 

NTM continued in almost every subsequent strategic arms control 

agreement. The language in Article XII of the ABM Treaty is repeated 

essentially verbatim in subsequent arms control treaties predicated on NTM 

verification such as the 1972 Interim Agreement, the 1974 Threshold Test 

Ban Treaty, the 1976 Peaceful Nuclear Explosions Treaty, and the 1979 

SALT II Treaty. Moreover, it is included in the treaties whose verification is 

also dependent on the OSI breakthrough reached at the end of the Cold War: 

the 1987 Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, and the 1991 and 

1993 Strategic Arms Reduction Treaties (START I and II).15

Three dimensions of NTM are particularly relevant to this discussion: 

their role as the primary enabler of arms control, the links between NTM 

capabilities and units of limitation in arms control treaties, and the level of 

protection that arms control treaties provide for NTM. Each dimension of 

the NTM-arms control relationship is addressed after examining the language 

in the treaty. The specific language in Article XII of the ABMT was 

carefully crafted and is very important: 

1. For the purposes of providing assurance of compliance 

with the provisions of this Treaty, each Party shall use 

national technical means of verification at its disposal in a 
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manner consistent with generally recognized principles of 

international law. 

2. Each Party undertakes not to interfere with the national 

technical means of verification of the other Party operating 

in accordance with paragraph 1 of this Article. 

3. Each party undertakes not to use deliberate concealment 

measures which impede verification by national technical 

means of compliance with the provisions of the Treaty. This 

obligation shall not require changes in current construction, 

assembly, conversion, or overhaul practices.16

Article XII is the only discussion of inspection or verification 

mechanisms in the ABMT and thereby establishes that NTM are the most 

important mechanism by which the superpowers can assure compliance with 

the provisions of the treaty. As such, it is the best illustration of the essential, 

enabling, and symbiotic relationship between NTM and arms control. This 

article also helped to close the loop on the superpower disagreements of the 

1950s and early 1960s over whether the concept of “peaceful uses” of outer 

space included the right to spy on one another from space. In this context, 

the exact wording of Article XII is important. Each party is to use NTM “in 

a manner consistent with generally recognized principles of international 

law” which thereby links NTM both to customary international law based on 

the prior practices of the superpowers and to the concept of peaceful uses of 

space that was introduced by the United States in the 1950s and somewhat 

more formalized in the OST. In sum, then, these provisions not only 

highlight the fundamental interrelationship between NTM and arms control 

but also help to legitimize NTM as a peaceful use of space under 

international law. 

Second, NTM and arms control are directly interrelated because of the 

close relationship between NTM capabilities and the units of limitation in the 

agreements. Put another way, these units of limitation could only be as precise 

as could be “seen” by NTM—especially prior to the OSI breakthrough in the 

INF Treaty. The operation of this relationship can be observed in practice by 

noting that underground nuclear testing was not limited in the LTBT due to 

difficulties in monitoring these types of tests but that the development of NTM 

such as the Vela Hotel satellite series allowed the prohibited area for nuclear 

testing to be expanded into space. Consider also the improvements in NTM 

capabilities implied by the differences in the units of limitation between SALT I 

and SALT II: In 1972, NTM was asked to count very large immobile objects 

such as missile silos and Large Phased-Array Radars; by 1979, NTM was 

expected to be able to distinguish between types of ICBMs and to count 
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numbers of warheads. The impact of this fundamental interrelationship 

between NTM capabilities and arms control units of limitation was a very 

important motivation in driving the U.S. aggressively to improve the 

capabilities of its spy satellites and to optimize these systems for arms control 

verification purposes throughout the remainder of the Cold War. 

The final issue-area associated with the relationships between NTM and 

arms control focuses on the types of protection for NTM that are afforded by 

these agreements. The language in Article XII of the ABMT and the 

subsequent practice of the signatories undoubtedly establish some degree of 

protection for spysats in customary international law. Under a positivist 

interpretation of this language, however, it is questionable just how much 

protection or legitimization it provides for NTM or satellites more generally. 

The language clearly stops well short of being a blanket anti-satellite (ASAT) 

weapons ban or even a clear approval of all spying from space. The 

prohibitions on interference with NTM and on the use of deliberate 

concealment measures seem to apply only when the NTM are being used to 

verify compliance with the treaty and are not comprehensive bans on these 

type of activities. Thus, the ABMT language draws a distinction between the 

use of NTM for compliance verification (which is supposed to be accepted) 

and the use of NTM for more general espionage (which may be acceptable as 

a peaceful use of space but is not necessarily legitimized by the ABMT). Of 

course, the difficulty in this regard comes in attempting to draw this fine 

distinction in practice. Two attributes of actual spysat operations highlight 

these difficulties: First, spysats do not perform only NTM verification 

missions (sometimes they are just spying); and, second, the generally 

recognized principles of international law cannot draw a distinction between 

NTM and other spysat missions because the details of spysat operations are 

still deep black regarding specific systems and their function. How are the 

parties to judge whether space-based NTM are engaged in legitimate treaty 

compliance verification or in general espionage and how much 

noninterference should they be given in either case? An ASAT attack on 

space-based NTM attempting to verify compliance with the treaty would 

surely constitute “interference” but how about lesser levels of nondestructive interference such as laser “dazzling”? What about interference 

that takes place in portions of the orbit that do not pass over the territory of 

the treaty signatories? Based on these questions and despite the NTM 

protection these provisions were often alleged to provide in the heyday of 

détente, the provisions in the ABMT should not be seen as constituting an 

ASAT prohibition or as granting a strong and specific level of legal 

protection for NTM at all times. Even more importantly, the amount of 

“protection” this language provides for all other civil, commercial, and 
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military space systems—including commercial remote sensing systems that 

might or might not be performing NTM missions—would seem to be even 

more tenuous. 

Comsat Regulatory Regime 

The regulatory regime for comsats is complex and evolving. The recent 

growth in the commercial space sector has largely been driven by the growth 

in space-enabled telecommunications services. Despite slowing recently, 

growth in the commercial space sector is still forecast to continue and 

accelerate. The comsat regulatory regime has been and will continue to be a 

critical factor in shaping the global comsat market but it is just one part of the 

broader global telecommunications regulatory regime. The global comsat 

market is also fundamentally shaped by technological considerations such as 

the competition between fiber optic cables and comsats. Over time, the 

primary debates over shaping telecommunication markets have moved from 

the North-North and East-West issues of the 1960s, to the North-South issues 

of the 1970s and 1980s, and have now returned to North-North economic 

competition issues. These trends carry increasing implications for national 

security as the military becomes more reliant on new commercial space 

services. In addition, the current pressures to reallocate for commercial use 

portions of the radio frequency spectrum that are now used by the military 

are likely to continue and increase. All of these factors illustrate why the 

comsat regulatory regime has become an increasingly important component 

within space-related arms control and regulatory mechanisms. 

The Communications Satellite Act of 1962. In contrast to the largely 

informal mechanisms that evolved to legitimize spysats, the United States 

was also the primary driver behind the creation of several important 

formalized arms control and regulatory regimes for space. In the first of 

these, the regulatory regime for communications satellites (comsats), 

Washington moved to structure the commercial environment of space and set 

several precedents for commercial space that are still in place today. The 

Communications Satellite Act of 1962 was the first step in creating this 

regime. The Act was a compromise that reflected a hard fought battle in the 

Senate over the issue of whether comsat ownership should be public or 

private. It created the Communications Satellite Corporation (COMSAT) as 

“a new animal in American political economy: a chartered company of the 

sort founded by European princes in the age of the mercantilist powerstate.”17 Ownership of COMSAT was initially equally shared between 

private stockholders and existing public common-carrier telecommunication 

corporations. In addition, NASA was to continue providing COMSAT the 
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fruits of its research and development efforts on comsats at no cost, to launch 

COMSAT satellites at cost, and the Federal Communications Commission 

(FCC) was to regulate COMSAT services by approving new services, rate 

structures, and stock offerings.18 Most importantly, however, the COMSAT 

regime was structured to advance U.S. foreign policy and national security 

goals. In July 1961, at the urging of his Science Advisor and the National 

Aeronautics and Space Council, President Kennedy issued a statement 

formally inviting “all nations to participate in a communications satellite 

system, in the interests of world peace and a close brotherhood among 

peoples throughout the world.”19 At the height of the Cold War competition 

for the allegiance of the third world, the Kennedy Administration clearly saw 

satellite communications as a potentially important way of helping states 

develop and cooperate. In its public diplomacy the administration 

emphasized these factors associated with comsats far more than their 

commercial implications. 

The 1964 INTELSAT Interim Agreement and 1971 Definitive 

Agreement. The Communications Satellite Act of 1962 was just the first 

step in creating a global comsat system. Section 102 of the Act envisioned 

three basic criteria for an international system: 1) a single global system open 

to participation by any state in the world; 2) a commercial enterprise; and 3) 

a system designed to provide service to both the developed and developing 

states of the world. Following the generous allocation of up to 15 percent of 

the radio spectrum for space services on both a permanent and shared basis at 

the 1963 Extraordinary Administrative Radio Conference of the International 

Telecommunications Union (ITU), delegates from 14 states were able to 

hammer out the August 1964 Interim Agreement that marks the unofficial 

birth of the International Telecommunications Satellite Consortium 

(INTELSAT).20 The largest controversies during the negotiations on the 

Interim Agreement were between the United States and European states 

eager to develop indigenous comsat capabilities and create economic 

structures in which they could flourish. In the end, the Europeans agreed to 

an initial structure for INTELSAT that was dominated by the United States 

and COMSAT as the price they had to pay to gain admittance to the global 

comsat market.21

Several factors altered the political context for the negotiations on the 

INTELSAT Definitive Agreement that began in February 1969. First, 

INTELSAT was growing rapidly. The number of member states had 

increased from 14 to 84 and most of the new states were third world nations 

that often had very different agendas for comsats than the developed states 

that had founded the organization. In addition, the United States was on the 

verge of its triumph in the moon race with the Soviet Union and felt less 
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threatened by Soviet commercial comsat competition. And, finally, 

INTELSAT had proved itself as an economically viable enterprise. 

Accordingly, the most significant controversies during the negotiations 

moved somewhat away from the North-North and East-West issues that had 

dominated the Interim Agreement negotiations and moved toward NorthSouth issues as well. The Definitive Agreement helped to assuage the 

concerns of developing states by creating new INTELSAT administrative 

structures that gave significant political power to each member state.22 

North-North economic competition, again primarily between the United 

States and Europe, remained a contentious issue. Ironically, in light of 

subsequent U.S. policy, the United States pushed most strongly during the 

negotiations to make INTELSAT a single universal system by arguing that 

excessive competition would make INTELSAT less economically viable. By 

contrast, the Europeans, in particular, did not want to be locked into 

INTELSAT as their only means of satellite telecommunications. A 

compromise was reached whereby the goal of a single system was urged in 

the Preamble and various other Articles in the Definitive Agreement but the 

agreement also contained procedures for creating separate systems.23 

Separate Systems and INTELSAT Privatization. Following the 

signing of the Definitive Agreement in August 1971, INTELSAT 

experienced a period or relative stability and prosperity for the remainder of 

the 1970s.24 By the early 1980s, however, significant controversies again 

swirled around the organization’s purpose and focus. President Ronald W. 

Reagan’s Administration was eager to reap the benefits that it believed would 

follow from breaking up government regulated domestic monopolies such as 

the American Telephone and Telegraph (AT&T) Corporation and also 

favored removing protections from international monopolies such as 

INTELSAT. The Consent Decree of August 1982 began the process of 

breaking up AT&T. On the international side, Presidential Determination 

85-2 of November 1984 found “that international satellite systems separate 

from INTELSAT are required in the national interest” but this finding was 

balanced by the 1985 separate system policy (SSP). The SPP prohibited 

INTELSAT competitors from accessing the public switched networks (i.e., 

the public telephone system) to serve U.S. customers.25 This was a 

formidable entry constraint because it protected INTELSAT from 

competition on services that accounted for almost three-quarters of its 

revenues.26

This opening for limited comsat competition began to erode 

INTELSAT’s dominance in the markets for every service it provides (voice, 

data, video, and audio). But it was the emergence of a very strong 

transoceanic fiber optic cable infrastructure that began in the late 1980s and 
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accelerated throughout the 1990s that ended INTELSAT’s once dominant 

position.27 By the late 1990s, through the Open-market Reorganization for 

the Betterment of International Telecommunications (ORBIT) Act, Congress 

moved U.S. comsat policy full circle by amending the Communications 

Satellite Act of 1962 and adding new provisions that created incentives for 

competition and privatization. More specifically, the ORBIT Act called for 

INTELSAT to be privatized in a pro-competitive manner no later than 1 

April 2001 and prohibits the FCC from issuing or renewing licenses to 

INTELSAT or its privatized successor organization unless they will not harm 

competition in the U.S. telecommunication market.28 The privatization of 

INTELSAT on 18 July 2001 marks the final major development in this area 

to date and is another indication of just how completely the regulatory 

regime for comsats has been reordered from its original design in the early 

1960s.29

The Role of Comsat Regulatory Organizations: the ITU, FCC and 

NTIA. The ITU operates under a “federal” permanent structure but its most 

important decisions for regulating the radio spectrum are negotiated at the 

World Radiocommunication Conferences (WRCs) now held every two to 

three years.30 Along with INTELSAT, the ITU has played and will continue 

to play a primary role in structuring the place of comsats in the world 

telecommunications regime. Unlike INTELSAT, however, it is not likely 

this specialized UN agency will be a candidate for privatization, primarily 

because it serves in a more purely regulatory fashion, licenses a limited 

resource, and provides a global public good by reducing harmful interference 

between transmissions throughout the radio spectrum. This is not to say that 

the ITU is unimportant or has escaped controversy over how this limited 

resource should be managed. Obtaining a license for the radio frequencies 

required to operate a comsat can be among the most difficult and timeconsuming parts of bringing a system into operation. Similar to the case of 

INTELSAT, the primary axes of controversy over ITU regulation of the 

limited radio spectrum have shifted from North-North and East-West issues 

in the 1960s to North-South issues during the 1970s and 1980s and recently 

have returned primarily to North-North issues of economic competitiveness. 

The WRCs held in 1985 and 1988 developed an Allotment Plan and 

Improved and Simplified Procedures for the ITU satellite 

coordination/registration process that were particularly important in helping 

to resolve North-South conflict caused by increasing use of GSO and the 

fears of the developing world that they would not have access to this limited 

resource.31 Conflicts during the past several WRCs have increasingly 

centered on controversies associated with the perceived need for new and 

expanded spectrum for commercial applications, disagreements over 
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communications protocols and standards, and the targeting of different 

current services as potential sources of additional commercial spectrum. At 

the 2000 WRC, for example, some of the most significant disagreements 

surfaced over attempting to find spectrum to support the proposed European 

Galileo positioning system, deconflicting GSO and non-geostationary 

(NGSO) satellite spectrum, and the standards for and spectrum requests for 

International Mobile Telecommunications (IMT-2000) or so-called third 

generation (3G) mobile wireless systems. 

The FCC and the Department of Commerce’s National 

Telecommunications and Information Agency (NTIA) are the final major 

players in the comsat regulatory regime.32 The FCC has jurisdiction over the 

entire frequency spectrum except for the portion used by the federal 

government that is managed by the NTIA. These organizations are the 

United States’ domestic regulatory counterparts to the ITU and they work in 

conjunction with the Department of State to regulate and represent the 

commercial and diplomatic interests of the United States and its comsat 

industry. The FCC is an independent United States government agency that 

was established by the Communications Act of 1934 and is charged with 

regulating interstate and international communications by radio, television, 

wire, satellite and cable. It is directed by five Commissioners appointed by 

the President and confirmed by the Senate for 5-year terms and is organized 

around seven operating Bureaus and ten Staff Offices.33 NTIA is the 

president’s principle advisor on telecommunications and information policy 

issues. It was created in 1978 by merging the White House Office of 

Telecommunication Policy with the Commerce Department’s Office of 

Telecommunications.34 

One of the greatest distinctions between the approach of the FCC and the 

ITU in granting spectrum allocations is that since 1994, the FCC has used 

auctions to award licenses to the highest bidders. The FCC’s authority to 

conduct auctions was first provided under the Omnibus Budget 

Reconciliation Act of 1993; prior to this it had used comparative hearings 

and lotteries to award licenses to applicants.35 As of June 2001, the FCC had 

conducted 34 auctions that yielded over $41.6 billion in net high bids.36 

Most analysts believe that the FCC’s use of auctions to allocate scarce radio 

frequency resources has been a success story. In addition to creating an 

economically rational system for allocating spectrum and generating income 

for the government, it has reduced the time for processing a license from up 

to four years to less than six months.37 As of this writing, the FCC has not 

auctioned off spectrum allocations for what it considers to be “international 

satellites” that are designed to provide fixed satellite services (FSS) or 

mobile satellite services (MSS)—even if these services are focused primarily 
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on the United States.38 But the FCC has held auctions on the spectrum for 

other satellite services such as direct broadcast satellite (DBS) and digital 

audio radio service (DARS).39 This seeming inconsistency again illustrates 

that both domestic and international regulation generally is organized around 

the services provided and the frequency spectrum used rather than the 

location of the hardware in space or elsewhere. Finally, the growing use of 

auctions to allocate comsat spectrum by the FCC and other state’s domestic 

regulators may put increasing pressure on the ITU to consider the use of 

auctions to allocate comsat spectrum internationally.40

Conflict Over Military Spectrum. Growing commercial use of the 

radio spectrum, particularly plans to implement International Mobile 

Telecommunications-2000 (also known as third generation mobile wireless 

services or 3G), has created increasing pressure to open up portions of the 

spectrum identified for these applications.41 In the United States, the 

Department of Defense (DOD) is the current primary user of this spectrum 

and employs it to control some 120 satellites including the Defense Support 

Program (DSP) infrared early warning satellites and the GPS, among others. 

In October 2000, President William J. Clinton directed the FCC and NTIA to 

study the feasibility of making parts of the bandwidth identified at WRC1992 and WRC-2000 available for commercial use. The original plan called 

for the NTIA to identify by July 2001 the specific portions of the spectrum to 

be used and for the FCC to auction this spectrum in September 2002. DOD’s 

Office of Spectrum Management within the Defense Information Systems 

Agency provided a report on the 1755 to 1850 MHz band to NTIA in 

February and NTIA issued its final report in March 2001. The NTIA report 

concluded that unrestricted sharing of the 1755 to 1850 MHz 

band is not feasible and any other sharing option would 

require considerable coordination. Further, the report notes 

that issues involving the availability of comparable 

spectrum, reimbursement, and the time required for federal 

entities to either modify or replace equipment would need to 

be addressed before a decision could be made whether 

federal users could share or vacate a band of spectrum.42

The General Accounting Office (GAO) completed a report on this issue 

in August 2001 that found it would be premature to make spectrum 

allocation decisions at that time, largely because DOD and the commercial 

sector used different models to estimate harmful interference and because 

DOD should conduct additional analysis on the programmatic, budgeting, 
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and scheduling implications of commercial use of this spectrum.43 In 

addition, the GAO report recommended that the Secretary of Defense 

• complete a system-by-system analysis to determine 

existing and future spectrum needs and requirements of 

systems in the 1755 to 1850 MHz band; 

• prepare a long-range spectrum plan and make 

programmatic decisions necessary to carry out that plan; and 

• complete the technical, operational, and cost assessments 

of satellite systems in the 1755 to 1850 MHz band and 

review and complete assessments of other systems as 

necessary. 

To provide DOD with adequate time and guidance to 

complete its plans and analysis, we recommend that the 

Secretary of Commerce 

• incorporate a sufficient amount of time into the new NTIA 

plan to select spectrum for third generation mobile wireless 

systems to address the issues discussed in this report, 

specifically with respect to satellite operations; 

• direct NTIA, in conjunction with FCC, to identify 

comparable alternative spectrum for use by the DOD 

systems before a decision is made to reallocate the 1755 to 

1850 MHz band, should such an action be contemplated; and 

• coordinate with appropriate executive branch agencies to 

review existing national spectrum management plans and 

policies, and, if necessary, to establish a clearly defined 

national spectrum strategy reflecting DOD requirements for 

international agreements and spectrum requirements to 

operate overseas.44

On 5 October 2001, the NTIA removed all but 15 MHz of the 1755-1850 

MHz band from consideration for commercial applications pending further 

study and future petitions from 3G wireless license applications.45 More 

generally, however, this specific case illustrates how complex and difficult it 

has become to find new or reassigned spectrum allocations for emerging 

commercial applications such as 3G. For the foreseeable future, pressures to 

reallocate bandwidth presently used by the DOD are likely to continue or 

even increase.46

The Outer Space Treaty Regime 
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The OST is the most important space-related arms control agreement to 

date; it has been described as the Magna Carta for space. The terms of this 

agreement and the regime it represents affect potential military operations in 

space in important, fundamental ways and prohibit significant military options. 

For example, the OST bans extreme military space plans such as using the 

Moon as the ultimate nuclear doomsday base.47 This section emphasizes the 

military's role in the bureaucratic processes that led to the OST and examines 

the enduring impact of the treaty. It focuses, in particular, on points of 

controversy concerning the treaty’s interpretation and verification. 

The NASM 156 Committee. The superpowers had advanced several 

different space arms control initiatives beginning prior to the opening of the 

space age. Most of these earliest initiatives seemed to be designed more for 

political posturing than as serious negotiating positions. The Kennedy 

Administration took what has come to be known as a “two-track” approach to 

ASAT development and space arms control efforts—deploying a minimum 

number of ASATs to mitigate against a Soviet orbital nuclear weapon threat 

while simultaneously pursuing arms control efforts to ban such weapons in 

space and thereby removing a major incentive for deploying ASATs.48 Early in 

the Kennedy Administration, however, efforts to achieve space arms control 

were severely hampered by a lack of interagency coordination on space policy. 

Accordingly, on 26 May 1962, Kennedy issued National Security Action 

Memorandum (NSAM) 156. This document found that that different 

organizations and differing parts of U.S. space policy had too often been 

moving in opposite directions and directed the Department of State to create a 

high-level coordinating body for U.S. space policy to address this problem.49

The interagency group created as the result of this directive was known as 

the NSAM 156 Committee. The primary responsibility of this group was to 

develop policies designed to protect and legitimize U.S. spysats, but they were 

also chiefly responsible for creating the U.S. initiatives aimed at banning 

nuclear weapons from outer space. During the Summer and Fall of 1962 the 

NSAM 156 Committee was the scene of intense interagency disputes on the 

desirability of attempting to ban nuclear weapons from space and over the most 

appropriate political mechanism by which the U.S. might attempt to achieve 

this goal. The State Department and the Arms Control and Disarmament 

Agency (ACDA) were the most supportive of a ban. The Joint Chiefs of Staff 

(JCS) most strongly opposed such a ban because it precluded military options in 

space and, further, the JCS objected to the political mechanism of a U.S. 

unilateral declaratory statement of its intent not to station nuclear weapons in 

space.50 The debates within the NASM 156 Committee and the National 

Security Council (NSC) gradually moved toward the position of State and 
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ACDA and was issued as NSAM 183 and NSAM 192 on 27 August and 2 

October, respectively.51

UNGA Resolutions 1721, 1884, and 1962. A public diplomacy 

competition between the United and the Soviet Union to out-cooperate each 

other in the General Assembly and the COPUOS led to the adoption of United 

Nations General Assembly (UNGA) Resolution 1721 on 20 December 1961. 

UNGA 1721 was the first significant piece of space arms control and 

established several foundational principles. It extended international law to 

outer space and celestial bodies, established that the exploration and use of 

space was to be free and open to all states, called for registration of all space 

launches, and sought cooperative agreements on international communication 

and meteorological space systems.52

NSAM 192 set in motion the informal and formal initiatives that eventually 

led to the international declaratory ban on placing nuclear weapons or weapons 

of mass destruction in outer space expressed in UNGA Resolution 1884 

(XVIII) on 17 October 1963.53 It should be emphasized that “NSAM 192 

represented, possibly for the first time, the willingness of the US government to 

conclude an arms control agreement with the Soviet Union that did not make 

inspection or verification a necessary prerequisite.”54 This willingness to obtain 

an unsecured agreement with the Soviets on banning nuclear weapons from 

space over the objections of the JCS was an illustration of the administration's 

general de-emphasis on military space programs in favor of peaceful and civil 

uses of space. It was also an expression of the administration's judgements that 

nuclear weapons in space: lacked military utility, were not required by U.S. 

military space doctrine, and were better dealt with through this declaratory ban 

than via ASAT weapons. 

UNGA Resolution 1884 (XVIII) of 17 October 1963 was an international 

declaratory ban on placing nuclear weapons or weapons of mass destruction in 

outer space. UNGA Resolution 1962 (XVIII) of 13 December 1963 “signaled a 

breakthrough in the evolution of space law.”55 Specifically, UNGA Resolution 

1962 declared: 

outer space free for exploration by all and out of bounds to 

national sovereignty; space activities to be carried on for the 

benefit and in the interest of all mankind in accordance with 

the UN Charter and international law; states to bear 

responsibility for all their national space activities, whether 

carried on by government or nongovernmental agencies; states 

to be guided by principles of cooperation and mutual 

assistance, with “appropriate international consultations” to 

precede any activity potentially harmful to peaceful uses of 
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space; spacecraft to remain under the jurisdiction of the 

launching state, with the latter accepting liability for any 

damage caused to foreign property by accidents; astronauts to 

be regarded as “envoys of mankind” and rendered every 

assistance in case of peril.56

Thus, UNGA Resolution 1962 was clearly a very significant and wide-ranging 

statement that dealt with civil, commercial, and national security aspects of 

space. 

OST Negotiations. During the Johnson Administration, the State 

Department and the NSAM 156 Committee continued their efforts to achieve 

even more significant space-related arms control agreements. The State 

Department held that the U.S. should negotiate an international space treaty 

based on the precedent of the 1959 Antarctic Treaty in order to codify the 

principles in UNGA Resolutions 1884 and 1962 more formally. DOD and JCS 

generally opposed this initiative and specifically opposed further restrictions on 

national sovereignty in space or on celestial bodies and rejected positions that 

would require the U.S. to release more data on its space vehicles.57 Moreover, 

the JCS counseled caution in negotiating a space treaty due to the psychological 

impact such an agreement might have on general U.S. military exploitation of 

space and especially urged “the provisions of the treaty should not preclude the 

conduct of intelligence activities deemed essential to U.S. security.”58 

However, by 11 March 1966, State had watered down its original position on 

several of these issues enough to win DOD acceptance of a preliminary draft 

treaty.59 On 5 April, National Security Advisor Walt W. Rostow wrote a 

memorandum to the president which recommended that the U.S. rapidly 

propose a “Celestial Body Treaty” in order to score international public 

relations points by advancing this proposal before the Soviets tabled their own 

draft treaty on this issue.60 Accordingly, President Johnson publicly outlined 

the basic provisions of the U.S. draft treaty on 7 May. 

On 16 June, both the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. submitted draft treaties on 

regulating activities in outer space to the UN. The original Soviet proposal was 

much more comprehensive than the American proposal; negotiations between 

July and December resolved the differences between the two proposals and 

resulted in treaty language acceptable to the UN.61 The UNGA endorsed the 

agreement on 17 December and by 27 January 1967 the Treaty on Principles 

Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, 

Including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies was open for signature. Sixtytwo states initially signed the OST and the agreement went to the U.S. Senate 

for advice and consent to ratification on 7 February. 

OST Interpretation and Ratification. Many provisions of the OST echo 

UNGA Resolution 1884 and especially UNGA Resolution 1962. The treaty 
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purports to “contribute to broad international co-operation in the scientific as 

well as the legal aspects of the exploration and use of outer space for peaceful 

purposes.”62 To these ends, provisions in the OST: reaffirm the principle of 

freedom of use of outer space, make activities in space subject to international 

law including the UN Charter, and stipulate that the use and exploration of 

space “shall be carried out for the benefit and in the interest of all countries” 

while outer space itself shall be the “province of all mankind.”63 This vision for 

cooperative, noncommercial exploration and use of space was rooted in the 

Antarctic Treaty of 1959 and culminated in the 1979 Moon Treaty’s emphasis 

that space is the common heritage of mankind. In addition, the OST laid a 

specific foundation for every subsequent international space agreement: the 

1968 Rescue and Return Agreement, the 1972 Liability Convention, and the 

1975 Registration Convention.64

Most importantly for our arms control focus, several sections of the treaty 

have direct military relevance. Article II indicates “[o]uter space, including the 

moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by 

claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.”65 

The most specific military prohibitions are found in Article IV: 

States Parties to the Treaty undertake not to place in orbit 

around the Earth any objects carrying nuclear weapons or any 

other kinds of weapons of mass destruction, install such 

weapons on celestial bodies, or station such weapons in outer 

space in any other manner. 

The moon and other celestial bodies shall be used by all 

States Parties to the Treaty exclusively for peaceful purposes. 

The establishment of military bases, installations and 

fortifications, the testing of any type of weapons and the 

conduct of military maneuvers on celestial bodies shall be 

forbidden. The use of military personnel for scientific research 

or for any other peaceful purpose shall not be prohibited. The 

use of any equipment or facility necessary for peaceful 

exploration of the moon and other celestial bodies shall also 

not be prohibited.66

Cumulatively, these provisions seem to preclude significant military 

operations on the moon or other celestial bodies and to restrict military space 

options in earth orbit and elsewhere. 

The most detailed public discussions of the terms of the OST and its 

military impact took place during the Senate hearings on advice and consent to 

ratification during March and April 1967. Although the U.S. had already 

accepted nearly all of the provisions of the OST either through unilateral policy 
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statements or support of UNGA resolutions 1884 and 1962, the Senate 

nonetheless closely questioned the administration witnesses and carefully 

considered the political and national security impact of a treaty formalizing 

these positions. As a result of this close questioning, a more complete picture of 

the United States’ understanding of several key provisions of the OST and of 

general U.S. space policy emerged. In the end, the testimony of the 

administration witnesses as well as the terms and purpose of the OST proved 

unanimously acceptable to the Senate as reflected in the 88-0 vote in support of 

ratification on 25 April. 

Several space arms control issues were clarified during the hearings. Many 

senators were concerned with how the U.S. would verify the OST prohibition of 

nuclear weapons and weapons of mass destruction from space. In response to 

questioning on this issue, administration witnesses highlighted several 

important U.S. positions: First, while the U.S. could not presently or in the near 

term future determine with high confidence the purpose or content of any 

individual space object, U.S. NTM were asserted to have the ability to detect 

larger-scale deployments of nuclear weapons or weapons of mass destruction in 

space before they became “militarily significant.”67 Second, this U.S. difficulty 

in identifying the purpose and function of space objects would exist whether or 

not the U.S. ratified the OST.68 Third, as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff 

(CJCS) General Earle G. Wheeler reemphasized several times during his 

testimony, despite these potential verification difficulties, the United States 

would prefer to rely upon its own NTM to address the verification issue rather 

than attempting to create an international on-site inspection regime for objects 

in space.69 And, fourth, Secretary of State Dean Rusk asserted that while the 

U.S. was confident in its ability to adequately verify the OST prohibition on 

nuclear weapons and weapons of mass destruction, that “[t]he treaty does not 

inhibit, of course, the development of an antisatellite capability in the event that 

should become necessary.”70

Other testimony on the OST helped somewhat to clarify what was meant by 

the term “weapons of mass destruction.” Deputy Secretary Vance indicated 

that this term “would include such other weapons systems as chemical and 

biological weapons . . .” or future systems “which would have the capability of 

mass destruction such as that which would be wreaked by nuclear weapons.”71 

Finally, these hearings also gave CJCS Wheeler the opportunity to emphasize 

that the Chiefs were concerned with aspects of inspection and verification in the 

OST and were worried that the psychological impact of the OST might cause a 

diminution of U.S. military space efforts. The JCS therefore specifically called 

for “intensified U.S. efforts to develop capabilities to detect and verify the 

orbiting of nuclear weapons or those threatening mass destruction” as well as a 

general “increase in our military efforts in space not prohibited by the treaty.”72
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Legacy of the OST. The OST certainly marks an important constraint on 

military space plans and programs. By banning nuclear weapons and weapons 

of mass destruction from space and prohibiting military installations on the 

Moon and other celestial bodies, the terms of the OST essentially foreclose the 

possibility that space could openly serve as the high ground for deterrence or 

actual warfare at the strategic level. After the ratification of the OST, the U.S. 

military had very little incentive to consider space plans or doctrines based upon 

the “high ground” school of thought.73 The possibility of space for non-nuclear 

strategic defense remained open but most uses of space for strategic deterrence 

or strategic offense appeared to be closed. 

The more subtle influences and implications of the OST are perhaps just as 

significant. As discussed above, the UN declaratory ban on nuclear weapons in 

space of October 1963 was the first instance where the U.S. was willing to 

declare such an unenforceable and non-verifiable ban. This, coupled with the 

lack of enforcement and verification mechanisms in the OST, signaled that the 

U.S. was not overly concerned with the security implications of nuclear 

weapons in space. And if the U.S. was not overly concerned with the 

verification mechanisms for guarding against even potential nuclear weapons in 

space, how important could other types of weapons or systems in space be? 

The very limited verification provisions in the OST and the divergence between 

inspection procedures for space versus the moon or other celestial bodies also 

seem to point again to the overriding importance of U.S. spy satellites in 

shaping all other space applications and policies. Additionally, many 

commentators have stated that the OST should be seen primarily as an 

international public relations effort because it basically only codified the space 

developments to date and only banned those military options in which the 

superpowers had little interest. However, this interpretation does not 

sufficiently underscore the significant restraining effect of the OST on the U.S. 

military’s plans and programs for space. Cumulatively, then, the OST was a 

clear message that the U.S. civilian leadership did not believe that space held a 

great deal of military utility, except as a sanctuary for spysats, and that space 

doctrines and systems which did not match with this approach would not be 

treated seriously. 

Later in 1967, Secretary McNamara revealed that the Soviets had been 

testing a new type of ballistic missile delivery system known as a fractional 

orbital bombardment system (FOBS). During 1965 and 1966 the Soviets had 

conducted a series of tests in which an SS-9 intercontinental ballistic missile 

(ICBM) launched a payload into an orbital trajectory that was then de-orbited 

before the completion of one orbit. The apparent purpose of this system was to 

allow ballistic missile attacks on the U.S. from the south rather than via the 

normal ballistic trajectory over the north polar regions. Such a system would 
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afford the Soviets greater flexibility in attack planning and allow an approach 

towards the U.S. from the direction with the least strategic surveillance. 

Following McNamara’s 3 November 1967 public announcement that the 

Soviets had developed a FOBS, he attempted to downplay its significance by 

stating that this system did not pose a major new strategic threat to the U.S. or 

violate the OST since the payloads were not in sustained orbit.74 Secretary 

McNamara did not publicly reveal that the JCS and the Air Force, in particular, 

regarded the FOBS as a considerable security concern as a possible first-strike 

weapon that would be able to avoid much of the U.S. early warning system by 

attacking from the south.75 Overall, the announcement of this new type of 

system did arouse considerable concern within the U.S. and illustrated that the 

OST would not be the last word on the security implications of space. 

The ABMT Regime and Space-Based Defenses 

The SALT I agreements consisting of the Treaty on the Limitation of AntiBallistic Missile Systems (ABMT) and the Interim Agreement on the 

Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms (IA) represent one of the most 

important milestones in arms control during the Cold War. They were the first 

major and comprehensive strategic arms control agreements ever reached 

between the superpowers. These agreements attempted to codify and take 

advantage of mutual assured destruction (MAD) as the basis for strategic 

stability between the superpowers. The signing of these agreements on 26 May 

1972 also officially signaled the arrival of the era of détente between the 

superpowers.76 As discussed above, spysats played a central role in enabling 

the ABMT, served as the primary means of verification for the treaty, and the 

treaty helped to legitimize NTM under international law. For our purposes in 

this section, the four most important aspects of this regime are: 1. the roots of 

BMD systems prior to the ABMT; 2. subsequent technological and political 

developments such as the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI); 3. the unclear 

prohibitions on space-based ABM systems found in the ABMT and discussed 

in subsequent negotiations; and 4. space and missile defense in the 1990s and 

beyond. 

BMD Plans and Developments Prior to the ABMT. The roots of U.S. 

BMD efforts go back to before the opening of the space age. On 16 January 

1958, Secretary Neil H. McElroy had assigned the Army primary 

responsibility for developing an ABM system over Air Force objections but 

the Army’s primary program in this area, known as Nike-X, made only 

halting progress in the early 1960s.77 The growing opposition of Secretary 

McNamara to large-scale ABM deployments became clearer as he refined 
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the concepts behind MAD; McNamara’s opposition was a key factor in 

slowing movement towards ABM deployments. 

During the 1967-1969 period, the Army and the Johnson and Nixon 

Administrations grappled with great controversy as they moved to deploy 

America’s first ABM system. The Army’s Nike-X system, now renamed 

Sentinel, was first approved as a “thin” defense of cities—primarily against 

the emerging threat of People’s Republic of China (PRC) missile 

deployments. The incoming Nixon Administration reoriented the Sentinel 

system towards defending ICBMs and renamed the program Safeguard. The 

Safeguard system survived a series of very close votes in Congress and was 

fundamentally shaped by the ongoing SALT I negotiations; it emerged as a 

one-site system designed to defend the Minuteman ICBM fields at Grand 

Forks AFB in North Dakota. The Safeguard system became operational on 1 

October 1975. However, by 18 November, both the House and the Senate 

had voted to scrap this system and deactivation began in February 1976.78 

The torturous path towards Safeguard deployment and its rapid demise as 

well as its primary mission of defending Air Force ICBMs clearly soured the 

Army on the whole concept of strategic defense. Likewise, the Air Force had 

very little incentive at this time to follow the Army down this rocky road and, 

moreover, retained the strong institutional bias towards offensive forces that 

had justified its development as a separate Service. 

Space-Based BMD Plans and Developments after the ABMT. While 

the U.S. military had almost no interest in exploring new BMD systems 

following the demise of the Safeguard system, several new potential BMD 

technologies, such as space-based laser systems, began to excite renewed 

interest in BMD within groups outside the military by the late 1970s. The 

four key figures in helping to generate increased U.S. interest in exploring 

the potential of space-based laser BMD systems in the late 1970s included: 

Lockheed aerospace engineer Maxwell W. Hunter II, Senator Malcolm 

Wallop (R.-WY), Dr. Angelo M. Codevilla of Wallop's staff, and Aviation 

Week & Space Technology Senior Editor Clarence J. Robinson, Jr.79 On 31 

October 1977, Hunter completed an important study for Lockheed entitled 

“Strategic Dynamics and Space-Laser Weaponry.”80 At Wallop’s urging, 

Hunter put together a team of leading experts on the technologies involved in 

a space-based laser system and this team presented a series of briefings 

during the Fall of 1979 to Senators, staffers, and DARPA officials.81 While 

these briefings were generally well received by those in attendance, other 

DOD and Air Force officials were reportedly “so rankled” that they 

pressured “those companies funded under laser contracts to keep members of 

the briefing team out of Washington.”82
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One of the most specific achievements resulting from the strong 

advocacy of these individuals and Hunter’s briefings was the addition of $30 

million to the fiscal year (FY) 1982 Air Force budget for the development of 

space-based lasers. Wallop also recognized and attempted to deal with the 

conceptual opposition and bureaucratic inertia of the Services on this issue. 

Specifically, his bill required the Air Force to establish a program office for 

airborne and spaceborne lasers and work towards an early demonstration of 

high-energy lasers in earth orbit. If the Air Force did not vigorously pursue 

this laser research, Wallop threatened to have the program shifted to Army 

control. There was also some support for establishing a new military Service 

to take responsibility for space operations, since none of the established 

Services was showing adequate interest. One reason no Service wished to 

become the patron of space weaponry was the fear that these expensive 

systems would consume resources that could be used for purposes the 

Services considered more important.83 Overall, this first group was quite 

successful in bringing the substantial BMD potential of space-based lasers to 

the attention of many key defense decision-makers in Washington and in 

reenergizing the concept of strategic defense more generally. Thanks to the 

efforts of this group, many at least began to consider the revolutionary 

potential of space-based weaponry such as high-energy lasers.84 

With the advent of the Reagan Administration, a new group of civilians 

became most directly responsible for strongly advocating the continuing 

exploration of America’s strategic defense options. Initially spearheading 

these efforts was the High Frontier Organization headed by Lieutenant 

General Daniel Graham, U.S. Army (Retired), and the High Frontier Panel 

chaired by Karl Bendetsen, a former Under Secretary of the Army.85 

Beginning in late 1982, two other key actors came to strongly support a 

strategic defense initiative and these individuals, along with the president, 

shaped the developments that culminated in Reagan’s 23 March 1983 “star 

wars” speech.86 The key actors at this time were National Security Advisor 

Robert “Bud” McFarlane and Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) Admiral 

James Watkins.87 By the end of 1982, the administration's plans to deploy 

the MX “Peacekeeper” ICBM were in disarray due to public and 

congressional opposition to various basing modes. Moreover, McFarlane 

was convinced that the nuclear freeze movement was gaining momentum and 

might block all other U.S. strategic modernization efforts as well. Against 

this backdrop, McFarlane was strongly drawn towards strategic defenses as 

“a way to outflank the freeze movement[.]”, exploit U.S. technological 

prowess, and expand U.S. strategic options.88 From an organizational focus, 

it is most interesting that virtually the only major early conceptual support 

for SDI from the military was developed by the Navy, the Service with the 
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least experience in and the least vested interest in deployments of BMD 

systems. 

Thus, in early 1983 everything finally came together to produce a policy 

decision in favor of investigating strategic defenses. During January 1983, 

Watkins and his staff worked hard to convince the other Chiefs of the 

importance of moving out of their strategic valley of death by investigating 

the potential of new technologies for strategic defense. At a 5 February 

executive session of the JCS, Watkins was able to get JCS concurrence on 

this recommendation for the president and was undoubtedly aided by 

McFarlane’s admonition that if the Chiefs were “all over the lot on this issue, 

there’s not a chance in the world he [Reagan] would support a missile 

defense program.”89 A critical meeting took place at the White House on 11 

February involving the JCS, Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger, 

National Security Advisor McFarlane, and the president. At this meeting, the 

president responded favorably to the unanimous support of the JCS for 

investigating new strategic defense possibilities. Immediately after the 

formal meeting, McFarlane requested that each of the Chiefs submit a 

thorough report on this issue to him and charged his staff with the same 

responsibility. Reagan’s personal interest in this issue was evident when he 

pushed McFarlane to produce a public announcement of this policy before 

the completion of these reports and when he participated extensively in the 

drafting of the 23 March speech. 

Reagan’s SDI speech did change the terms of the strategic debate within 

the U.S. and worldwide by reintroducing a fundamental strategic concept 

while simultaneously outflanking the nuclear freeze movement. Moreover, 

because Reagan’s initiative shocked those who believed that MAD should 

continue to form the basis for stable deterrence, the administration had a 

short reprieve of several months before widespread and committed 

opposition to the SDI became organized and publicized. During this time, 

the administration completed three critical studies on the SDI and set the 

bureaucratic structure for the SDIO into motion. On 25 March 1983, Reagan 

signed National Security Decision Directive (NSDD)-85, “Eliminating the 

Treat from Ballistic Missiles,” which formally directed the start of the 

initiative he had publicly announced two days earlier. Soon thereafter, 

National Security Study Directive (NSSD) 6-83 ordered two major studies on 

the SDI concept be completed within the administration by October. The 

largest of these studies examined in detail the current and likely technologies 

available for BMD. Formally titled the “Defensive Technologies Study,” 

this effort is better known as the Fletcher study after its chairman, former 

(and future) NASA Administrator James C. Fletcher. The other major study 

was titled the “Future Security Strategy Study” and focused on the political 
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and strategic implications of the SDI. Two groups undertook this study, an 

interagency team led by Franklin Miller and a team of outside experts 

chaired by Dr. Fred Hoffman. Generally speaking, all of these reports 

strongly supported starting the type of long-term research and development 

(R & D) program on strategic defenses called for by the president.90 On 6 

January 1984, NSDD-119, “Strategic Defense Initiative,” officially accepted 

the recommendations of these studies and formally started the SDI. 

Accordingly, in January a new office, SDIO, was established within DOD. 

The Fletcher study “was used as a general guide for initiating the program.”91 

SDIO was made directly responsible to the Secretary of Defense and placed 

outside of the normal Service and other bureaucratic structures of DOD. On 

15 April, Lieutenant General James A. Abrahamson moved from his position 

as Associate Administrator for Manned Spaceflight at NASA to become the 

first director of SDIO. The SDIO first demonstrated the potential of new 

BMD technologies on 10 June when a kinetic energy weapon (KEW) known 

as the Homing Overlay Experiment (HOE) launched from Meck Island in the 

Pacific Test Range successfully intercepted a test reentry vehicle (RV) 

launched atop a Minuteman ICBM from Vandenberg AFB.92 

Beginning in 1985 and continuing throughout the remainder of this 

period, SDI faced well-organized and increasing political opposition in 

Congress and elsewhere. This increasing political opposition deflected 

SDIO’s attentions away from broad long-term strategic planning and onto 

narrow short-term budgetary and political issues. The protracted debate over 

SDI’s place in the broad versus narrow ABMT interpretation dispute 

discussed below is an example of one major factor that drained SDIO’s 

attention away from strategic defense developments per se. Thus, there was 

little focus at SDIO on developing long-range doctrine for space weaponry. 

Moreover, SDIO’s research only focus and BMD charter also generally 

tended to serve as an intellectual blinder to thinking about the other very 

significant military applications of space weaponry. Additionally, there is 

little open evidence that the Air Force or DOD picked up this slack and 

carefully considered the military potential of the technologies being explored 

under the SDI for applications other than BMD. Given all of these 

difficulties, it is not surprising that even the Commander-in-Chief’s strong 

support for SDI was not powerful enough to overturn the deeply ingrained 

psychological and doctrinal preferences for massive retaliation or MAD 

within much of the U.S. military hierarchy.93 

Reevaluations of the political role of strategic defense, the sustained 

political opposition to SDI, and the changing political environment on the 

way to the end of the Cold War combined to result in significant refocusing 

of the program away from the very robust “astrodome” type population 
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defense implied by Reagan’s original vision. In an address on 20 February 

1985, Ambassador Paul Nitze officially codified two criteria by which SDI 

developments would be judged: first, that any defense systems be highly 

survivable, and second, that defense systems “be cost effective at the 

margin—that is, they must be cheap enough to add additional defensive 

capability so that the other side has no incentive to add additional offensive 

capability to overcome the defense.”94 A series of SDIO experiments 

conducted on 5 September 1986 known as the Delta 180 test confirmed the 

ability of space-based infrared sensors and KEW to perform simulated boostphase intercepts.95 During 1987, the JCS “formally provided operational 

requirements for a Phase I Strategic Defense System” by establishing a 

classified “minimum performance level which must be achieved” in a Phase I 

strategic defense deployment.96 This was followed by Secretary 

Weinberger’s announcement on 18 September that the Defense Acquisition 

Board had approved the entry of six elements of the Phase I SDI program 

into the demonstration and validation phase of the defense acquisition 

process.97 Lieutenant General Abrahamson resigned his post at the end of 

January 1989 without making full general.98 In a final major development at 

the end of the Cold War, Dr. Lowell Wood of the Lawrence Livermore 

National Laboratory, proposed an enhanced and proliferated space-based 

interceptor system known as Brilliant Pebbles.99

Restrictions on Space-Based BMD in the ABMT and Subsequent 

Developments. The third major space arms control issue raised by the ABMT 

involves the unclear prohibitions on space-based ABM systems found in the 

treaty and how they have been interpreted over time. During the heyday of 

détente, most of the terms of the ABMT were seen as clear and unambiguous. 

In this context, the specific prohibition on space-based ABM systems found in 

Article V seem straightforward: “Each Party undertakes not to develop, test, or 

deploy ABM systems or components which are sea-based, air-based, spacebased, or mobile land-based.”100 Over time and under different interpretations, 

however, the ABMT’s prohibitions on certain types of ABM systems have 

become far cloudier. Moreover, beginning in the Reagan Administration and 

continuing to the present, the fundamental provisions of the ABMT and the 

treaty’s strategic utility have become mired in controversy. This section briefly 

examines the most controversial portions of the ABMT as well as subsequent 

space-based BMD developments. Debates over the strategic utility and proper 

interpretation of the ABMT are usually the outward manifestation of more 

fundamental, underlying issues such as divergent views on the strategic value of 

MAD, space-based BMD, and the general military utility of space.101

Particularly during the 1980s, controversy swirled around the issue of 

whether or not the ABMT prohibits the development, testing, or deployment of 
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space-based ABM systems based upon so-called “exotic” technologies. The 

parts of the ABMT most relevant to this debate are Articles II and V and 

Agreed Statement D. Article II defines ABM systems as follows: 

1. For the purposes of this Treaty an ABM system is a 

system to counter strategic ballistic missiles or their 

elements in flight trajectory, currently consisting of: 

(a) ABM interceptor missiles, which are interceptor 

missiles constructed and deployed for an ABM role, 

or of a type tested in an ABM mode; 

(b) ABM launchers, which are launchers constructed 

and deployed for launching ABM interceptor 

missiles; and 

(c) ABM radars, which are radars constructed and 

deployed for an ABM role, or of a type tested in an 

ABM mode.102

Taken together, Articles II and V along with Articles III and IV clearly seem to 

prohibit testing, development, or deployment of any ABM systems except at 

each state’s declared 100 launcher fixed land-based ABM site and at a 

maximum of fifteen fixed land-based test launchers located at agreed test ranges 

(Kwajalein and White Sands for the United States and Sary Shagan for the 

Soviet Union).103

The debate over the proper interpretation of the ABMT on this issue comes 

when attempting to reconcile the seemingly clear prohibitions discussed above 

with the far broader limitations contained in Agreed Statement D: 

In order to insure fulfillment of the obligation not to 

deploy ABM systems and their components except as provided 

in Article III of the Treaty, the Parties agree that in the event 

ABM systems based on other physical principles and including 

components capable of substituting for ABM interceptor 

missiles, ABM launchers, or ABM radars are created in the 

future, specific limitations on such systems and their 

components would be subject to discussion in accordance with 

Article XIII and agreement in accordance with Article XIV of 

the Treaty.104

Taken alone, Agreed Statement D seems to imply that the parties are free to 

develop and test (and thus to “create”) any type (space-based, mobile landbased, etc.) of ABM system (at locations other than the agreed test ranges) so 

long as these new ABM systems are based on other physical principles (OPP). 
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The Reagan Administration contended that this interpretation based on Agreed 

Statement D was the legally correct interpretation (LCI) of the ABMT because 

U.S. negotiators were unsuccessful in their attempts to achieve a more 

comprehensive ban on exotic technologies when the Soviets resisted these 

efforts during negotiations in 1972.105

Many complex issues are raised by this ABMT interpretation dispute 

including: debates over the military utility of space-based BMD, elements of the 

MAD versus warfighting for deterrence debate, unanswered constitutional 

questions concerning the proper role of the Senate in providing advice and 

consent to treaty ratification and the subsequent responsibilities of the 

Legislative and Executive branches, questions on the ability of the Executive 

branch to keep negotiating records secret under Executive Privilege after a 

treaty has been ratified or to change its interpretation of a treaty, violations of 

the ABMT found when examining the subsequent practice of the parties, and 

questions on how to reconcile U.S. constitutional requirements with 

international law obligations such as those contained in the Vienna Convention 

on the Interpretation of Treaties.106 These are very important arms control 

issues but are well beyond the scope of our focus and are not discussed further 

here. 

It is important to recall that the debate over the proper interpretation and 

strategic utility of the ABMT was not a major public issue until raised by the 

Reagan Administration in October 1985 but that this debate has remained 

controversial ever since.107 Regardless of the “proper” interpretation of the 

ABMT, for our purposes, the most important aspect of the treaty during this 

period was its very significant restraining effect on any possible military plans 

for space-based BMD systems and even on planning for new types of ASAT 

systems. The debate also clearly illustrates how ill defined parts of the process 

remain and the power of both the Executive and Legislative branches in 

interpreting and reinterpreting treaty obligations. 

Space and Missile Defense in the 1990s and Beyond. As technology 

has improved, the potential for “high ground” space systems such as spacebased ballistic missile defenses has improved and this has placed increasing 

strains on the ABMT regime. But any BMD system—and particularly a 

space-based BMD system—still faces huge political, fiscal, and technical 

challenges. Despite an intense focus on strategic defense and the expenditure 

of more than $58 billion on research and development during the last 17 

years, the United States still does not have any (space- or other-based) 

deployed strategic defense systems or even the near-term prospect for 

deploying any comprehensive system.108 Throughout, the implications of 

space-based ballistic missile defenses have remained one of the most 

politically charged issues related to arms control and military space. 
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Four recent major developments are most important in shaping the 

environment in which near-term policy decisions on space-based defenses 

will be made. The first two developments moved the United States away 

from deploying BMD while the last two have moved deployment closer. 

Early in his first term, President Clinton and his administration reflected 

traditional Democratic Party ambivalence toward strategic defenses by 

transforming the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization (SDIO) into the 

Ballistic Missile Defense Organization (BMDO). The direction of many 

strategic defense programs was changed along with this semantic change. 

Most importantly, BMDO moved away from the priorities of SDIO and 

placed its major focus on developing theater missile defenses (TMD) rather 

than on national missile defenses (NMD). In concert with this reordering of 

priorities, BMDO ended SDIO programs to develop and deploy the Brilliant 

Pebble (BP) space-based kinetic kill vehicle as the mainstay of the Global 

Protection Against Limited Strikes (GPALS) architecture, deemphasized seabased systems built around Aegis cruisers and destroyers, and ended 

negotiations on managing a cooperative transition to defense deployments 

with the Russians.109 Overall, these changed priorities moved BMDO almost 

exclusively into developing land-based kinetic-kill terminal defense 

systems—an area that may be the most politically acceptable and easiest 

from an arms control perspective but is arguably the least effective and most 

technologically challenging for defense systems. 

The Clinton Administration also changed the political and legal context 

for defensive systems in several ways as it was reorienting the technical 

focus of the program. First, following the breakup of the Soviet Union, it 

used the Standing Consultative Commission (SCC) to negotiate a 

multilateralization of the ABMT to include Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and 

Kazakhstan as states parties to the treaty. Second, as announced at the March 

1997 Helsinki Summit, the Clinton Administration negotiated a demarcation 

agreement that was intended to strengthen and maintain the ABMT regime 

by drawing a line between TMD and NMD. Operationally, the demarcation 

agreement means that defensive systems with velocities of less than three 

kilometers per second (3 km/s) are deemed compliant with the treaty so long 

as they are tested only against targets with velocities of less than 5 km/s and 

ranges under 3500 km.110 Finally and most importantly for our focus, the 

Helsinki agreement also bans all types of space-based TMD. This 

prohibition was somewhat overshadowed by the implications of the 

demarcation agreement but is potentially far more significant. As Dennis 

Ward explains: 
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Although Article V of the ABM Treaty bans space based 

ABM systems, space based TMD interceptor missiles are not 

restricted, except insofar as Article VI(a) precluded giving 

them “capabilities to counter strategic ballistic missiles.” 

And, since Article VI(a) applies only to non-ABM missiles, 

launchers, and radars (not non-ABM “systems” as is 

commonly believed), there is no prohibition on space based 

lasers for TMD in the ABM Treaty. Thus, Helsinki 

represents an unquestionable expansion of the ABM Treaty 

into the sphere of TMD. . . . the Helsinki agreement expands 

the treaty by foreclosing permanently one of the most 

promising ways to conduct missile defense—from space.111

Further complicating matters, the Clinton Administration never submitted its 

multilateralization and demarcation agreements for the Senate’s advice and 

consent to ratification.112

The third set of major arms control developments that will shape the 

environment for missile defense came at the end of the Clinton 

Administration and include: the June 1999 Cologne Joint Statement by 

Presidents Clinton and Boris Yeltsin that the United States and Russia will 

negotiate on modifications or amendments to the ABM Treaty that would 

allow the United States to deploy a more robust NMD system, the 

congressional declaration that it is the policy of the United States to deploy 

an NMD system “as soon as technologically possible,” and the reorientation 

of the Clinton Administration’s so-called “3+3” program for NMD. The 3+3 

program originally called for accelerated research and testing so that, if 

warranted by the threat and technological progress, a decision to deploy 

NMD could be made in June 2000 and the system deployed by 2003. Like 

almost everything associated with missile defense, the 3+3 program became 

highly politicized. Supporters of NMD criticized it for not being a 

development effort commensurate with the threat and because it lacks a 

specific commitment to deploy NMD; critics of NMD argued that the 

technology to support deployment was immature and opposed this approach 

because it undermines the ABM Treaty and START II.113 In this context, 

Defense Secretary William S. Cohen’s January 1999 statements are quite 

significant because they indicated a higher level of support for NMD and 

were a clear evolution away from previous Clinton Administration NMD 

policy. Specifically, Secretary Cohen announced that DOD would budget 

funds necessary to pay for an NMD deployment by increasing its future years 

budget by $6.6 billion, affirmed that there is a growing threat not only to 

troops overseas but also to Americans at home, indicated that deployment 
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might require modification of the ABM Treaty, and kept the June 2000 

deployment decision date but slid the deployment date from 2003 to 2005.114 

Cumulatively, the BMD developments at the end of the Clinton 

Administration mark a clear retreat from some of the changes associated with 

standing up BMDO and the Helsinki agreement and moved the focus of U.S. 

missile defense efforts closer to its orientation prior to 1993. 

Finally, of course, George W. Bush’s Administration has moved rapidly 

away from the ABMT regime and toward near-term BMD testing and 

deployments. During the course of three meetings with Russian President 

Vladimir Putin, President Bush made it clear that his administration intends 

to move forward with defenses, preferably in cooperation with the Russians 

and within the confines of modifications to the ABMT. Administration 

officials also made it clear, however, that they are committed to deploying 

defenses even if that means the United States must do so unilaterally and 

withdraw from the ABMT.115 Bush also faces considerable domestic 

opposition to his plans for accelerating defense deployments and moving 

away from the ABMT, particularly from leading Democrats in the Senate 

such as Tom Daschle (D.-SD) and Carl Levin (D.-MI). 

On 13 December 2001, the Bush Administration provided formal 

notification of the United States’ withdrawal from the ABMT. In accordance 

with Article XV of the Treaty, the effective date of withdrawal will be six 

months from this formal notification.116 In addition, Secretary of Defense 

Donald H. Rumsfeld on 2 January 2002 “approved a major restructuring of 

the Ballistic Missile Defense Organization that includes a name change [to 

the Missile Defense Agency] and creates a leaner process for developing and 

fielding the Defense Department’s missile defense programs.”117 Following 

the 11 September terrorist attacks and the creation of an international 

coalition against terrorism, it is unclear how domestic and international 

support for BMD may change and exactly what types of BMD deployments 

the Bush Administration intends to advocate or will successfully implement. 

It is likely, however, that they will find more international and domestic 

opposition the further they press beyond limited, ground-based deployments 

and, as in the past, plans for space-based BMD are likely to evoke the most 

opposition of all. 

ASAT Developments and ASAT Arms Control 

Current space policy analysts too often assert that international law 

somehow bans ASAT weapons and that any plan to develop or deploy ASAT 

weapons represents a dangerous escalation of the space “arms race.” Neither 

premise is true. As discussed above, broad space treaties such as the OST and 
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ABMT do not ban ASATs or even necessarily provide much protection to 

NTM from ASATs. This section also debunks the idea that any current ASAT 

plans or testing is new and destabilizing by briefly recapping all the major 

ASAT tests and deployments in the past. Along the way, it examines all 

significant ASAT arms control efforts to date. Three major facts emerge from 

this analysis that should be most instructive to us today: First, despite 

considerable effort, the superpowers were unable to reach any agreement on 

ASAT arms control, agree to space “rules-of-the-road,” or even define what 

constitute offensive or defensive space systems; second, both superpowers 

conducted extensive testing and limited deployments of ASATs during the Cold 

War and both sides chose to end their deployments without reaching an ASAT 

arms control agreement; and finally, all the ASAT testing, deployments, and 

deactivations to date are an excellent illustration of how arms can be controlled 

without a formal arms control treaty. For pluralist democracies like the United 

States in particular, arms are always controlled both as a part of the normal 

democratic debates over guns versus butter and by open debates over the 

strategic utility of specific weapons systems. 

Early ASAT Plans. Plans, testing, and then actual deployments of ASAT 

weapons began shortly after the opening of the space age. Because of their 

focus on actual weapons systems, ASAT plans and programs often received 

more support and enthusiasm from within the military than did other types of 

space systems such as force enhancement systems. But the development of 

ASATs and the doctrine for their use was a very sensitive issue that was 

constrained by the space policies of the Eisenhower and Kennedy 

Administrations. Thus, despite Service support for the deployment of ASAT 

weapons (especially manned ASATs) in the early days of the space age, ASAT 

programs moved forward only haltingly and did not result in deployed systems 

until 1963. 

The Sputniks shock provided a clear rationale for the U.S. military to 

explore the need for ASAT systems. Each of the Services advanced some type 

of ASAT proposal prior to the end of November 1957.118 In June 1957, 

General James Gavin had requested that the Army Ballistic Missile Agency 

(ABMA) begin a comprehensive study of this problem; the Army proposal 

briefed to the Office of Special Assistant for Science and Technology on 19 

November was undoubtedly the most detailed and complete of these early 

ASAT proposals.119 The earliest policy guidance on ASATs came following a 

13 February 1958 meeting of the NSC and the adoption of NSC 5802/1, entitled 

“U.S. Policy on Continental Defense.”120 NSC 5802/1 specified that “Defense 

against Satellites and Space vehicles” was an area of “particular importance” 

warranting a “vigorous research and development program . . .”121 Despite this 
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approval for vigorous ASAT R & D in NSC 5802/1, other political factors 

strongly mitigated against substantial U.S. ASAT efforts at this time.122

The major ASAT R & D program underway during the Eisenhower 

Administration was the satellite interceptor system known as the SAINT. The 

idea for an on orbit satellite inspection system had originated in an Air Research 

and Development Command (ARDC) study conducted in 1956.123 The 

Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA) kept this Air Force idea alive 

with very limited contracts for the Radio Corporation of America (RCA) to 

study such an inspection system until the Air Force formally proposed on 5 

April 1960 that prototypes of the SAINT system be built.124 In order to sell its 

proposal, the Air Force had to stress the inspection feature rather than any 

possible ASAT capability of the SAINT but the proposal still faced 

considerable political pressure and the staunch opposition of Science Advisor 

George Kistiakowsky.125 As the result of this emphasis on only the non-lethal 

aspects of SAINT (which was unpopular within the Air Force) and the fact that 

the Air Force had been directed by the Director of Defense Research and 

Engineering (DDRE) Herbert York to pay all costs associated with its 

development, the system now had to face increasing pressures within the Air 

Force as well. By 1962, technical problems with the program, the international 

law implications of on orbit inspection, fears of instigating a space-based ASAT 

race, and the open possibility of accomplishing this mission more easily and 

cheaply in other ways combined with the dwindling support for SAINT both 

within and outside of the Air Force; the Air Force decided to “reorient” the 

SAINT program on 3 December 1962.126

Several other very limited ASAT studies and demonstrations were also 

underway during this period. The most significant of these was the world’s first 

ASAT test conducted by ARDC on 19 October 1959 as a part of Project Bold 

Orion. In this test, a Martin missile was air-launched from a B-47 at the 

Explorer VI satellite as it passed overhead the Eastern Test Range at Cape 

Canaveral.127 Additionally, the Navy studied the feasibility of ship or 

submarine launched ASATs under the code names Early Spring and Skipper in 

the early 1960s. In April and July 1962, the Navy conducted two tests of an airlaunched ASAT missile that were similar to the Bold Orion test.128

Program 505 and 437 ASAT Systems. The advent of the Kennedy 

Administration, rising U.S.-Soviet tensions over Berlin and elsewhere, 

improving space technology, more strident Air Force and industry lobbying for 

space weapon development, and especially the increasingly bellicose Soviet 

space rhetoric combined to cause the U.S. to rethink ASAT issues and 

eventually field its first limited ASAT systems in the early 1960s. As an 

example of the threatening Soviet space rhetoric of the day consider the 
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following statement made by General Secretary Nikita S. Khrushchev on 9 

August 1961 at a reception honoring Gherman Titov’s orbital spaceflight: 

You do not have 50 and 100-megaton bombs. We have bombs 

stronger than 100 megatons. We placed Gagarin and Titov in 

space and we can replace them with other loads that can be 

directed to any place on earth.129

These pressures prompted Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara to make a 

highly secret decision in May 1962 that directed the Army to develop a 

modified Nike Zeus missile as an ASAT system.130 This decision resulted in 

Program 505, a nuclear tipped Nike Zeus ASAT system stationed at Kwajalein 

Atoll in the Pacific Missile Range. Tests of the Program 505 ASAT began in 

December 1962 and the system was declared operational on 1 August 1963.131

As a means of providing further insurance against Soviet orbital threats, on 

15 February 1963 the Air Force was directed to prepare for “operational 

standby capability” with the nuclear tipped Thor ASAT missile it planned to 

begin testing from Johnson Island in the Pacific.132 Designated Program 437, 

the Thor ASAT began testing in February 1964 and reached initial operational 

capability (IOC) on 10 June of the same year.133 President Johnson publicly 

revealed the existence of a U.S. ASAT capability on 17 September 1964 and 

McNamara discussed these two systems in limited detail at a news conference 

the following day.134 Both of these initial ASAT systems suffered from a 

number of very significant operational deficiencies including: an inability to 

attack many satellites in many types of orbits due to the range and azimuth 

limitations imposed by the missiles themselves and by having only two launch 

sites for these direct-assent ASATs; an inability to discriminate in attacking 

individual targets due to the nuclear kill mechanisms on these ASATs; and a 

limited number of ASAT missiles, inadequate tracking and targeting support, 

and a weak logistical infrastructure.135

Following the deployment of the Program 505 and 437 ASAT systems, 

neither DOD nor top civilian leadership was very interested in aggressively 

pursuing new ASAT capabilities and by the early 1970s these deployed systems 

gradually withered away into non-operational status.136 Meanwhile, the Soviets 

developed a non-nuclear co-orbital ASAT that was initially tested between 

1968 and 1971. By the mid-1970s, U.S. recognition of the growing 

significance of military space systems and of the vulnerability of these systems 

prompted Washington to reexamine the need for an ASAT system. Following 

the resumption of Soviet ASAT testing in February 1976, President Ford issued 

National Security Decision Memorandum (NSDM)-345 on 18 January 1977. 

This directive authorized DOD to develop a new non-nuclear ASAT system. 

President Carter attempted to take a two-track approach to the ASAT issue by 
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entering into ASAT negotiations with the Soviets while simultaneously 

continuing the development of the ASAT system authorized by Ford. 

However, by the end of the 1970s, ASAT negotiations had broken down and 

the increasing U.S.-U.S.S.R. tensions made the prospects for ASAT arms 

control very dim. 

Soviet ASAT development efforts during this period provided an important 

impetus for the United States to continue examining its own ASAT programs, 

satellite survivability efforts, and arms control countermeasures. The first “full

and unambiguous” Soviet ASAT test took place during October 1968 although 

several elements of this system and other ASAT related components had been 

tested as early as 1963.137 This earliest Soviet co-orbital system employed a 

modified SS-9 ICBM booster with a radar-guided explosive warhead.138 

Between October 1968 and December 1971, the Soviets conducted seven tests 

of their radar guided ASAT system; generally, five of these tests are deemed to 

have been successful.139 The Nixon Administration did not publicly discuss 

these Soviet ASAT tests for several years; indeed, according to Stares, the first 

public official U.S. recognition of the Soviet system was not made until the 

Soviets were listed as having an “Orbital Antisatellite System” in a table for the 

FY 1972 congressional hearings.140 The Soviets suspended their dedicated 

ASAT testing for slightly more than four years following their December 1971 

test. The rationale behind this test hiatus remains unclear but undoubtedly 

relates to “a combination of budgetary, political, and technical factors.”141

In February 1976, the Soviets resumed their dedicated ASAT testing, 

beginning a thirteen launch test series that lasted until June 1982.142 This 

resumption of Soviet ASAT testing, coming on the heels of other evidence that 

the fruits of détente were less than originally expected, caused considerable 

consternation within the Gerald R. Ford Administration, especially after it 

recognized that the U.S. did not have a well developed policy towards ASAT or 

satellite survivability at this time.143 Following a series of studies for the NSC 

staff and confirmation from DOD that their efforts to remedy U.S. satellite 

vulnerability had not proceeded very far, Ford issued NSDM-333 in the Fall of 

1976.144 NSDM-333 directed DOD to work harder to solve its satellite 

vulnerability problems and resulted in the creation of a separate Systems 

Program Office (SPO) for Space Defense Programs at the Space and Missile 

Systems Office (SAMSO) and in increased funding for these types of efforts.145 

The Buchsbaum Panel completed its report in late 1976 and concluded that a 

U.S. ASAT would not enhance the survivability of U.S. satellites by deterring 

use of the Soviet ASAT because the U.S. was more dependent upon space than 

the Soviets.146 However, the report also concluded that a U.S. ASAT could be 

used to counter the threat to U.S. forces posed by Soviet space-based targeting 

systems and that the development of a U.S. system could serve as a “bargaining 
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chip” in possible U.S.-U.S.S.R. ASAT arms control negotiations.147 In one of 

the final acts of his presidency, on 18 January 1977 Ford signed NSDM-345, 

which directed the DOD to develop an operational ASAT system.148 This 

directive initiated the miniature homing vehicle (MHV) ASAT program 

described below. 

The 1978-79 ASAT Negotiations. The Carter Administration arrived in 

Washington imbued with a Wilsonian sense of idealism and convinced that the 

Cold War and the nuclear arms race could be ended. These sentiments 

motivated Secretary of State Cyrus Vance’s journey to Moscow in March 1977 

to present the Soviets with the administration’s “comprehensive proposal” for 

strategic arms control. Just prior to Vance’s journey, Carter publicly announced 

that the U.S. had already proposed ASAT negotiations to the Soviets and, at this 

same time, he secretly issued Policy Review Memorandum (PRM)-23 which 

directed the NSC Policy Review Committee (PRC) to “thoroughly review 

existing policy and formulate overall principles which should guide our space 

activities.”149 The Soviets soundly rejected the administration’s comprehensive 

proposal but did agree to set up various working groups to discuss specific arms 

control issues, including one for ASAT issues.150 Thus, early in his 

administration, Carter set the stage for the U.S. to pursue ASAT arms control 

and to review space policy comprehensively as called for by PRM-23. 

Carter’s two-track policy for simultaneously pursuing ASAT development 

and ASAT arms control began to take definite form by the Fall of 1977. The 

Vought Corporation was named prime contractor for the Air Force’s Miniature 

Homing Vehicle (MHV) ASAT on 3 September.151 The Decision Paper from 

PRM-23 was completed on 23 September. According to the later testimony of 

DDRE William Perry, the PRM Decision Paper required “that we seek a 

comprehensive ASAT agreement prohibiting testing in space, deployment and 

use of ASAT capability . . . .”152 It soon became apparent, however, that there 

were major disagreements within the administration over ASATs. The primary 

battle lines were drawn between State and ACDA on the one hand and the JCS 

and OSD on the other with the former favoring a comprehensive ASAT ban and 

the latter looking to avoid such comprehensive measures and proposing “rules 

of the road” for space instead.153 This considerable divergence of opinion was 

not resolved at the working group level and Carter apparently directed that a 

date be set for negotiations as a means to encourage compromises within the 

administration.154 This tactic did not work and the U.S. delegation entered the 

first round of talks without a formal negotiating position.155

U.S. and Soviet negotiators met for three rounds of ASAT talks: 8-16 June 

1978 in Helsinki, 23 January-16 February 1979 in Bern, and 23 April-17 June 

1979 in Vienna. Apparently, the two sides were far apart on most issues during 

the first two sessions and by the third session the sides had drawn closer 
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together but mainly by limiting the depth and scope of what they were trying to 

accomplish. Some of the controversies which have publicly emerged include 

debates over: an ASAT ban versus limitations or rules of the road; the degree of 

protection afforded to third-party satellites; long versus short testing moratoria; 

and how to deal with systems having residual ASAT capabilities—for example, 

the Soviets insisted that the U.S. Space Shuttle then under development be 

included as an ASAT system.156 By the third session, both sides had apparently 

tabled draft agreements that only covered provisions on “no use” of ASAT 

weapons but even at this longest negotiating session they were unable to reach 

closure on this most basic issue.157

Both sides expected that the negotiations would continue but several factors 

intervened. Most importantly, President Carter and General Secretary Leonid I. 

Brezhnev signed the SALT II Treaty on 18 June 1979—from that point until the 

invasion of Afghanistan, the Carter Administration was consumed with 

attempting to get public support for and Senate advice and consent to 

ratification of the treaty and the ASAT negotiations along with many other 

issues were placed on the back burner. The breakdown of U.S.-U.S.S.R. 

relations following the invasion of Afghanistan and the arrival of the Reagan 

Administration with its initial lesser enthusiasm for arms control spelled the end 

of the ASAT negotiations. 

These ASAT negotiations were the most militarily focused space-related 

arms control efforts of the Cold War era; as such, these negotiations offer 

important general lessons about ASAT arms control issues and the general 

prospects for space-related arms control. First and foremost, the failure to reach 

any agreement at these negotiations highlights the extreme conceptual and 

operational difficulties involved in attempting to reach a significant ASAT arms 

control agreement. The unresolved doctrinal conflicts regarding the military 

utility of space and the considerable overlap between civilian and military space 

systems and infrastructures contribute directly to the amorphous nature of 

military space issues and to the lack of clarity regarding the proper scope or 

object of ASAT arms control. ASAT arms control involves extremely difficult 

issues in many areas such as: whether the objective should be to ban the 

development and testing of dedicated ASAT systems or to create confidenceand security-building measures (CSBMs) such as rules of the road and keep out 

zones; conceptual and verification problems related to systems with significant 

residual ASAT capability and the significant military potential of even a few 

covert ASAT systems; and questions concerning whether the scope of the 

negotiations should cover some superpower satellites, all military satellites, or 

all (including third-party) satellites. 

As Stares details, the failure of the 1978-79 ASAT negotiations also 

highlights difficulties with two-track approaches to arms control. Two-track 
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approaches are seemingly attractive for dealing with divergent positions 

within an administration but they may actually impede progress towards 

eventual resolution of policy differences by creating committed 

constituencies behind each track that oppose the compromises that may be 

required to create coherent policy. Stares argues that the U.S. two-track 

approach to ASAT arms control legitimized and perpetuated the MHV 

ASAT system—a system which he believes had value only as a bargaining 

chip. Finally, the failure to reach an agreement also highlights what Ashton 

Carter refers to as the “basic paradox of ASAT arms control”: the inverse 

relationship between ASATs and the incentive to place very threatening 

military systems in space.158 Clearly, space weapons cannot be divorced 

from the natural offense-defense dialectic and the trade-offs inherent in all 

strategic thinking. Accordingly, analysts should consider not only the 

supposedly destabilizing effects of ASATs on stabilizing space systems such 

as those which provide the hotline, early warning, or NTM for arms control 

but should also consider the possibly stabilizing effects of ASATs in 

discouraging the development of potentially destabilizing space missions 

such as force targeting and space-to-Earth force application. This basic 

paradox, together with the major conceptual difficulties outlined above call 

into question the overall desirability of ASAT arms control. 

ASAT Developments and Restrictions in the 1980s. The Reagan 

Administration’s first space policy, National Security Decision Directive 

(NSDD)-42 issued on the 4th of July 1982, clearly moved the United States 

toward deploying ASATs: 

the U.S. national security space program would be guided by 

the following four policies: an emphasis on the survivability 

and endurance of all space system elements and “an 

aggressive, long-term program” to “provide more assured 

survivability”; the development of an operational ASAT 

system capable of deterring threats to U.S. space systems 

and denying enemy space-based force enhancement 

capabilities; a program to “develop and maintain an 

integrated attack warning, notification, verification, and 

contingency reaction capability” to detect and react to threats 

to U.S. space forces; and maintenance of appropriate 

security classifications for space systems in accordance with 

Executive orders and applicable directives.159 

By this time the MHV ASAT system had taken a definitive shape.160 After 

considering several basing modes, the Air Force decided on an air-launched 
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version of this system and developed plans to modify 40 F-15 fighters as 

ASAT launch platforms.161 The ASAT weapon consisted of three parts: the 

first stage was a modified Boeing short-range attack missile (SRAM), the 

second stage a Vought Altair III booster, and the final stage was the MHV 

itself. The MHV was a small KEW about the same size as a juice can (12 by 

13 inches) that used eight cryogenically cooled infrared telescopes to acquire 

its target and several dozen small solid rocket thrusters designed to align the 

MHV laterally on course to its target. 

Meanwhile, Soviet ASAT testing and ASAT arms control proposals 

continued. In January and March 1981, the Soviets tested their dedicated coorbital ASAT system with the former being an unsuccessful test of their 

newer optical-thermal guidance system and the latter being a successful test 

of their older radar guidance system.162 Then, on 18 June 1982 the Soviets 

conducted their last unambiguous ASAT test as a part of a major strategic 

forces exercise.163 The Soviets were also busy on the ASAT arms control 

front during this period. On 20 August 1981, Soviet Foreign Minister Anrdei 

A. Gromyko submitted a “Draft Treaty on the Prohibition of the Stationing of 

Weapons of Any Kind in Outer Space” to the UNGA. Overall, this draft 

treaty contained a number of significant conceptual shortcomings including a 

failure to define adequately the types of weapons which would be covered 

under its terms, a lack of any coverage for ground-based ASAT weapons, 

and the apparent sanctioning of the use of force against space objects which a 

State Party to the treaty determines are not in accordance with the provisions 

of Article 1 of the treaty.164

During the Summer of 1983, the Soviets initiated a second and more 

comprehensive ASAT arms control offensive which was undoubtedly 

designed, at least in part, to strengthen domestic U.S. anti-ASAT forces in 

Congress and elsewhere. On 19 August 1983, Soviet General Secretary Yuri 

V. Andropov informed a group of U.S. Senators visiting Moscow that the 

U.S.S.R. would not “be the first to put into outer space any type of 

antisatellite weapon” and would impose “a unilateral moratorium on such 

launchings” so long as other countries “will refrain from stationing in outer 

space antisatellite weapons of any type.”165 The following day, Gromyko 

introduced a second draft treaty at the UN. The second draft treaty was a 

considerable improvement over the first draft in that it was more 

comprehensive and used more precise language. However, the Reagan 

Administration remained quite cool to these Soviet initiatives and still did not 

seek ASAT negotiations; the administration cited significant difficulties 

including problems with the U.S. ability to verify the apparent Soviet offer to 

dismantle their existing co-orbital ASAT system, more general verification 

issues, and the continuing problem of the significant residual ASAT 
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capabilities of both sides.166 Thus, while these Soviet draft treaties did not 

serve as the direct basis for reopening U.S.-U.S.S.R. ASAT arms control 

negotiations, they were certainly important in conditioning the general arms 

control setting at this time. Superpower ASAT negotiations were restarted in 

March 1985 as a subset of the broad Defense and Space Talks.167

High-level political forces within the United States also interacted with 

these Soviet initiatives to fundamentally shape the MHV ASAT program 

during the mid-1980s. Varying types of congressional restrictions on the 

MHV ASAT program began in 1983 and continued throughout the next five 

years. Senator Larry Pressler (D.-SD) called the first major hearing on this 

issue on 20 September 1982.168 ACDA Director Eugene Rostow and UDRE 

Dr. Richard D. DeLauer were the principal witnesses at this hearing. In 

making his case for a measured approach towards ASAT arms control, 

Director Rostow highlighted the threat posed to U.S. forces by Soviet space 

systems, the need for a U.S. ASAT to address the current asymmetrical 

situation and as a possible “inducement for the Soviet Union to explore 

constructive limits on space weapons[.]”, and the difficulties in verifying 

ASAT arms control.169 Further hearings on ASAT and related issues were 

called in April and May of 1983.170 These hearings were primarily designed 

to build support within Congress for Senator Pressler’s “sense of the Senate” 

Resolution 43 and Senator Tsongas’s Joint Resolution 28. Joint Resolution 

28 was more comprehensive and indicated: 

That the president shall resume immediately bilateral talks with the 

Soviet Union for the purpose of negotiating a comprehensive treaty 

prohibiting 

(1) the testing, production, deployment, or use of any 

space-based, air-based, or ground-based weapons system 

which is designed to damage, destroy, or interfere with the 

functioning of any spacecraft of any nation; and 

(2) the stationing in orbit around the Earth, on any 

celestial body, or at any other location in outer space of any 

weapon which has been designed to inflict injury or cause 

any other form of damage on the Earth, in the atmosphere, or 

on objects placed in space.171

By this time a combination of factors including President Reagan’s “star 

wars” speech, the impasse in superpower arms control and the general 

worsening of U.S.-U.S.S.R. relations, as well as the growing strength of the 

nuclear freeze movement was pushing the Senate towards the belief that it 

had to act firmly and rapidly to preserve space as a sanctuary free from 
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further ASAT developments. On 18 July 1983, Senator Tsongas’s 

amendment to the FY 1984 DOD Authorization Act was approved. The 

Tsongas amendment withheld DOD funds for testing the MHV ASAT 

system unless the president certified both that the U.S. was negotiating with 

the Soviets in good faith on this issue and that such testing was in the 

interests of U.S. national security.172 The House Appropriations Committee 

went even further and withheld $19.4 million in FY 1984 advanced 

procurement funds from the MHV ASAT; following intense administration 

lobbying, the conference with the Senate restored this funding with the 

proviso that the administration provide Congress with a report on U.S. ASAT 

policy by 31 March 1984.173

The Reagan Administration mounted some efforts to counter these 

congressional restrictions on testing the MHV ASAT system. The “Report to 

Congress: U.S. Policy on ASAT Arms Control” delivered to Congress on 31 

March 1984 raised several questions concerning the basic strategic utility of 

an ASAT ban and strongly reiterated the administration’s many concerns 

with ASAT arms control.174 The report detailed more than four pages of 

“Problems Facing ASAT Arms Control” and summarized the current 

situation facing U.S. space systems as follows: 

Deterrence provided by a U.S. ASAT capability would 

inhibit Soviet attacks against U.S. satellites, but deterrence is 

not sufficient to protect U.S. satellites. Because of the 

potential for covert development of ASAT capabilities and 

because of the existence of non-specialized weapons which 

also have ASAT capability, no arms control measures have 

been identified which can fully protect U.S. satellites. 

Hence, we must continue to pursue satellite survivability 

measures to cope with both known and technologically 

possible, yet undetected, threats.175

In hearings on the FY 1985 DOD appropriations, Air Force Under Secretary 

Pete Aldridge allowed that the Air Force did have “some concerns” with the 

Tsongas and the McHugh amendments.176 Despite this rather limited and 

unenthusiastic Air Force support for removing the congressional restrictions 

on MHV ASAT testing, the administration was successful during the 

Summer of 1984 “in preventing further limitations on US ASAT testing and 

also managed to water down the restrictive language of the Tsongas 

Amendment.”177

The lessening of these restrictions was important in allowing MHV 

ASAT testing to continue during 1985. The most complete test of this 

system took place on 13 September 1985 when the MHV successfully 
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intercepted and destroyed Air Force satellite P78-1.178 Although it was not 

clear at the time, this proved to be the only MHV ASAT test against a 

satellite in space. In December, an amendment sponsored by Representatives 

Norman D. Dicks (D.-WA) and Les AuCoin (D.-OR) banned testing of the 

U.S. MHV ASAT against objects in space unless the President certified that 

the Soviets had violated their moratorium by conducting a dedicated ASAT 

test.179 This restriction gave the Soviets, who had developed two types of 

guidance systems and conducted at least 20 tests in space of their dedicated 

co-orbital ASAT system between 1968-1982, a virtual veto over further U.S. 

testing of its MHV ASAT. In February 1986, the Air Force developed a plan 

to skirt this congressional restriction on testing against objects in space by 

testing the MHV’s ability to lock onto the heat of a distant star.180 On 22 

August and 30 September, the Air Force conducted two “successful” ASAT 

tests in space against the infrared energy of stars under the interpretation of 

the congressional restriction it had developed in February.181

Despite continuing controversy and administration efforts to ease testing 

restrictions, Congress imposed similar bans on testing the MHV unless the 

Soviets tested first during FY 1987 and 1988 as well.182 By this time, these 

testing restrictions combined with major funding cutbacks were starting to 

have a very serious impact on the prospects for completing the testing and 

development of the MHV system.183 At a news conference on 10 March 

1987, Secretary Weinberger announced plans to resume MHV testing against 

points in space during the last quarter of 1988 as one part of a three-part plan 

to enhance U.S. ASAT capabilities and field operational systems by the early 

1990s.184 At this same conference, Air Force Brigadier General Robert R. 

Rankine, Jr., Director of Space Systems in the Air Force Research 

Development and Acquisition Office, discussed plans to study a new groundlaunched ASAT system which would double the range of the MHV.185 Most 

significantly, however, Rankine appeared to contradict Weinberger’s earlier 

statement about the value of resumed MHV testing by indicating that the 

program had “reached the point where it is ‘not meaningful’ to proceed 

unless tests can be conducted against space targets.”186 In December 1987, 

the Air Force, publicly citing continuing congressional testing restrictions for 

FY 1988 and the need to cut the DOD budget, proposed cancellation of the 

MHV ASAT program.187 Following the lifting of congressional ASAT 

testing restrictions for FY 1989, in December 1989 the Army took the lead in 

developing a new U.S. ASAT system.188

In retrospect, it is very revealing to analyze the role of DOD and 

especially the Air Force in attempting to sell the MHV ASAT to Congress 

and in attempting to overturn the congressional restrictions on this system. 

The strength of these efforts should provide an excellent indication of the 
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doctrinal importance of an operational ASAT system to DOD and the Air 

Force. In this regard, it is immediately apparent that neither DOD nor the 

Air Force mounted anything near an all-out effort to sell the MHV ASAT or 

to remove the congressional restrictions on this system. Granted that the 

ASAT was not a large program in comparison with many other important 

and troubled programs of this era and that many broader strategic concerns 

during this volatile time were more important, it is nonetheless remarkable 

how little overall support the MHV ASAT received from the Pentagon. Even 

more telling is the fact that the MHV generally received its strongest 

Pentagon support from the civilian defense officials of OSD and the Office 

of the Secretary of the Air Force rather than from the uniformed military. 

Generally, DOD officials did not mention the MHV forcefully or often 

during the mid-1980s.189 Overall, the MHV received even less support from 

Air Force organizations at this time. Indeed, at times it would have been 

difficult determining that the MHV ASAT was an Air Force program. Under 

Secretary Aldridge’s 1984 testimony noting his limited concerns with the 

Tsongas and McHugh amendments was already discussed above. During 

1985 and 1986, neither the Office of the Secretary of the Air Force, 

AFSPACECOM nor USSPACECOM mounted effective campaigns on 

behalf of the MHV or the general need for U.S. space control capabilities.190 

The course of ASAT developments during this period again clearly 

demonstrates that, for this issue in particular, civilian defense decisionmakers were dominant over the military and that perceptions of national 

security rather than organizational behavior shaped these developments. 

Recent Space-Related Arms Control Developments 

With the end of the Cold War, many formal arms control efforts have 

been deemphasized and most space-related arms control efforts are no 

exception. There have been, nonetheless, some very important space-related 

provisions in recent treaties and agreements. Moreover, the recent growth in 

commercial space activity undoubtedly creates an opportunity if not a need 

for expanded regulation and control in this area. This section briefly reviews 

some of the most important recent developments. 

START I and II. The 1991 Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty I (START 

I) is a bilateral treaty between the United States and Soviet Union designed to 

reduce the number of deployed strategic offensive arms (warheads and 

delivery vehicles) maintained by each.191 Several of the broad provisions in 

START I build on previous arms control treaties. For example, START I 

repeats the NTM provisions first contained in the ABMT but also relies on 

extensive OSI verification protocols to assure compliance.192 In addition, 
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START I strengthens the OST prohibition on the placement of weapons of 

mass destruction in outer space. Article V, Paragraph 18 of the Treaty 

prohibits each party from producing, testing, or deploying systems, including 

missiles, for placing nuclear weapons or any other kinds of weapons of mass 

destruction into Earth orbit or a fraction of an Earth orbit.193 This is an 

important provision designed to ban fractional orbital bombardment systems 

(FOBS) such as the one successfully tested by the Soviet Union from 1965 to 

1971.194

START I has many new implications for military space operations as 

well. There are several restrictions on the use of ICBMs or Submarine 

Launched Ballistic Missiles (SLBMs) as space launch boosters. For 

example, the Treaty places restrictions on the number, type and location of 

ICBMs and SLBMs used to boost objects into the upper atmosphere or space, 

and limits the number and location of space launch facilities used to support 

such launches.195 Objects launched by ICBMs or SLBMs into the upper 

atmosphere or space are also subject to the Treaty’s telemetry requirements. 

In a major departure from past practice, the treaty requires the party 

conducting any peacetime launch of an ICBM or SLBM to make on-board 

technical measurements, broadcast all telemetric information obtained from 

such measurements in a way that allows full access to the information, and 

then provide a recording and analysis of that data to the other party. For 

objects delivered by ICBMs or SLBMs into the upper atmosphere or space, 

the telemetry provisions only apply until the object(s) being delivered either 

are in orbit or have achieved escape velocity.196 Furthermore, advance 

launch notification must be made to the other treaty party whenever an 

ICBM or SLBM is used as a booster for delivering objects into the upper 

atmosphere or space. Such notification is provided in accordance with the 

provisions of START I and the Ballistic Missile Launch Notification 

Agreement.197 START I might also affect on-going space control and force 

application initiatives. For example, if the planned Space Operations Vehicle 

was designed with a conventional strike capability, it might be held 

accountable under START I limitations on heavy bombers equipped for 

nuclear armaments other than long-range nuclear air launched cruise 

missiles. No exhibition would be required but the vehicle’s distinguishing 

features would be listed in the START Memorandum of Understanding. In 

addition, the facility where the vehicle is based would have to be declared as 

a heavy bomber base but would not be subject to inspection unless it 

contained a weapons storage area. A determination of treaty applicability, if 

any, would be subject to discussion between the parties.198 

The 1993 Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty II (START II) between the 

United States and Russia further reduces the number of deployed strategic 
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offensive arms mandated by START I. All of the provisions of START I 

applicable to outer space described above also apply to START II. This 

treaty is not yet in force and it currently appears unlikely that it will come 

into effect anytime soon.199 A number of major issues currently weigh 

against START II entering into force or even necessarily serving as the basis 

for further negotiations including: level at which the “floor” for deployed 

strategic offensive arms should be set, the proper relationship between 

strategic offensive and strategic defensive force in President Bush’s “new 

framework,” and the Bush Administration’s seemingly limited enthusiasm 

for formal arms control. 

Finally, in addition to the notifications required by the START Treaties 

and the Ballistic Missile Launch Notification Agreement, the United States 

and Russia have recently signed two new agreements expanding launch 

notifications to include all space launch vehicles. On 4 June 2000 at the 

Moscow Summit, President Clinton and Russian President Putin signed a 

memorandum of agreement to establish a joint data exchange center (JDEC) 

in Moscow to share early warning information on missile and space 

launches.200 Once the JDEC is completed and commences operations, the 

two countries are supposed to exchange information obtained from their 

respective ground and space-based early warning systems on U.S. and 

Russian space launches (with rare exceptions) including time of launch, 

generic missile class, geographic area of the launch, and launch azimuth. 

Eventually this exchange of data will also include data sharing on detected 

space launches of other states. On 16 December 2000 U.S. Secretary of State 

Madeline K. Albright and Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov signed a 

memorandum of understanding establishing a Pre- and Post-Launch 

Notification System (PLNS) for launches of ballistic missiles and, with rare 

exceptions, space launch vehicles, identifying launch window, time of 

launch, generic missile class, geographic area of the launch, and launch 

azimuth.201 The PLNS Information Center will be an Internet-based system 

operated as part of the JDEC. Both agreements provide for the voluntary 

notification of satellites forced from orbit and certain space experiments that 

could adversely affect the operation of early warning radars, and both 

agreements leave open the possibility of negotiations on future data sharing 

on missiles that intercept objects not located on the Earth’s surface. The 

JDEC and PLNS are among the most detailed and comprehensive spacerelated CSBM ever negotiated. They are designed to enhance stability by 

limiting flexibility and clandestine operations. The wide spectrum of opinion 

on the utility of these latest agreements is another excellent illustration of 

how fundamental disagreements on military space strategy can color all 

subsequent analysis.202 
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CONTENTIOUS AREAS FOR SPACE-RELATED ARMS CONTROL 

AND REGULATION TO 2015 

The final section of this essay addresses five space-related areas that 

contain significant conflict today and are likely to remain contentious into the 

future. The foundation for the analysis in this section was laid by the 

discussion in many of the issue-areas above and builds on the arms control 

and regulation analysis already presented. It uses politics and technology as 

the two primary dimensions for analysis of potential avenues for spacerelated arms control and regulation. 

In general and to the extent possible, most space policies and regulation 

should be directed towards maximizing the development of robust 

competition and open markets. This approach will help commercial space 

grow as quickly as possible and provide spillover benefits to all space 

sectors. But mature space industries and space markets in all parts of the 

commercial space sector will not simply spring forth fully formed, as did 

Athena from the head of Zeus. There will be many opportunities and 

requirements for the United States and other major space actors to use a 

variety of tools to shape commercial space and its interaction with the other 

space sectors. Security considerations should predominate in the defense and 

intelligence space sectors, and there are also some relatively limited areas 

within the commercial sector where national security considerations should 

trump economic concerns. Moreover, the increasing interdependence of the 

four space sectors due, primarily, to the growth in the commercial space 

sector now makes crafting enlightened and useful arms control and 

regulation an increasingly challenging task. 

Were it possible, it would undoubtedly be preferable to jump straight to 

2015 and discuss the potential utility of various arms control and regulation 

regimes for the projected global space security environment. If the 

discussion above shows anything, however, it is that such a leap forward 

would be an act of hubris and would likely end up being counterproductive. 

Our vision ahead is limited because the global security implications of space 

are so complex, multidimensional, and volatile. Moreover, the security 

implications of the burgeoning commercial space sector throw a novel 

element into the mix that carries with it compressed timelines for decisionmaking, new actors, new technologies, and untested markets. Accordingly, 

this essay inductively builds on today’s controversies to analyze areas where 

space-related arms control and regulation will be most needed rather than 

deductively speculating about the space security environment of 2015 and 

how it might be controlled. 
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Space Weaponization 

At a fundamental level, virtually all issues of space strategy turn on 

broad questions related to weaponizing space such as whether space will be 

weaponized, how that might happen, which states and other actors might be 

most interested in leading or opposing weaponization, and how any of these 

space weaponization issues might best be controlled. At the political level, 

there is, of course, a broad spectrum of opinion on these issues but most of 

the major tenets in mainstream views on weaponizing space can usefully be 

grouped into four major camps: space hawks, inevitable weaponizers, 

militarization realists, and space doves.203 Each of these camps is described 

below and they are used to analyze sources of support or opposition for 

attempts to control space weaponization. 

Space Hawks. Adherents to this camp believe that space already is or 

holds the potential to become the dominant source of military power. 

Accordingly, they advocate that the United States move quickly and directly 

to develop and deploy space weapons in order to control and project power 

from this dominant theater of combat operations. According to Senator Bob 

Smith (R-NH), for example, the concerted development of American space 

weapons “will buy generations of security that all the ships, tanks, and 

airplanes in the world will not provide. . . . Without it, we will become 

vulnerable beyond our worst fears.”204 In addition, space hawks often point 

to space-based BMD as a potentially decisive weapon capable of 

fundamentally reordering the strategic balance. Space Hawks tend to oppose 

virtually all space-related arms control or regulation because of its potential 

to slow or derail rapid and direct space weaponization by the United States. 

Inevitable Weaponizers. This group believes that space, like all other 

environments man has encountered, will eventually be weaponized. They 

differ from space hawks in two important ways: they are not convinced that 

space weaponization would be beneficial for U.S. or global security and they 

are unsure that space will prove to be the decisive theater of combat 

operations. The Space Commission report is a good example of this camp: 

“we know from history that every medium—air, land and sea—has seen 

conflict. Reality indicates that space will be no different. Given this virtual 

certainty, the U.S. must develop the means both to deter and to defend 

against hostile acts in and from space.”205 Inevitable weaponizers take a 

nuanced view of space arms control and regulation. They generally support 

CSBMs and other mechanisms designed to slow military competition and 

channel it in predictable ways. But they are less supportive of broad efforts 

to ban space weapons because they see them as futile or even dangerous due 
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to their potential to lull the United States into complacency or otherwise 

cause it to be outmaneuvered by states that successfully circumvent space 

weaponization accords. 

Militarization Realists. Members of this camp oppose space 

weaponization because they believe U.S. security interests are best served by 

the status quo in space. They believe that the United States has little to gain 

but much to lose by weaponizing space because it is both the leading user of 

space and, enabled by this space use, the dominant terrestrial military power. 

Militarization realists also believe that if the United States takes the lead in 

weaponizing space, it would become easier for other states to follow due to 

lower political and technological barriers. For these reasons, militarization 

realists believe that “fighting into space looks feasible and we should plan for 

the eventuality. Fighting in space shows little promise, while fighting from

space looks impractical for the foreseeable future, with or without 

treaties.”206 Militarization realists support space-related arms control and 

regulation that precludes other states from weaponizing or even militarizing 

space. Most of them believe, however, that this support must be balanced 

against the increased attention that formalized arms control efforts could 

draw to the United States’ already formidable space-enabled force 

enhancement capabilities and the political, military, and arms control fallout 

this increased scrutiny might cause. 

Space Doves. Finally, a wide range of organizations and viewpoints can 

be grouped together in the space dove camp because they all oppose space 

weaponization for a variety of reasons including moral, arms control, conflict 

resolution, stability, and ideology arguments. Most space doves also oppose 

any militarization of space beyond the limited missions they see as 

stabilizing—NTM, early warning, and hotline communications—because 

they see any military missions beyond these as the “slippery slope” to space 

weaponization. Most space doves emphasize how destabilizing most space 

militarization and all space weaponization would be. “Unlike the strategy for 

nuclear weapons, there exists no obvious strategy for employing space 

weapons that will enhance global stability. If the precedent of evading 

destabilizing situations is to continue—and that is compatible with a long 

history of US foreign policy—one ought to avoid space-based weapons.”207 

They also highlight the deep roots of President Eisenhower’s “space for 

peaceful purposes” policy and argue that, especially in the post-Cold War 

era, there is no rationale for space weaponization that is strong enough to 

overturn the basic strategic logic America developed at the opening of the 

space age. Space doves support space arms control and regulation more 

strongly than any other camp. Since they do not believe the United States (or 

other states) would reap strategic benefits from weaponizing space, they are 
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not overly concerned about the numerous arms control challenges identified 

by the other camps. Moreover, like Stares, most space doves would not 

support using two track approaches to space arms control. 

Given the divergent perspectives on space’s strategic utility and the role 

for space arms control and regulation contained within the four camps, there 

is, at the political level, no clear path forward for the United States. No clear 

path emerges when using Allison’s rational actor (Model I) lens.208 

Likewise, moving down the ladder of abstraction to Allison’s Models II and 

III by acknowledging the multiplicity of organizations and individuals that 

contribute to the pulling and hauling of governmental decision-making 

within a pluralist democracy such as the United States does not highlight a 

vector for space arms control. Clearly, it would be formidable challenge to 

provide enough incentives and assemble coalitions capable of pushing any 

camp’s preferred vision for space arms control forward. In this context, it 

seems quite unlikely that the United States can or will provide strong or 

consistent leadership for space arms control and regulation. It is more likely 

that the United States would move forward in response to external space 

arms control initiatives or trigger events related to the weaponization of 

space.209

On the technical side of the equation, space arms control and regulation 

designed to control the weaponization of space faces all of the problems that 

plagued attempts to develop arms control in this area in the past. The most 

serious of these problems include: disagreements over the proper scope and 

object of negotiations; basic definitional issues about what is a space system 

and how they might be categorized as offensive or defensive and stabilizing 

or destabilizing; and questions concerning how any agreement might be 

adequately verified. These problems relate to a number of very thorny 

specific issues such as whether the negotiations should be bilateral or 

multilateral, what satellites and other systems should be covered, and 

whether the object should be control of space weapons or CSBMs for space; 

questions concerning which types of CSBMs such as rules of the road or 

keep out zones, for example, might be most useful and how these might be 

reconciled with existing space law such as the OST; and verification 

problems such as how to address residual ASAT capabilities or deal with the 

significant military potential of even a small number of covert ASAT 

systems. New space system technologies, the growth of the commercial 

space sector, and new verification technologies interact with these existing 

problems in complex ways. Some of the changes would seem to favor arms 

control and regulation, such as better radars and optical systems for improved 

space situation awareness and verification, technologies for better space 

system diagnostics, and the stabilizing potential of microsatellite-based 
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redundant and distributed space architectures. Many other trends, however, 

would seem to make space arms control and regulation even more difficult. 

For example, microsatellites might be used as virtually undetectable active 

ASATs or passive space mines; the proliferation of space technology has 

radically increased the number of significant space actors and these ranks 

now include a number of non-state actors; and growth in the commercial 

space sector raises issues such as how quasi-military systems should be 

protected or negated and the unclear security implications of emerging 

markets for dual-use systems. Cumulatively, just as with the political factors 

listed above, it seems doubtful that there are many technical factors that will 

advance space arms control and regulation designed to control space 

weaponization significantly through 2015. 

High-Altitude Nuclear Detonations (HAND) 

The threat caused by HAND is sufficiently different and potentially 

damaging that it warrants discussion and analysis separate from the broad 

space weaponization issues raised above. Just one such detonation holds the 

potential to disable all non-hardened Low-Earth Orbit (LEO) satellites. 

Today, these assets are worth tens of billions of dollars; this class of assets is 

very likely to be worth far more by 2015; and this threat poses daunting 

detection, deterrence, and defense challenges—not least of which is the fact 

that such an attack would take place outside the sovereign jurisdiction of any 

state and not directly kill a single person.210 As such, HAND is a unique 

asymmetric threat that is the single “most potentially disruptive and 

dangerous possibility.”211 This section first briefly examines the nature of 

the threat and then discusses potential technical and political responses. 

HAND can destroy or disrupt LEO satellites in two primary ways. First, 

prompt X-rays can upset or burnout the electronics for the five to ten percent 

of each LEO constellation within line of sight of the explosion.212 Second, in 

weeks to months, potentially all non-hardened LEO satellites can fail due to 

the cumulative effects of phenomena such as transient-radiation effects on 

electronics (TREE) and system generated electromagnetic pulse (SGEMP) as 

the satellites operate in the greatly increased radiation belts the explosions 

cause in LEO orbits.213 One of the largest problems, however, in assessing 

the specific level of threat posed by HAND is a lack of experimental data on 

the effects of HAND on satellites (especially on modern satellite systems) 

and this contributes to a range of assessments concerning the severity of the 

threat.214 The United States conducted two high-altitude nuclear test series 

before such testing was banned by the LTBT; the tests were conducted in 
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August and September of 1958 and again during the Summer and Fall of 

1962.215 The ARGUS series was designed to test and did confirm the theory of 

Nicholas Christofilos of the University of California’s Radiation Laboratory 

that the high-energy electrons produced in a high-altitude explosion would 

become trapped in the Earth’s magnetic field.216 As predicted, these trapped 

particles do “pump” up the radiation belts through which LEO satellites pass 

during each orbit and slowly build a potentially fatal radiation dose for the 

satellite’s electronics. The good news is that satellites can be hardened against 

nuclear effects including TREE and SGEMP. According to the HALEOS 

study: “sufficient hardening to survive HAND-induced total radiation dose 

could add 2-3 percent to satellite costs beyond what is required to harden 

against the natural environment.”217

What are the best technical and political options for the United States to 

mitigate the risks associated with HAND? Watts is surely correct is his 

assessment that “for the next 15-20 years, the most sensible stratagem for 

preventing an exo-atmospheric nuclear detonation is a combination of 

deterrence and hardening the satellites themselves.”218 These two best 

options are emphasized below. However, as with the other most difficult 

security challenges such as counterproliferation or the other most challenging 

space cases discussed below, a comprehensive, layered, and synergistic 

approach to this threat would seem to offer the best prospects for success. 

For these cases, the United States should pursue a range of policies designed 

to move up the escalatory ladder from denial, to reassurance and dissuasion, 

cooperative and involuntary reversal, deterrence, passive and active defenses, 

through counterforce operations including preemptive strikes.219 For HAND 

more specifically, the United States should begin by continuing its arms 

control efforts such as the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) and Missile 

Technology Control Regime (MTCR) designed to deny potential adversaries 

the tools necessary to carry out a HAND. It should reassure and dissuade 

these actors by attempting to imbed them in the global information 

infrastructure by sharing the fruits of LEO architectures (perhaps by crosssubsidies, as required) and by positive and negative security assurances.220

Moving up the ladder, the United States may, unfortunately, face very 

difficult challenges in the areas of deterrence, passive and active defense, and 

counterforce. Deterrence may be strengthened because it would be very 

difficult to launch a HAND without attribution in almost all scenarios; but 

deterrence could be undermined because the attack takes place outside U.S. 

territory and does not directly kill anyone so it might not generate support for 

a swift and sure response. Unambiguous declaratory policy statements that 

the United States will respond forcefully to any purposeful interference with 

its space systems might strengthen deterrence but there are a number of 
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specific crosscutting issues associated with this problem such as how best to 

deter attacks on multinational and commercial systems.221 Through 2015, the 

potential for active defense against HAND is extremely limited due to the 

nature of the threat and the defensive technologies available. Active 

defenses would have just a fleeting moment in which to operate because of 

the very limited flight time of a HAND booster (a couple of minutes at most), 

they would somehow have to discriminate between HAND-weapon launches 

and all other launches within this fleeting window, and, to be effective, 

would need to be 100 percent successful since leakage of even one can spell 

the end for all non-hardened LEO satellites. Likewise, the prospects for the 

United States carrying out a preemptive strike on a HAND weapon prior to 

launch are minimal. Not only would the preparations for such a strike 

require breathtakingly prescient intelligence data, but also, and perhaps more 

significantly, carrying out a preemptive strike would require a level of 

political will the United States has seldom displayed in the past. 

Hardening of LEO satellites to withstand HAND-induced radiation 

stands out as one of the least costly and potentially effective means of 

addressing this threat. It is not a panacea but, according to Wilson, 

“[h]ardening of a space system’s elements is the single most effective 

survivability measure.”222 Most military satellites are already hardened 

against nuclear effects so the real issue comes down to hardening civil and 

commercial systems and, even more specifically, how to create incentives or 

requirements for civil satellites to be hardened. As mentioned above, the 

HALEOS study indicates that satellites can be hardened against TREE and 

SGEMP upset for approximately 2-3 percent of program costs above the 

hardening required for natural radiation.223 This is a significant additional 

expense for commercial space businesses, but it is not so large that the 

United States should not consider making it a routine part of the costs of 

doing business in space. United States should carefully consider making 

radiation hardening to this level a requirement to obtain a “Spaceworthiness 

License” and requiring this license for all commercial space components that 

bid in FCC spectrum auctions, apply for export licenses, or compete for 

government business. Deterrence and especially hardening of LEO satellites 

offer the best possibility to mitigate against a nuclear terrorism attack in 

which just one weapon could ruin the global information infrastructure and 

destroy tens of billions of dollars of space systems, yet not take place on U.S. 

soil or kill anyone directly. 

High-Resolution Commercial Remote Sensing 
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High-resolution commercial remote sensing is an evolving, complex 

issue area that requires carefully considered arms control and regulation in 

order to balance several interdependent goals.224 High-resolution commercial 

imagery creates opportunities and risks across a wide range of diplomatic, 

military, economic, and political considerations. Among the largest 

considerations are: how these systems contribute to global transparency and 

the implications of a more transparent world; economic competition and the 

viability of the high-resolution commercial remote sensing industry 

worldwide; competition from other remote sensing providers and the quality, 

timeliness, and types of products offered by space-based systems; the optimal 

mix between commercial and government systems; and mechanisms for 

controlling and regulating this industry. 

Following the end of the Cold War, the United States completely 

reoriented its policy on high-resolution commercial remote sensing away 

from the secret spysat regime crafted by the Eisenhower Administration at 

the opening of the space age. Under the Land Remote Sensing Policy Act of 

1992 and Presidential Decision Directive (PDD)-23 of March 1994, it is now 

the policy of the United States to create incentives to develop a highresolution commercial remote sensing industry. By attempting to dominate 

this market worldwide, the U.S. hopes to preserve its defense industrial base 

and workers trained in this sector, leverage commercial systems for 

government uses, and shape global standards on acceptable use via 

mechanisms such as shutter control. This section explains how the 

provisions of PDD-23 such as shutter control are designed to operate, briefly 

outlines the strategic implications of these systems, and then discusses 

additional control and regulatory mechanisms the United States should 

consider. 

Presidential Decision Directive 23. PDD-23 is designed to balance 

economic considerations with national security concerns. It includes a 

number of specific restrictions on high-resolution commercial imagery 

systems and data. For example, licensees must: 

• Maintain a record of all satellite taskings for the previous year 

and allow the USG access to this record. 

• Refrain from making changes to satellite operational 

characteristics without formal approval from the Department of 

Commerce. 

• Limit data collection and distribution when the Secretaries of 

Defense or State determine that national security, international 

obligations, and/or foreign policy may be compromised. The 

actual decision to limit data will be made only be the Secretary 
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of Commerce in consultation with the Secretaries of Defense and 

State. (This restriction is known as shutter control). 

• Use only USG approved encryption devices for the purpose of 

denying unauthorized access to others during periods when 

national security, international obligations, and/or foreign policy 

may be compromised. The data downlink format must allow 

USG data access during these periods. 

• Notify the USG in advance of intent to enter into significant or 

substantial agreements with new foreign customers. 

In addition, PDD-23 allows for the transfer of “turnkey” advanced 

capability U.S. remote sensing systems on a case-by-case basis, subject to 

significant diplomatic steps that may include a formal government-togovernment agreement. The most stringent restrictions are placed on the sale 

of sensitive components, subsystems, and information on the U.S. Munitions 

List for U.S.-unique remote sensing capabilities. These transfers will be 

made only on the basis of a government-to-government agreement.225

The provisions of PDD-23 are potentially a significant control 

mechanism for limiting the amount of data available to states, groups, and 

individuals with ill intent. However, the old adage that “the devil’s in the 

details” has never been truer than in this case. How the many gray areas 

within PDD-23 are adjudicated and resolved—especially as precedents are 

set with the first test cases—remains to be seen and will largely determine 

the efficacy of the policy in meeting its stated objectives. Some of the most 

obvious gray or potentially divisive areas within PDD-23 include: how 

periods when “national security, international obligations, and/or foreign 

policy may be compromised” will be identified and the specifics of how 

shutter control will be implemented; how “significant or substantial 

agreements with new foreign customers” will be identified and regulated; the 

dynamics and effectiveness of the specific internal mechanisms that are 

created by the Departments of State, Defense, and Commerce; and, perhaps 

most importantly, how the global market will react to all of the above. The 

United States has not yet exercised shutter control. It is likely that critical 

precedents will be set in these and other gray areas within the next few years 

because two separate one-meter resolution systems, SpaceImaging’s Ikonos 2 

and ImageSat’s EROS 1A, are already operational and several other highresolution systems are scheduled for launch soon. 

Strategic Implications of High-Resolution Commercial Imagery. 

Like most dual-use technologies, high-resolution commercial remote sensing 

holds both beneficial and threatening potential. By increasing transparency, 

these systems should help to dampen the security dilemma by illuminating 
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the actual force levels of states and they should also help to increase stability 

by revealing preparations for an attack. Conversely, by pinpointing potential 

targets, such systems may create incentives for preemption—especially by 

states that possess highly accurate, long-range weapons. The utility of 

actually attacking following a planned exercise or during crisis 

demobilization also would seem to be increased. Paradoxically, the amount 

of data available from proliferated commercial imagery systems might 

actually place even greater value on the type of information usually only 

available from human intelligence (HUMINT) sources—the intentions of 

potential adversaries. In addition, this technology can empower non-state 

actors and provide them with information to support a wide variety of goals. 

Two recently released congressionally mandated studies reemphasize the 

implications of high-resolution commercial remote sensing for the 

intelligence community (IC). Many of the findings and recommendations 

from the commissions studying the NRO and NIMA go well beyond those in 

the Air Force’s Commercial Space Opportunities Study (CSOS) by placing a 

great deal of emphasis on commercial imagery and the IC tasking, 

processing, exploitation, and dissemination (TPED) process. According to 

the NRO Commission report, for example, the USG: “could satisfy a 

substantial portion of its national security-related imagery requirements by 

purchasing services from” U.S. firms; it “must” develop a “clear national 

strategy that takes full advantage of the capabilities of the U.S. commercial 

satellite imagery industry;” and it should create a system similar to DOD’s 

industrially funded airlift account to help efficiently focus government 

systems “on targets where their unique capabilities in resolution and revisit 

times are important, while commercial systems would be used to provide 

processed ‘commodity’ images.”226

The NIMA Commission report goes even further. It found the IC to be 

“collection centric,” “that NIMA was not a good, dependable business 

partner,” and recommended creating a “central commercial imagery fund” to 

help mitigate problems resulting from the fact “that national technical means 

(NTM) imagery appears to be ‘free’ to government agencies, while use of 

commercial imagery generally requires a distressingly large expenditure of 

(largely unplanned, unprogrammed) O&M [operation and maintenance] 

funds.”227 The commission recommended that the central commercial 

imagery fund start at about $350 million annually for “raw imagery and 

vendor’s value-added offerings.”228 They expect that this figure will rise 

substantially throughout the FYDP, and were very “distressed by an 

announcement promising $1 billion for commercial imagery purchase, which 

subsequently proved to be so much fiction.”229 The NIMA Commission 

saved its harshest critique for NIMA’s TPED shortcomings. These 
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shortcomings “increasingly strains at the fabric of the NIMA organization as 

a whole” and undermine confidence “that NIMA currently has the system 

engineering experience, acquisition experience, appropriate business 

practices, and performance measures” to acquire a cutting-edge TPED 

system.230 The commission concludes that NIMA’s TPED efforts simply 

cannot “get there from here” and recommends: 

creation of an Extraordinary Program Office (EPO) armed 

with special authorities of the Director of Central 

Intelligence and the Secretary of Defense, augmented by 

Congress, and staffed beyond ceiling and above “cap” 

through an heroic partnership between industry, NIMA, and 

the NRO. The EPO, to be constituted within NIMA from the 

best national talent, shall be charged with and resourced for 

all preacquisition, systems engineering, and acquisition of 

imagery TPED—from end to end, from “national” to 

“tactical.” The first milestone shall be completion of a 

comprehensive, understandable, modern-day “architecture” 

for imagery TPED. Other provisions of law 

notwithstanding, Congress shall empower the Director of the 

EPO to commingle any and all funds duly authorized and 

appropriated for the purpose of the “TPED enterprise,” as 

jointly defined by the Secretary of Defense and the Director 

of Central Intelligence.231

High-Resolution Commercial Imagery and Deception. Digitized data 

streams designed to produce imagery are ideally suited for deception. This is 

because digitized data must always be mathematically processed to create 

images and this processing is subject to manipulation in a variety of ways—

many of which are not available for manipulating film images. As Steven 

Livingston explains: 

 Mathematically altering the value of the pixels alters 

seamlessly the representation. “Since it is purely a 

mathematically process, the source images can be altered 

fundamentally and undetectably before and/or during their 

production.” Elements can be added or subtracted, changed 

in color, brightness, or contrast. Changes are made not by 

altering the computer code that produces the image, and not 

in the image itself as in analog manipulation. In fact, it is 

more accurate perhaps to say that no image exists beyond the 
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mathematical equations that create a particular array of 

pixels. The equations are the image. Therefore as computer 

processors become faster and more powerful, so too does the 

ability to alter digital information.232

The phrase “altered fundamentally and undetectably” is absolutely loaded 

with implications. For starters, it means that virtually anything can be added, 

subtracted, or changed in digital imagery (or to any digital information) and 

that even experts cannot necessarily detect these changes. The possibilities 

for deception through manipulating digital imagery are literally unlimited. 

Perhaps even more alarmingly, all of this can happen in real time as the data 

stream is converted into manipulated imagery. It is no wonder that the 

digital age creates a number of legal conundrums and that the veracity of 

digitized information is increasingly being questioned in courtrooms.233 At 

the very least, as No More Secrets summarizes, “[c]ommercially available 

high-resolution satellite imagery will trigger the development of more robust 

denial and deception and antisatellite countermeasures.”234 Given this 

potential for deception, the U.S. Government and the news media should 

adopt a “dual phenomenology” requirement as a way to attempt to confirm 

the veracity of digitized imagery. 

Control of High-Resolution Commercial Imagery. There are clearly a 

number of complex interdependencies that have and will continue to shape 

the global high-resolution commercial remote sensing market. The United 

States should continue to study and evaluate the evolution of this market to 

ensure that its policy objectives are being met. Regulatory mechanisms such 

as shutter control that the United States has put in place appear to provide an 

equitable balance between economic considerations and national security 

concerns. These mechanisms should also be self-regulating to a large degree. 

If the United States overuses shutter control it may drive potential customers 

to foreign imagery providers; but such a control is required before the United 

States should create incentives for its high-resolution commercial remote 

sensing industry to dominate the global market. This area also offers the 

potential for novel means of control and exploitation. The requirement for 

imagery providers to use only USG approved encryption devices that allow 

USG access during periods of shutter control, especially when coupled with 

the potential to use digital data for deception, certainly presents some 

interesting possibilities for control and exploitation by leaving systems 

operating rather than shutting them off. 

Finally, the United States should carefully and continuously reevaluate 

whether the benefits that PDD-23 is designed to create such as greater 

transparency and market preeminence do, in practice, actually outweigh the 
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costs such as the use of this data for nefarious ends. So far, the United States 

has attempted to shape the world market via mostly economic benefits rather 

than security considerations. It should rebalance that equation toward 

national security, perhaps by formal arms control restrictions on highresolution commercial remote sensing, if the benefits do not outweigh the 

costs. If it becomes prudent to move in this direction, there are a number of 

unilateral and multilateral regulation and control options that the United 

States could pursue.235

In the latest developments in this area, during the campaign against 

terrorism in Afghanistan thus far, NIMA has established de facto shutter 

control by signing an “agreement of assured access” with the Space Imaging 

Corporation, reportedly for $1.9 million per month. Under the terms of this 

renewed agreement, Space Imaging is not to sell or share its Afghanistan 

theater imagery with anyone except the USG until after 5 January 2002, and 

the contract may be extended beyond that date.236 This agreement opens 

many interesting issues related to the utility of limiting information 

dissemination for public diplomacy, the media, and exploitation of enemy 

information channels. It also raises the issue of whether this agreement using 

market mechanisms has set a precedent that might well make it more difficult 

to invoke formal shutter control in the future. 

Global Utilities 

Because of all the growth in space systems and the services they provide 

some analysts believe they should now be considered in a new way as global 

utilities that provide an essential foundation that enables the global 

information infrastructure. In some ways, the concept of global utilities is 

just another recognition of how much the commercial space sector has grown 

and how important it has become; but it is also clear that the global 

information infrastructure as it currently exists simply could not function 

without space systems and the services they provide. This section attempts 

to define what global utilities are and then discusses arms control and 

regulatory mechanisms that might help to protect and enhance these essential 

services. 

Global utilities have been defined as: “Civil, military, or commercial 

systems—some or all of which are based in space—that provide 

communication, environmental, position, image, location, timing, or other 

vital technical services or data to global users.”237 To date, all space-based 

global utilities provide information services but they are analogous to Earthbound utility services that provide a foundation for modern life such as water 

and electricity. And like these Earth-bound utility services, space-based 
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global utilities may be subject to regulation and control at the local, state, 

national, and international levels. Two relatively minor recent failures 

illustrate just how embedded global utilities have become in the global 

information infrastructure. In 1996, a controller at the Air Force GPS control 

center accidentally put the wrong time into just one of the 24 satellites and 

this erroneous signal was broadcast for just six seconds before automatic 

systems turned the signal off. That momentary error caused more than 100 

of the 800 cellular telephone networks on the U.S. East Coast to shut down 

and some took hours or even days to recover.238 In May 1998, “40-45 

million pager subscribers lost service; some ATM and credit card machines 

could not process transactions; news bureaus could not transmit information; 

and many areas lost television service—all because of the loss of one

satellite.”239 Clearly, space systems have become an increasingly important 

part of the global information infrastructure but questions remain about how 

they should be regulated and protected. 

How global utilities should be controlled and regulated is a complex 

issue that depends on a number of factors such as the specific systems in 

question, the services they provide, and the primary users. As discussed 

above, comsats are already subject to significant control and regulation at the 

international level through the ITU and in the United States through the FCC. 

This high level of regulation for comsats is justified both because of the 

threat of harmful interference in the radio spectrum and due to the lucrative 

nature these services. Other areas within the commercial space sector that 

have yet to demonstrate much profitability such as high-resolution remote 

sensing are also subject to regulation and control but it is generally at a lower 

level. The United States provides other global utility services such as 

meteorological data and GPS timing signals free to all users worldwide as a 

public good. Given the current range of existing regulation and control for 

global utility services, it is not clear what national security or economic 

objectives would be served by attempting to regulate these services in the 

same or even similar ways. 

In addition, the United States should consider how global utilities might 

best be protected and fostered as an enabling technology within the global 

information infrastructure. Unfortunately, no clear or easy answers stand out 

and there is a wide range of views on the best path forward. Despite the 

many threats detailed above, to date there has been almost “no demand from 

the operators of commercial communications satellites for defense of their 

multibillion dollar assets.”240 The current lack of support from industry for 

protection of global utilities is particularly disappointing to USSPACECOM 

because during the late 1990s they had attempted to advance the argument 

that such protection was needed and would be demanded as space 
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commercialization grew.241 Some analysts believe that a multilateral 

approach to protection for global utilities would be best and argue that this 

function should be performed by an international organization such as the 

UN. This approach would likely, however, be filled with all the political, 

economic, and technical difficulties that have plagued almost all international 

space efforts. The rocky path of the International Space Station certainly 

does not inspire confidence in this approach to providing protection for 

global utilities. At the opposite end of the spectrum are those who advocate 

that the U.S. military, and the Air Force in particular, should take on the 

global utility protection mission regardless of international opposition or a 

lack of support from industry. On top of the political opposition to this 

approach, creating a viable defense for global utilities also faces daunting 

economic and especially technical challenges such as those discussed in the 

HAND section above. Based on the technologies currently being examined, 

only a robust space-based system would stand much chance of providing an 

effective defense against the most threatening attacks on global utilities.242

Spectrum Crowding, Orbital Debris, and Space Traffic Control 

The final contentious area examined in this essay is related to the 

cumulative effects of greater use of space. Current and projected use of 

space is creating challenges particularly in the areas of crowding of the radio 

spectrum for space, orbital debris, and the possible need for space traffic 

control. This section discusses these issues and outlines some potential 

control and regulation mechanism that might help to address them. 

As discussed above, the recent growth in commercial space activity has 

exacerbated crowding of the radio spectrum for space applications and there 

are currently significant pressures on portions of the spectrum now allocated 

to military uses. In particular, today there is a great deal of pressure to move 

DOD out of the 1755 to 1850 MHz band in order to auction it off for 3G 

applications. It is not clear, however, that U.S. national security or even 

economic interests would benefit from moving DOD out of this band. As the 

GAO report on this issue makes clear, more study is required and, in 

particular, the issue must be carefully reconsidered in light of the radically 

reduced bandwidth requirements that will undoubtedly accompany the 

economic recession the global economy seems to be entering. More 

generally, the increasing pressure on the radio spectrum due to more 

commercial use of space has been somewhat balanced by the use of new 

technologies and different orbits that lessen the effects of increased use. For 

example, modern satellites in GSO have only two degrees of spacing 

between them (versus three or more degrees in the past) for most systems 
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providing fixed satellite services. Likewise, increasing use of NGSO for 

comsat networks has decreased the pressure on overcrowding the GSO in 

terms of spectrum and spacing. In sum, then, current trends for the space 

radio spectrum do not augur major changes in the current regulatory 

structure. Moving the ITU to auctions for its coordination/registration 

process would undoubtedly produce greater efficiency and generate income 

but these benefits would need to be weighed against the equal access 

concerns of the developing world and fact that there currently seems to be 

little support for moving in this direction. 

Orbital debris may represent the single most potentially useful window 

of opportunity for cooperative space arms control and regulation for the 

United States and the global spacefaring community through 2015.243 NASA 

defines “orbital debris” as “any man-made object in orbit about the Earth 

which no longer serves a useful purpose.”244 Human space activity has 

generated a lot of debris: there are over 9,000 objects larger than 10 

centimeters (cm) and an estimated 100,000-plus objects between 1-10 cm in 

size.245 The largest single source of this debris has been intentional and 

unintentional satellite explosions on-orbit.246 Orbital debris generally moves 

at very high speeds relative to operational satellites and thereby poses a risk 

to these systems due to its enormous kinetic energy.247 Only three collisions 

between operational systems and orbital debris are known to have occurred 

thus far but concerns about this hazard are growing due to the increasing 

number of operational space systems and the five percent growth rate in LEO 

orbital debris each year.248 There is even concern about the potential for 

orbital debris “chain reactions” due to collisions in big-LEO comsat 

constellations or due to the debris clouds that could be created by use of 

kinetic energy ASATs in LEO. 

Since the 1980s, the United States has led the world in publicizing the 

risks due to orbital debris and it has made programs to mitigate debris an 

increasingly important part of its overall space policy.249 There is, however, 

undoubtedly more the United States could do on the orbital debris front. The 

United States should explore several options such as unilaterally pledging not 

to create space debris through testing or operations of any ASAT system, 

creating strict unilateral regulations that mandate debris mitigation for U.S. 

commercial space operators (perhaps as part of the “Spaceworthiness 

License” discussed in the HAND section above), multilateral efforts to 

“clean up” debris using lasers and other techniques, and creating strict 

multilateral regulations for debris mitigation. These and other creative 

approaches should be explored vigorously in order to ensure that man’s 

increasing use of space does not impose unacceptable risks on this activity. 
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Finally, due again to the increasing use of space, the United States must 

consider the need for and implications of space traffic control systems 

(STCS) that could be analogous to current air traffic control systems. The 

idea for such a system is obviously related to the orbital debris problem 

discussed above but it goes well beyond just this problem to include a wide 

range of factors such as: how space traffic might coordinate and be approved 

for specific orbital positions, how space traffic would be located and tracked, 

sanctions and liability for noncompliance and collisions under a space traffic 

control system, and how such a regime might be established and funded. As 

with many space-related issues, the technology to at least begin 

implementing such a system appears to be closer at hand than is the political 

will to begin down this path. For example, the Ballistic Missile Defense 

Organization’s Midcourse Space Experiment (MSX) satellite launched in 

April 1996 is the only operational space-based surveillance instrument. It 

has found some “150 objects in the last three years that were completely lost” 

and demonstrated the potential value of space-based sensors to a STCS.250 

Likewise, GPS positioning signals could be used to very accurately locate 

many space systems and a transponder-like system aboard space systems 

could automatically provide this data in response to queries from the 

STCS.251 On the political side of the equation, however, the United States 

must consider very carefully how its objectives in space might benefit or be 

harmed via the creation and operation of a STCS. It is not obvious that an air 

traffic control model is the appropriate regime for space, or that the political 

and financial costs of creating and operating such a system (many of which 

would likely be borne by the United States) would be outweighed by its 

benefits. Most of the benefits would seem to be in the commercial and civil 

space sectors while the potential drawbacks might be most severe for the 

military and intelligence sectors. The United States most likely would not, 

for example, want the ephemeris on its military and intelligence-gathering 

satellites to be pre-approved and available worldwide through a STCS. At 

the very least, since a STCS could be such a powerful tool for denial, 

deception, and even targeting, the United States must think through very 

carefully exactly what type of control regime would be most appropriate for 

space and how such a regime would operate in practice. 

CONCLUSION 

This essay discussed the five most important precedents in space-related 

arms control and regulation: the spysat overflight regime, the comsat 

regulatory regime, the OST regime, the ABMT regime and space-based 

defenses, and ASAT developments and ASAT arms control. It also outlined 
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the space-related parts of START I and II, the most recent arms control 

treaties. These regimes evolved in complex and interdependent ways but 

three major themes stand out. First, as illustrated by the major evolution in 

most of the regimes and the radical reordering of U.S. policy for commercial 

spysats and comsats, space is seldom a stand-alone policy consideration. 

More often, the United States has viewed space as a means to another, more 

important end and it has reordered its space policy accordingly. Second, 

these precedents illustrate the truisms that “arms are always controlled in a 

democracy” and “arms control works best when it’s needed least.” The 

United States has usually led the world into regimes that have emphasized 

the benign and peaceful uses of space. Likewise, the superpowers were best 

able to cooperate on arms control for space in areas where they had no major 

military designs such as in the OST. In areas of greater disagreement such as 

over missile defenses and ASATs, the superpowers could not reach formal 

agreement but only limited action-reaction arms race cycles developed due, 

at least in part, to the restraint shown by the democratic United States. 

Finally, the complexity of these regimes, their radical reordering over time, 

and the failure to reach many formal agreements all highlight a number of 

extreme difficulties for space-related arms control. It is instructive that the 

Defense and Space Talks were the only area of superpower strategic arms 

control negotiations during the 1980s and 1990s without an agreement. This 

situation is not likely to change rapidly in the post-Cold War era and is a 

caution to those who may believe it would be quick and easy to negotiate 

major space-related arms control agreements in the near future. 

Finally, this essay builds on the space-related arms control and regulation 

precedents to discuss five space-related areas that contain significant conflict 

today and are likely to remain contentious into the future: space 

weaponization; high-altitude nuclear detonations; high-resolution 

commercial remote sensing; global utilities; and spectrum crowding, orbital 

debris, and space traffic control. The development of at least four entrenched 

camps within the United States—space hawks, inevitable weaponizers, 

militarization realists, and space doves—indicates that it would be difficult 

for the United States to advance major arms control initiatives on space 

weaponization for the foreseeable future. Likewise, the United States either 

faces daunting political and technical challenges or would simply be wise to 

take a measured approach to arms control or regulation for a number of 

related issues such as high-resolution commercial remote sensing, global 

utilities, spectrum crowding, and space traffic control. Opportunities for 

arms control and regulation in these areas should be studied very carefully, 

balanced evenly in terms of their costs and benefits for the four space sectors, 

and weighed against both their opportunity costs and likely unintended 
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consequences. The best near-term opportunity for space-related arms control 

and regulation may be the “spaceworthiness license” that was described as a 

way to create incentives for the commercial sector to harden satellites against 

nuclear effects and to minimize orbital debris. 

NOTES 

 

1

 The Futron Corporation, in partnership with the Satellite Industry Association and 

George Washington University’s Space Policy Institute, recently completed the most 

accurate and comprehensive annual analysis of commercial space activities based on 

their proprietary database. Total commercial space revenues were estimated to be $5 

billion in 1992, then grew to $44.8 billion by 1996, reached $65.9 billion in 1998, 

and were estimated to be over $80 billion in 2000. They are forecast to reach $240 

billion by 2010. For estimates on commercial space revenues see Vice President’s 

Space Policy Advisory Board Task Group Report, “The Future of the U.S. Space 

Industrial Base,” (Washington, D.C.: Vice President’s Space Policy Advisory Board 

Task Group, November 1992), 11; The Futron Corporation, Satellite Industry Guide

(Bethesda, Md.: Futron Corporation, October 1999); and Report of the Commission 

to Assess National Security Space Management and Organization (Washington, 

D.C.: Commission to Assess National Security Space Management and 

Organization, 11 January 2001), 11 (hereinafter Space Commission Report). For 

comparison, on 31 July 2001 the Acting Assistant Secretary of Defense for 

Command, Control, Communications, and Intelligence testified before Congress that 

the more than 120 satellites DOD controls using the 1755-1850 MHz band represent 

a cumulative investment of about $100 billion. United States General Accounting 

Office, “Defense Spectrum Management: More Analysis Needed to Support 

Spectrum Use Decisions for the 1755-1850 MHz Band,” (Washington, D.C.: General 

Accounting Office, August 2001), 17. 

2

 The NRO at the Crossroads (Washington, D.C.: National Commission for the 

review of the National Reconnaissance Office, 1 November 2000). The Information 

Edge: Imagery Intelligence and Geospatial Information in an Evolving National 

Security Environment (Washington, D.C.: Independent Commission on the National 

Imagery and Mapping Agency, December 2000). Space Commission Report. All 

three reports are available on-line at http://www.space.gov. In addition, under 

National Security Presidential Directive (NSPD)-5, President Bush ordered a 

comprehensive review of U.S. intelligence capabilities to be conducted by both 

internal and external panels that was originally scheduled to be completed by the end 

of summer 2001. See Vernon Loeb, “U.S. Intelligence Efforts to Get Major 

Review,” Washington Post, 12 May 2001, 3; and Walter Pincus, “Intelligence 

Shakeup Would Boost CIA,” Washington Post, 8 November 2001, 1. 

The most important previous groups and their key space policy 

recommendations include: the 1954-55 Technological Capabilities Panel (TCP) 

(establish the legality of overflight and develop spy satellites); the President’s 

Science Advisory Committee (PSAC) led by Science Advisor James Killian in 1958 

(create the National Aeronautics and Space Administration [NASA]); the SAMOS 
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Panel led by Science Advisor George Kistiakowsky in 1960 (create the NRO); the 

review led by Vice President Lyndon Johnson in April 1961 (race the Soviets to the 

Moon for prestige); Vice President Spiro Agnew’s 1969 Space Task Group (establish 

NASA’s post-Apollo goals); the U.S. Air Force’s (USAF) 1988 Blue Ribbon Panel 

led by Maj Gen Robert Todd (integrate spacepower into combat operations); 

NASA’s 1991 Augustine Commission (emphasize scientific exploration over shuttle 

operations); and the USAF’s 1992 Blue Ribbon Panel led by Lt Gen Thomas 

Moorman (emphasize space support to the warfighter, establish the Space Warfare 

Center). 

The Space Commission Report is the broadest-ranging and most important 

product of the three commissions in 2000. The Space Commission was chaired by 

Donald Rumsfeld and included 12 other members with a broad-range of very highlevel military space expertise. They are (listed with the top “space” job they 

formerly held): Duane Andrews (Deputy Undersecretary of Defense for Command, 

Control, Communications, and Intelligence); Robert Davis (Undersecretary of 

Defense for Space); Howell Estes (Commander, U.S. Space Command); Ronald 

Fogleman (Air Force Chief of Staff); Jay Garner (Commander, Army Space and 

Strategic Defense Command); William Graham (President’s Science Advisor); 

Charles Horner (Commander, U.S. Space Command); David Jeremiah (Vice 

Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff); Thomas Moorman (Air Force Vice Chief of 

Staff); Douglass Necessary (House Armed Services Committee staff); Glenn Otis 

(Commander, Army Training and Doctrine Command); and Malcolm Wallop 

(Senator). See John A. Tirpak, “The Fight for Space,” Air Force Magazine 83 

(August 2000): 61. 

The legislation authorizing the commission was clearly action-oriented and 

spelled out its duties as follows: “The Commission shall, concerning changes to be 

implemented over the near-term, medium-term, and long-term that would strengthen 

United States national security, assess the following: (1) the manner in which 

military space assets may be exploited to provide support for United States military 

operations. (2) The current interagency coordination process regarding the operation 

of national security space assets, including identification of interoperability and 

communications issues. (3) The relationship between the intelligence and 

nonintelligence aspects of national security space (so-called “white space” and 

“black space”), and the potential costs and benefits of a partial or complete merger of 

the programs, projects, or activities that are differentiated by those two aspects. (4) 

The manner in which military space issues are addressed by professional military 

education institutions. (5) The potential costs and benefits of establishing any of the 

following: (A) An independent military department and service dedicated to the 

national security space mission. (B) A corps within the Air Force dedicated to the 

national security space mission. (C) A position of Assistant Secretary of Defense for 

Space within the Office of the Secretary of Defense. (D) A new major force 

program, or other budget mechanism, for managing national security space funding 

within the Department of Defense. (E) Any other change to the existing 
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organizational structure of the Department of Defense for national security space 

management and organization.” 

See sec. 1622 of National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2000

(Public Law 106-65; 113 Statute 814; 10 US Code 111 note). 

In October 2000, Congress added an amendment directing the commission to 

study 

(6) the advisability of— 

various actions to eliminate the de facto requirement that specified officers 

in the United States Space Command be flight rated that results from the 

dual assignment of officers to that command and to one or more other 

commands in positions in which officers are expressly required to be flight 

rated; 

the establishment of a requirement that, as a condition of the assignment of 

a general or flag officer to the United States Space Command, the officer 

have experience in space, missile, or information operations that was gained 

through either acquisition or operational experience; and 

rotating the command of the United States Space Command among the 

Armed Forces. 

See sec. 1091, Additional Duties for Commission to Assess United States 

National Security Space Management and Organization; sec. 1622(a) of the National 

Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2000 (Public Law 106-65; 113 Statute 

814; 10 US Code 111 note). 

The key recommendations of the Space Commission Report called for: raising 

the priority of national security space to a vital national interest; creating a 

Presidential Space Advisory Group; instituting closer and more regular coordination 

between the Secretary of Defense and the Director of Central Intelligence; creating 

an Under Secretary of Defense for Space, Intelligence, and Information; creating a 

new four-star billet for the Commander of Air Force Space Command that is separate 

from the Commander in Chief of U.S. Space Command and the North American 

Aerospace Defense Command; designating the Air Force as the Executive Agent for 

space within the department of Defense (DOD) and amending Title 10 of the United 

States Code to assign the Air Force responsibility to organize, train, and equip for 

prompt and sustained offensive and defensive air and space operations; assigning the 

Undersecretary of the Air Force as the Director of the National Reconnaissance 

Office and the Acquisition Executive for space; and establishing a Major Force 

Program to consolidate the space budget. (Space Commission Report, xxxi-xxxv). 

Not surprisingly, Secretary Rumsfeld recently accepted nearly all of these 

recommendations in his required assessment of the Space Commission Report for 

Congress. The only major change was that he did not request legislation to establish 

an Under Secretary of Defense for Space, Intelligence, and Information. See Donald 

H. Rumsfeld, letter to Honorable John Warner, Chairman, Committee on Armed 

Services, United States Senate, 8 May 2001; Donald H. Rumsfeld, National Security 

Space Management and Organization Memorandum, Office of the Secretary of 

Defense, 18 October 2001; and Lt Col Peter Hays and Dr. Karl Mueller, “Going 
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Boldly—Where? Aerospace Integration, the Space Commission, and the Air Force’s 

Vision for Space,” Aerospace Power Journal 15, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 34-49. 3

 Contrast, for example, the “sympathetic exploration of arms control” by Thomas C. 

Schelling and Morton H. Halperin in Strategy and Arms Control (New York: 

Twentieth Century Fund, 1961), 1; with the opposite perspective from Colin S. Gray, 

“the error is to believe that an arms control process can contribute usefully to the 

prevention of war.” See Gray, Modern Strategy (Oxford University Press, 1999), 

194; or his House of Cards: Why Arms Control Must Fail (Ithaca: Cornell University 

Press, 1992). 

4

 These three objectives for arms control were first laid out in 1961 by Schelling and 

Halperin in Strategy and Arms Control, 2. 5

 Table 3 is a combined and expanded version of four tables which appear in Dana J. 

Johnson, “The Impact of International Law and Treaty Obligations on United States 

Military Activities in Space,” High Technology Law Journal 3 no. 33 (1987), 73-80. 

It is adapted from Lt Col Thomas W. Billick, “Arms Control Implications for 

Military Operations in Space,” Research Report for the USAF Institute for National 

Security Studies, (USAF Academy, CO, May 2001), 31-33. 

6

 Distinctions can be drawn between the role of satellites in performing 

reconnaissance (periodic close focus on specific targets) and surveillance (more 

constant but less detailed examination of wider areas) as well as between 

photoreconnaissance, signals intelligence (SIGINT), radar imaging, infrared 

imaging, measurement and signature intelligence (MASINT), and other types of 

space-based intelligence gathering. These distinctions are critical for development 

and operational considerations but, to date, they have been less important in relation 

to the legal regime that legitimizes these activities. This essay does not delve into 

the distinctions and uses spysat as shorthand to describe all space-based intelligence 

gathering missions and systems. 

7

 Gerald M. Steinberg, “Dual Use Aspects of Commercial High-Resolution Imaging 

Satellites,” Security and Policy Studies No. 37, (Bar-Ilan University, Israel: BeginSadat Center for Strategic Studies, February 1998), 4. Available on-line at 

http://www.biu.ac.il/Besa/books/37pub.html. 

8

 The best and most comprehensive analysis of the complex maneuvering by the 

superpowers at the opening of the space age is Walter A. McDougall’s Pulitzer 

Prize-winning . . . the Heavens and the Earth: A Political History of the Space Age

(New York: Basic Books, 1985). NSC-5520 was signed on 20 May 1955 and is 

reprinted in John M. Logsdon, ed. Exploring the Unknown: Selected Documents in 

the History of the U.S. Civil Space Program, Vol. I, Organizing for Exploration 

(Washington, D.C.: NASA History Office, 1995), 308-313. McDougall in Heavens 

and Earth and R. Cargill Hall’s introductory essay, “Origins of U.S. Space Policy: 

Eisenhower, Open Skies, and Freedom of Space,” in Exploring the Unknown do an 

excellent job in developing the context and purposes for which NSC-5520 was 

developed. 

9

 Hall uses the term stalking horse to describe the purpose of the IGY satellite in 

relation to the WS-117L (America’s first spysat program). For the most complete 
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analysis of the IGY program see Rip Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis and Early United 

States Space Policy: A Critique of the Historiography of Space (Bloomington: 

Indiana University Press, 1991). 

10 A civilian-directed office within the Air Force that reported directly to the 

Secretary of Defense was established in late August 1960. Secretary Robert S. 

McNamara formally established this office as the NRO on 6 September 1961. In 

Executive Order 12951 of 22 February 1995 President William J. Clinton authorized 

the public release of historical intelligence imagery from the Corona (KH-1 through 

KH-4B), Argon (KH-5), and Lanyard (KH-6) programs. KH is short for keyhole and 

refers to the camera system carried aboard these first two generations of U.S. 

imagery spysats that were operational between 1960 and 1972. See R. Cargill Hall, 

“The National Reconnaissance Office: A Brief History of its Creation and 

Evolution,” SPACE TIMES (March-April 1999): 13-15; and Kevin C. Ruffner, ed. 

Corona: America’s First Satellite Program (Washington, D.C.: History Staff, Center 

for the Study of Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency, 1995). 

11 McDougall, 180-189. The ad hoc Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space 

traces its lineage to a Soviet proposal at the UN on 15 March 1958. The permanent 

COPUOS was established in December 1959. 

12 The Vela Hotel program was initiated in 1959. In November 1961, the Air Force 

selected TRW as the prime contractor to build ten satellites. The first launch was in 

October 1963 (immediately after the LTBT entered into force) and the system first 

detected a nuclear detonation from space on 17 October 1963. Beginning in the 

1970s, Vela Hotel satellites were deactivated as the Integrated Operational Nuclear 

Detection System (IONDS) became operational on Global Positioning System (GPS) 

Satellites. But the Vela Hotel system may have reached its greatest prominence on 

22 September 1979 when it detected a double flash in the South Atlantic, prompting 

speculation centered on the possibility of a South African or Israeli nuclear test 

detonation. President Jimmy Carter convened a panel of scientific experts to conduct 

a thorough technical review of all available data. The panel concluded that, although 

it could not rule out the possibility that the signal was of nuclear origin, it was more 

likely the consequence of the impact of a small meteoroid on the satellite. Other 

U.S. government agencies investigating the event—including the Defense 

Intelligence Agency (DIA), the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and the Naval 

Research Laboratory—concluded that a nuclear blast had occurred. See Digital 

National Security Archive, South Africa: The Making of U.S. Policy, 1962-1989, online, Internet, 18 August 2001, available at http://192.195.245.32/saintro.htm; Space 

Firsts, on-line, Internet, 18 August 2001, available at 

afa.org/magazine/space/spacefirsts.html; David N. Spires, Beyond Horizons: A Half

Century of Air Force Space Leadership (Peterson AFB, CO: Air Force Space 

Command, 1997), 153-54; and Curtis Peebles, High Frontier: The United States Air 

Force and the Military Space Program (Washington, D.C.: Air Force History and 

Museums Program, 1997), 41-44. 

13 The evolution of the U.S.-U.S.S.R. modus vivendi on spysats is described in 

Gerald M. Steinberg Satellite Reconnaissance: The Role of Informal Bargaining
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(New York: Praeger, 1983) and John Lewis Gaddis, “The Evolution of a 

Reconnaissance Satellite Regime,” in George Farley Dallin, ed., US-Soviet Security 

Cooperation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 353-363. In June 1962, 

the Soviets submitted to the COPUOS a Draft Declaration of Basic Principles 

Governing the Use of Outer Space which declared that “use of artificial satellites for 

the collection of intelligence information in the territory of foreign states is 

incompatible with the objectives of mankind in its conquest of outer space.” The 

official United States response was issued in December 1962: “It is the view of the 

United States that Outer Space should be used for peaceful—that is, non-aggressive 

and beneficial—purposes. The question of military activities in space cannot be 

divorced from the question of military activities on Earth. There is, in any event, no 

workable dividing line between military and non-military uses of space. One of the 

consequences of these factors is that any nation may use space satellites for such 

purposes as observation and information gathering. Observation from space is 

consistent with international law, just as observation from the high seas.” Cited in 

Paul B. Stares, The Militarization of Space: U.S. Policy, 1945-1984 (Ithaca: Cornell 

University Press, 1985), 69-71. 

14 See, for example, Robert Joseph DeSutter, Jr., “Arms Control Verification: 

‘Bridge’ Theories and the Politics of Expediency,” Ph.D. diss. University of 

Southern California, April 1983. 

15 U.S. Arms Control Treaties are available on-line at 

http://www.state.gov/www/global/arms/bureau_ac/treaties_ac.html. 16 Arms Control and Disarmament Agreements: Text and Histories of Negotiations

(Washington, D.C. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, 1982), 141. 

17 McDougall, 355. 

18 George A. Codding, Jr., The Future of Satellite Communications (Boulder: 

Westview Press, 1990), 38-39. 

19 Quoted in Jonathan F. Galloway, The Politics and Technology of Satellite 

Communications (Lexington: Lexington Books, 1972), 26. 20 The ITU is a specialized agency of the United Nations and is the world’s largest 

and oldest continuously operating international regulatory agency. Its basic present 

structure under the UN was established at the Atlantic City Conference in 1947 but 

its lineage can be traced back to the International Telegraph Union established in 

1865. ITU membership is open to all states (there are 189 member states as of 

September 2001), only states can be full members, but organizations and 

corporations can now join as sector members and associate members. It is charged 

with harmonizing and regulating all international telecommunications. The standard 

work on the establishment of the ITU is George A. Codding, Jr., The International 

Telecommunications Union: An Experiment in International Cooperation (New 

York: Arno Press, 1972). 

21 Between the signing of the Interim Agreement in August 1964 and the initiation of 

negotiations on the Definitive Agreement in February 1969, 92 percent of the $350.5 

million INTELSAT spent on its space segment went to U.S. contractors. Galloway, 

156. 
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 22 The Definitive Agreement established a governing structure with four major 

components within INTELSAT. The Assembly of Parties was comprised of member 

states and met every two years to discuss overall policy. The Meeting of Signatories 

was composed of states or their designated representatives (e.g. COMSAT) and met 

once a year to consider recommendations from the Board of Governors. The Board 

of Governors consisted of one governor from each state or group of states with more 

than the minimum investment share in INTELSAT or which represent ITU regions 

that would not otherwise be represented. INTELSAT’s day to day responsibilities 

for administrative, financial, and legal matters was handled by the Secretary-General 

and by the Management Service Contractor (COMSAT until 1979) for technical and 

operational issues. Codding, 41-66. 

23 Under the Definitive Agreement, INTELSAT was to review applications for 

separate systems based on three criteria: 1) “technical compatibility” with 

INTELSAT’s use of radio frequencies and orbital slots; 2) whether the proposed 

system would cause “significant economic harm” to INTELSAT; and 3) whether the 

proposed system would “prejudice the establishment of direct telecommunication 

links through the INTELSAT space segment among all parties.” Codding, 41. 

24 A number of regional competitors to INTELSAT did emerge during the 1970s. 

The most significant of these systems include: ARABSAT, established in 1976; the 

European Telecommunications Satellite Organization (EUTELSAT) begun in 1977; 

the Indonesian Palapa system that was first operational in 1976; and the largest of 

these competing systems, the International Maritime Satellite System (INMARSAT) 

initiated in 1979. 

25 Quoted in Andrea Kavanaugh, “Star WARCs and New Systems,” 

Telecommunications Policy (June 1986): 94. 26 Milton Mueller, “INTELSAT and the Separate System Policy: Toward 

Competitive International Telecommunications,” Policy Analysis Number 150 

(Washington, D.C. The CATO Institute, 21 March 1991), on-line, Internet, 20 

August 2001, available from http://www.cato.org/pubs/pas/pa-150.html. See also 

Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, “Reform of International 

Satellite Organizations,” (Paris: OECD, 1996), on-line, Internet, 20 August 2001, 

available from http://www.oecd.org/daf/clp/roundtables/SATS.PDF. 27 The first transatlantic fiber optic cable (TAT-8) became operational in 1988. Since 

then, the capacity of each fiber optic cable has increased dramatically. TAT-8 can 

carry 280 megabits of data per second (Mbps); TAT-14 is scheduled to become 

operational by the end of 2001 and will carry 160 gigabits per second (Gbps). The 

cost per circuit equivalent for cables has dropped from $90 million in 1988 to 

approximately $2 million in 2000. This helps to explain why fiber’s share of global 

transoceanic telephony grew from 2 percent in 1988 to over 80 percent by 2000. 

Moreover, because new fiber technologies such as optical switching and dense 

wavelength division multiplexing (DWDM) are slated to be in widespread use by the 

end of 2002 and are designed to double (at least) the capacity of each fiber strand, 

even next generation wireless broadband such as Hughes’ Spaceway system may 

continue to have a very hard time competing with fiber for any fixed, point-to-point 
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telecommunication service. DWDM uses different wavelengths of laser light within 

each strand of fiber. The capacity of one strand of fiber using DWDM is 1000 Gbps. 

The Hughes Network Systems Spaceway wireless broadband (Ka-band) system is 

scheduled to begin operation over North America in 2002 using two Boeing 702 

comsats in geostationary orbit (GSO) and have a capacity of 10 Gbps. The satcom 

versus fiber tradeoff is just one of the many complex issues that will shape the future 

of wireless broadband and the role of space systems within these markets. At 

present, however, it is not clear that large-scale “Internet-in-the-sky” systems such as 

Teledesic can be developed cheaply, quickly, and flexibly enough to compete 

effectively with terrestrial alternatives for most applications. See, for example, Mel 

Mandell, “120,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” IEEE Spectrum (April 2000): 50; 

“International Cable Protection Committee: Atlantic Region, In Service Cables,” online, Internet, 21 August 2001, available at http://www.iscpc.org/; “Comments of 

INTELSAT Before the National Telecommunications and Information 

Administration,” 8 May 2000, on-line, Internet, 20 August 2001, available from 

http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/occ/oecd2000/intelsat/intelsat.htm; and 

“Teledesic Set to Choose Prime Contractor for Internet-in-the-Sky,” on-line, 

Internet, 22 August 2001, available from http://www.spacedaily.com/news/teledesic01a.html. 

28 Open-Market Reorganization for the Betterment of International 

Telecommunications (ORBIT) Act, Public Law 106-180, 17 March 2000. See Bill 

Summary & Status available from http://thomas.loc.gov/cgibin/bdquery/z?d106:SN00376:@@@D&summ2=m&. 

29 INTELSAT’s press release on its privatization is located at 

http://www.intelsat.int/news/press/2001-15e.asp. 

30 The ITU’s present permanent structure consists of Plenipotentiary Conferences, 

the Secretary-General, the Radiocommunication Bureau, the Telecommunication 

Standardization Bureau, and the Telecommunication Development Bureau. See “ITU 

Structure” at http://www.itu.int/aboutitu/structure/index.html. The last WRC was 

held in Istanbul, Turkey from 8 May to 2 June 2000; the next WRC is scheduled for 

2003. 

31 The Allotment Plan moved the ITU away from its traditional “first come-first 

served” approach to a regulatory regime designed to balance equitable access with 

economic efficiency. In theory, it reserves at least one frequency position in GSO 

for each state in the ITU. See, for example, Milton L. Smith, International 

Regulation of Satellite Communication (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 

1990). 

32 Other major USG agencies also involved in comsat regulation include the 

Departments of State, Commerce, and Transportation (DOS, DOC, and DOT). State 

coordinates with DOC to grant export licenses for U.S. built comsats using foreign 

launch vehicles. DOT through the Federal Aviation Administration regulates 

domestic commercial launches. In addition, the White House Office of the United 

States Trade Representative (USTR) is the principle trade policy advisor to the 

president and has negotiated launch quotas with the People’s Republic of China 
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(PRC), Russia, and the Ukraine that limit the number of U.S. comsats that can be 

launched on foreign launch vehicles. The Clinton Administration ended quotas for 

Russia and the Ukraine in 2000; the agreement with the PRC expires in 2001 and 

negotiations are underway on whether to renew it. See Marcia S. Smith, “Space 

Launch Vehicles: Government Activities, Commercial Competition, and Satellite 

Exports,” (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 23 May 2001), CRS7 through CRS-13; on-line, Internet, 30 August 2001, available from 

http://www.cnie.org/nle/st-59.html. 

33 See “About the FCC,” at http://www.fcc.gov/aboutus.html for information about 

the FCC’s current structure. 

34 See “A Short History of NTIA,” at 

http://www.ntia.doc.gov/opadhome/history.html. 

35 The Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act of 1993 is Public Law 103-66. The 

FCC’s authority to conduct auctions was revised in 1997 and March 2000. 

36 See “FCC Auction Summary,” available at http://www.fcc.gov/wtb/auctions/. 

Winning bidders are required to pay the value of their bid in installments during the 

term of their license. The U.S. Treasury has not been paid this full amount because 

some of the winning bidders have declared bankruptcy or otherwise defaulted on 

their payment schedule. 

37 Richard M. Nunno, “Radiofrequency Spectrum Management,” CRS Report 97-218 

SPR (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Service, 23 April 1998), CRS-6; 

on-line, Internet, available from 

http://www.senate.gov/~dpc/crs/reports/reptsubj.html. See also Congressional 

Budget Office, “Where Do We Go From Here? The FCC Auctions and the Future of 

Radio Spectrum Management,” (Washington, D.C.: Congressional Budget Office, 

April 1997), on-line, Internet, available from 

http://www.cbo.gov/showdoc.cfm?index=9&sequence=0&from=0. 

38 New technologies and services are eroding the distinctions between traditional 

ways of categorizing spectrum allocations such as FSS and MSS. The trend toward 

digital convergence may also undercut the current rationale for auctioning some 

portions of the spectrum but not others. Telecommunications: Glossary of 

Telecommunications Terms, Federal Standard 1037C, 7 August 1996, available from 

http://www.its.bldrdoc.gov/pub/fs-1037/ defines the terms FSS and MSS as follows: 

“Fixed-satellite service: A radiocommunication service between Earth stations at 

given positions when one or more satellites are used; the given position may be a 

specified fixed point or any fixed point within specified areas; in some cases this 

service includes satellite-to-satellite links, which may also be effected in the intersatellite service, the fixed-satellite service may also include feeder links for other 

space radiocommunication services. Mobile-satellite service: A 

radiocommunication service: between mobile earth stations and one or more space 

stations, or between space stations used by this service; or between mobile earth 

stations by means of one or more space stations. This service may also include 

feeder links necessary for its operation.” Hughes Network Service’s DirecPC system 

is an example of a FSS; the Iridium system is an example of a MSS. 
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 39 Nunno, CRS-4, provides the following definitions for DBS and DARS: “Direct 

broadcast satellite (DBS) is a new high powered satellite television delivery system 

operating using small receiving antennas in the 12.2-12.7 GHz band. It is related to 

direct-to-home (DTH) satellite television services that use large receiving antennas 

that have been offered for over a decade and operate in several other frequency 

bands. Digital Audio Radio Services (DARS) is a new high-fidelity radio service 

planned by several companies to be delivered by geostationary satellite. A single 

DARS transmission will cover the entire nation.” Hughes Electronics Corporation’s 

DirecTV is an example of a DBS system; the Sirius system is an example of a 

satellite DARS. 

40 See, for example, Harvey J. Levin, “Emerging Markets for Obit Spectrum 

Assignments,” Telecommunications Policy 12, no.1 (March 1988): 57-76. Factors 

that favor of ITU auctions for comsats include the tendency of many states to 

overestimate their comsat requirements and thereby clog the coordination and 

registration process with “paper satellites” that hold spectrum allocations but may 

never be used. In a notorious case that goes well beyond simple overestimates, the 

tiny island state of Tonga successfully registered for six highly lucrative trans-Pacific 

orbital slots in 1991 and subsequently licensed their slots to other comsat companies 

(e.g. the APSTAR 1A satellite of APT Satellite Holdings Limited). See Edmund L. 

Andrews, “Tiny Tonga Seeks Satellite Empire in Space,” New York Times, 28 

August 1990, 1; and Rick Mendosa, “Tongasat’s Flawed Genius,” on-line, Internet, 

24 August 2001, available from http://www.mendosa.com/tongasat.html. On the 

other hand, if the ITU moved to an auction system for allocating spectrum slots that 

approach could undercut the equitable access compromise in the Allotment Plan 

negotiated at the 1988 WRC. 

41 According to the NTIA, WRC-1992 identified 1885 to 2025 and 2110 to 2200 

Megahertz (MHz) and WRC-2000 identified 806-960, 1710-1885, and 2500-2690 

MHz for 3G applications. GAO, “Defense Spectrum Management,” 6-7. Major 3G 

applications include mobile voice, high-speed data, and Internet capabilities. 

42 Ibid., 2. In a 27 August 2001 letter to Senate leaders Defense Secretary Donald 

Rumsfeld and Joint Chiefs Chairman (CJCS) General Henry Shelton expressed their 

concerns about DOD losing the 1755 to 1850 MHz band. “We depend on this band 

for, among other things, satellite telemetry; tracking and commanding critical 

satellite systems; precision guided munitions; Army, Navy, and Marine Corps 

tactical radio relay systems; air combat training systems; targeting; intelligence; and 

the real-time delivery of voice, video and data information to warfighters and their 

commanders.” They added that while the department is open to a “win-win” 

solution that would provide benefits to both commercial and military users, “no 

solution is feasible until comparable spectrum has been identified for the displaced 

DOD functions.” Defense Daily, 30 August 2001, 7. 43 GAO, “Defense Spectrum Management,” 3-24. The DOD report estimated that it 

would cost at least $2.8 billion to relocate some of the major communications from 

this bandwidth, that it would be more than $4.3 billion for DOD to vacate the band 

completely, and that DOD currently planed to use this band through 2017. Industry 
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estimates showed that auctioning the 1755-1850 MHz band could generate up to $40 

billion. 

44 Ibid., 23-24. 

45 Karen Robb, “U.S. Rethinks Commercial Use of Radio Spectrum,” Space News 15 

October 2001, 10. 

46 Increasing pressure on the spectrum both domestically and internationally as well 

as the need for top-level national spectrum policy are among the top findings of the 

Defense Science Board’s Task Force on DOD Frequency Spectrum Issues, “Coping 

with Change: Managing RF Spectrum to Meet DoD Needs,” (Washington, D.C.: 

Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Acquisition and Technology, 

November 2000). 

47 For background on U.S. plans for doomsday Moon bases see William E. Burrows, 

“Securing the High Ground,” Air & Space Smithsonian 8 (December 1993/January 

1994): 64-69; Jeffrey T. Richelson, “Shootin’ for the Moon,” Bulletin of the Atomic 

Scientists (September/October 2000); and Lieutenant Colonel S. E. Singer, “The 

Military Potential of the Moon,” Air University Quarterly Review 11 (Summer 

1959): 31-53. The most extreme and explicit initial public statement on the military 

potential of the Moon came from Air Force Brigadier General Homer A. Boushey in 

a speech to the National Press Club on 28 January 1958. Boushey described the 

physical characteristics of the Moon that he considered conducive to military 

operations and posited an “environmental doctrine” for the Moon. These 

characteristics included: the Moon’s orbital position as “high ground” in relation to 

the earth, its low gravity and the low escape velocity required for launches from the 

lunar surface or subsurface, the ability to constantly monitor the Earth from the nonrotating Moon, the warning time any station on the Moon would have of an attack 

from Earth, and the protection and secrecy offered by the far side of the Moon. 

Based upon these lunar characteristics, Boushey concluded: “. . . the moon provides a 

retaliation base of unequalled advantage. If we had a base on the moon, either the 

Soviets must launch an overwhelming nuclear attack towards the moon from Russia two 

or two-and-one-half days prior to attacking the continental United States (and such 

launchings could not escape detection), or Russia could attack the continental U.S. first, 

only and inevitably to receive, from the moon some forty-eight hours later, sure and 

massive destruction. It has been said that ‘He who controls the moon, controls the 

earth.’ Our planners must carefully evaluate this statement, for, if true (and I for one 

think it is), then the United States must control the moon.” Boushey’s speech is 

reprinted in Eugene M. Emme, The Impact of Air Power: National Security and World 

Politics (Princeton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand, 1959), 872. 48 Stares, Militarization of Space, 82. 

49 Ibid., 67-69. See also Raymond L. Garthoff, “Banning the Bomb in Outer Space,” 

International Security 5 (Winter 1980/81): 25-40. A sanitized version of NSAM 156 is 

available in the NSC box at the National Archives in Washington. 

50 Stares, Militarization of Space, 82-86; and Garthoff, "Banning the Bomb," 27-31. 51 Stares, Militarization of Space, 83-87; and Garthoff, “Banning the Bomb,” 27-31. 

Sanitized versions of these two NSAMs are available in the NSC box at the National 
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Archives in Washington. NSAM 183 requested the development of a coordinated 

U.S. government position so that the U.S. space program could be “forcefully 

explained and defended at the forthcoming sessions of the UN Outer Space 

Committee [COPUOS] and the General Assembly.” McGeorge Bundy, NSAM 183, 

27 August 1962, 1, NSC box, National Archives, Washington. NSAM 192 indicated 

the president's approval of the recommendations in the ACDA memorandum “A 

Separate Arms Control Measure for Outer Space,” which was the product of the 

Committee of Principals meeting on 19 September. 

52 For analysis on the negotiation history and impact of the OST that emphasizes how 

the Treaty has stunted growth in the uses of space, see Everett C. Dolman, 

Astropolitik: Classic Geopolitics in the Space Age (London: Frank Cass, 2002), 123-

141. 

53 Stares, Militarization of Space, 86-90; and Garthoff, “Banning the Bomb,” 31-36. 

UNGA Resolution 1884 (XVIII), in turn, became the basis for the OST of 1967. The 

process of achieving this ban was at first derailed by and then substantially 

accelerated by the fallout from the Cuban Missile Crisis. 54 Stares, Militarization of Space, 86-87. 55 McDougall, 274. This resolution is officially titled “Declaration of Legal 

Principles Governing Activities in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space.” 

According to McDougall, UNGA 1962 “ratified the role of the COPUOS as the 

formative body for space law” and represented a Soviet retreat towards the space law 

principles advanced by the U.S. 

56 Ibid. McDougall's quotations are from the resolution. 

57 Ibid., 415. 

58 Quoted in Stares, Militarization of Space, 101. This JCS memorandum to 

Secretary McNamara was dated 23 November 1965. 

59 McDougall, Heavens and Earth, 416. 60 Stares, Militarization of Space, 101-2. 61 McDougall, Heavens and Earth, 416-17. Until October, the Soviets insisted on equal 

rights to foreign soil for space tracking sites, by essentially stating that if a state allowed 

a NASA tracking site it must also allow equal access for a Soviet tracking site within its 

territory. 

62 U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, Arms Control and Disarmament 

Agreements: Texts and Histories of Negotiations, 1982 Edition (Washington: GPO), 

51. This quotation is from the preamble to the treaty. “Peaceful purposes” are not 

further defined in the OST. 

63 The quotes are from Article I in ibid., 51. 

64 All major space law and policy documents can be found at the Archimedes 

Institute Library available at 

http://www.permanent.com/archimedes/LawLibrary.html. 

65 Arms Control and Disarmament Agreements, 52. 66 Ibid. 

67 On this issue see, for example, the prepared statement of Deputy Secretary of 

Defense Cyrus Vance in U.S. Congress, Senate, Committee on Foreign Relations, 
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Treaty on Outer Space: Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, 90th 

Cong, 1st sess., 1967, 80-81, 94. (Hereinafter SFRC, “OST Hearings”). When 

pressed further on this issue, Vance indicated that he would find ten or more 

unidentified and potentially harmful space objects as a cause for concern. 68 See, for example, the statement of CJCS General Wheeler in ibid., 84. 69 See Wheeler testimony in ibid., 91-92, 97-98. Although not discussed in open 

session, this preference for NTMV rather than an international on-site inspection 

regime for space presumably was due to U.S. concerns with the possibility of Soviet 

close inspection of U.S. spy satellites. Note also that the terms of the OST draw a 

distinction between the inspection provisions for facilities on the Moon or other 

celestial bodies (“open to representatives of other States Parties to the Treaty on the 

basis of reciprocity”) and the inspection provisions for objects in space (none 

specified). 

70 Ibid., 26. 

71 Ibid., 100. 

72 Ibid., 84-85. 

73 David M. Lupton, in On Space Warfare: A Space Power Doctrine (Maxwell AFB, 

AL: Air University Press, June 1988), develops a typology of four doctrines on the 

use of space: Sanctuary, Survivability, Control, and High Ground. The sanctuary 

doctrine builds on President Dwight Eisenhower’s concepts of “open skies” and 

space for peaceful purposes by emphasizing that space systems are ideal for 

monitoring military activity, providing early warning to reduce the likelihood of 

surprise attack, and serving as NTM to enable and enforce strategic arms control. 

The basic tenet of the sanctuary doctrine is that space surveillance systems make 

nuclear wars less likely. Sanctuary doctrine is closely linked to deterrence theory 

and the assumption that no meaningful defense against nuclear attack by ballistic 

missiles is possible. Sanctuary doctrine advocates believe that overflight and remote 

sensing enhance stability and that space must be kept a weapons-free zone to protect 

the critical contributions of space surveillance systems to global security. 

Survivability, Lupton’s second space doctrine, emphasizes broad utility for military 

space systems, not only at the strategic level emphasized in the sanctuary doctrine, 

but also at the tactical level of space support to the warfighter that has emerged as 

the most important force enhancement mission since the end of the Cold War. The 

survivability doctrine also differs from the sanctuary doctrine because it highlights 

space system vulnerabilities and questions whether space can be maintained as a 

sanctuary due to ongoing technological improvements in systems such as ASAT 

weapons. Lupton’s control doctrine is analogous to military thinking about sea or 

air control and asserts the need for control of space in order to apply spacepower 

most effectively. Thus, the control doctrine sees space as similar to other military 

environments and argues that both commercial activities and military requirements 

dictate the need for space surveillance, as well as offensive and defensive 

counterspace capabilities. Lupton’s final doctrine, high ground, argues that space is 

the dominant theater of military operations and is capable of affecting terrestrial 

conflict in decisive ways. As a primary example of such capability, the high-ground 
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doctrine points to the potential of space-based ballistic missile defense (BMD) to 

overturn the dominance of offensive strategic nuclear forces. 74 Stares, Militarization of Space, 99-100. 75 Gerald T. Cantwell, “The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1968, Part II,” Secret 

History, Office of Air Force History, October 1970, 2-6; microfiche document 00337 

in U.S. Military Uses of Space, 1945-1991: Index and Guide (Washington: The 

National Security Archive and Alexandria, VA: Chadwyck-Healey, Inc., 1991). 

Many sections of this report remain classified but the sanitized version still conveys 

the general concern of the Air Force with the potential of the FOBS and reveals Air 

Force plans to counter the FOBS with improvements in early warning systems such 

as 440L forward scatter over-the-horizon (OTH) radars and Program 949 (Defense 

Support Program) infrared launch detection satellites. 76 The standard work on thinking about the unthinkable is Lawrence Friedman, The 

Evolution of Nuclear Strategy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1983). John 

Newhouse, Cold Dawn: The Story of SALT (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 

1973) describes MAD and the SALT I negotiations in detail. 

77 Donald R. Baucom, The Origins of SDI: 1944-1983, (Lawrence: University Press of 

Kansas, 1992), 11-24. Nike-X consisted of a large phased array guidance system 

together with two nuclear-armed missiles, a modified Zeus renamed Spartan and a highacceleration, short-range missile known as Sprint. The Spartan was designed to 

intercept incoming reentry vehicles (RVs) at an altitude of 70 to 100 miles and the 

Sprint would provide a second layer of defense at 20 to 30 miles altitude after 

atmospheric sorting of decoys from warheads. Under ARPA's Project Defender, fairly 

small-scale conceptual studies of space-based BMD systems were undertaken during the 

late 1950s and early 1960s. One type of BMD system under study within Project 

Defender was the ballistic missile boost intercept (BAMBI) project. One BAMBI 

concept called for high-speed ground based interceptor missiles with nuclear warheads; 

another, known as space patrol active defense, called for space-based kinetic energy 

weapons (KEW) housed in “garage” satellites. 

78 Safeguard was widely seen as ineffective against a large-scale attack. DOD had 

independently initiated plans to deactivate the system by 1 July 1976. See Baucom, 

Origins of SDI, 96-97. 79 Baucom, Origins of SDI, 108-27; Michael A. G. Michaud, Reaching for the High 

Frontier: The American Pro-Space Movement 1972-84 (New York: Praeger, 1986), 

222-25; and Angelo Codevilla, While Others Build: The Commonsense Approach to the 

Strategic Defense Initiative (New York: Free Press, 1988), 59-92. 80 Baucom, Origins of SDI, 119. This study analyzed the costs and operational 

parameters of space-based laser systems with varying numbers of laser battle stations 

and different capabilities. Hunter’s study was the anonymous source behind Robinson’s 

16 October 1978 Aviation Week & Space Technology article, “Army Pushes New 

Weapons Effort.” Robinson anonymously gave Hunter's study wide circulation as a 

part of an influential series of articles on emerging BMD technologies. This initial 

circle was completed after Hunter met Codevilla at a symposium organized by the 
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Institute for Foreign Policy Analysis in Washington and Codevilla later introduced 

Hunter to his boss. 

81 Ibid., 126-27; and Codevilla, While Others Build, 68-73. Hunter’s briefing team was 

known as the gang of four and included laser expert Dr. Joseph Miller of TRW, optical 

expert Dr. Norbert Schnog from Perkin-Elmer, and Dr. Gerald Ouellette, an expert in 

pointing and tracking technologies from the Draper Laboratory. Codevilla reports that 

15 Senators attended the informal briefing on 12 December 1979. This group included: 

Howell Heflin (D.-AL), Ernest Hollings (D.-SC), John Tower (R.-TX), Henry Jackson 

(D.-WA), Daniel Moynihan (D.-NY), Harrison Schmitt (R.-MN), and Jake Garn (R.-

UT). 

82 “Defense Dept. Experts Confirm Efficacy of Space-Based Lasers,” Aviation Week & 

Space Technology, 28 July 1980. Cited in Baucom, Origins of SDI, 127. 83 Baucom, Origins of SDI, 137. As suggested by his title, Codevilla is very critical of 

what he perceives to be the Pentagon’s slow response to the military potential of spacebased lasers. He particularly emphasizes Air Force opposition to Wallop’s initiatives by 

noting its foot-dragging in establishing the laser program office and bureaucratic 

maneuvering such as staffing this office with underachievers. See While Others Build, 

77-92. Other important outputs of this group included Robinson’s continuing series of 

articles on strategic defense technologies and Wallop’s influential article, “Opportunities 

and Imperatives of Ballistic Missile Defense,” Strategic Review 7 (Fall 1979): 13-21. 84 On the military potential of space-based lasers see, for example, Colin S. Gray, 

American Military Space Policy: Information Systems, Weapons Systems, and Arms 

Control (Cambridge, MA: Abt Books, 1982), 45-74; Keith B. Payne, Laser Weapons in 

Space: Policy and Doctrine (Boulder: Westview Press, 1983); and one of the best brief 

treatments of the basic strategic implications of space and the military potential of 

space-based weaponry—Simon P. Worden and Bruce P. Jackson, “Space, Power, and 

Strategy,” The National Interest (Fall 1988): 43-52. A major conclusion of the last 

piece is that “[n]on-nuclear weapons based in space are potentially more effective 

militarily than nuclear weapons.” Page 45; emphasis in original. 85 For a review of the factors which motivated Reagan’s 23 March 1983 SDI speech 

which emphasizes the role of Dr. Edward Teller, see Philip M. Boffey, William J. 

Broad, Leslie H. Gelb, Charles Mohr, and Holcomb B. Noble, Claiming the Heavens: 

The New York Times Complete Guide to the Star Wars Debate (New York: Times 

Books, 1988), 3-25. 

86 Note, especially, that the words “space” and “shield” do not even appear in 

Reagan’s 23 March 1983 speech and that Reagan did not insist that only a “leakproof” defense would have strategic value. The material in the following paragraphs 

is drawn primarily from Baucom, Origins of SDI, 171-96. 87 The story behind Watkins’ conversion to strong support for strategic defenses 

within the JCS is unconventional and is also illustrative of the limited military 

support for strategic defenses at the beginning of 1983. Watkins is a devout Catholic 

and was eventually drawn towards the concept of strategic defenses on a personal 

level due to his feelings toward the anti-nuclear positions of the U.S. Catholic 

Church in the early 1980s. This anti-nuclear stance was evident in the positions 
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taken at National Conference of Catholic Bishops meetings and culminated in the 

1983 pastoral letter, “The Challenge of Peace: God’s Promise and Our Response.” 

Watkins strongly believed that nuclear deterrence was moral and compatible with 

Catholicism. But he was very upset to learn “from the navy’s chief of chaplains that 

news of the bishops’ work was causing sailors and officers to leave because they 

believed that service in the navy was no longer compatible with a moral life.” In 

1982-83, he undertook a series of presentations to counter the bishops’ positions. 

The depth of Watkins’s feelings on this issue was evident to Baucom during their 

interview because Watkins retained an extensive grasp of the details concerning 

various draft versions of the pastoral letter more than five years after the event. On a 

professional level, Watkins believed that the December 1982 JCS split vote 3-2 

against MX deployment pending resolution of the basing mode was symptomatic of 

America’s strategic quandary. Thus, beginning at the very end of 1982, he was both 

personally and professionally drawn towards strategic defenses as the best way out 

of America's worsening strategic situation, a quagmire he described in biblical terms 

as “a strategic valley of death.” Between the summer of 1982 and February 1983, 

the JCS met over forty times in executive session to discuss the issues raised by the 

growing vulnerability of U.S. ICBM forces. Baucom, Origins of SDI, 184-87. 88 Quoted from McFarlane interview in ibid., 182. 

89 Quote from McFarlane interview in ibid., 191. 

90 All of these studies remain classified. In October 1983, an unclassified summary of 

the Hoffman study was released. This summary: stressed previous and ongoing 

U.S.S.R. strategic defense efforts and the U.S. strategic need for BMD, emphasized that 

any BMD systems must be designed to be highly survivable, and recommended that the 

U.S. embark on a building-block approach towards BMD by noting that even 

“intermediate” BMD systems could significantly enhance deterrence. In April 1984, an 

unclassified summary of the eight volume Fletcher study was made public. The 

conclusions of the Fletcher study included that “powerful new technologies are 

becoming available that justify a major technology development effort”; “the most 

effective systems have multiple layers, or tiers”; and “significant demonstrations of 

developing technologies for critical ballistic missile defense functions can be performed 

over the next ten years”. These unclassified summaries are reprinted in Steven E. Miller 

and Stephen Van Evera, eds., The Star Wars Controversy (Princeton: Princeton 

University Press, 1986), 273-327. 

91 U.S. Department of Defense, Strategic Defense Initiative Organization, Report to the 

Congress on the Strategic Defense Initiative, (Washington: GPO, 1985), 3. 

92 The HOE program was begun under Army auspices in 1980. This was the fourth and 

final test in this series and the only successful intercept. The results from this test were 

widely touted at the time as being equivalent to “hitting a bullet with a bullet.” On 18 

August 1993, the New York Times charged that this test was rigged as a part of a larger 

U.S. deception campaign designed to deceive the Soviets about the efficacy of U.S. 

BMD efforts. See Tim Weiner, “Lies and Rigged ‘Star Wars’ Test Fooled the Kremlin, 

and Congress,” New York Times, 18 August 1993, p. A1. An investigation by DOD and 

GAO investigators confirmed that there had been a deception campaign underway at 
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this time but that this effort was halted prior to the 10 June HOE test. See “Washington 

Outlook: Deception Confirmed, Test Exonerated,” Aviation Week & Space Technology, 

13 September 1993. 

93 Service, and especially Air Force, opposition to space-based lasers and other possible 

components of strategic defense systems is a major theme in Codevilla, While Others 

Build, especially 218-22; see also Bill Rusher, “Why brass fights SDI,” Colorado 

Springs Gazette Telegraph, 13 August 1989, p. 11. Rusher is the former publisher of 

National Review. A primary fear of the Services regarding SDI was that the funding for 

a large-scale BMD deployment would come out of their budgets and strip funds from 

their preferred, core missions. 

94 Ambassador Paul H. Nitze, “On the Road to a More Stable Peace,” Bureau of Public 

Affairs, Department of State, Current Policy No. 657, 20 February 1985, 2. 

95 “Chronology” in Military Uses of Space, 59. The Delta 181 test took place on 8 

February 1988 and tested more advanced sensing and tracking technologies. 96 U.S. Department of Defense, Strategic Defense Initiative Organization, Report to the 

Congress on the Strategic Defense Initiative, (Washington: GPO, April 1988), 1-9. 97 U.S. Department of Defense, Office of Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public 

Affairs), “News Release: SDI Gains Milestone I Approval,” 18 September 1987. The 

six elements selected for the Milestone I dem/val review were the ground-based 

surveillance and tracking system (GSTS); the boost surveillance and tracking system 

(BSTS); the space-based surveillance and tracking system (SSTS); battle 

management/command, control, and communications (BM/C3

); the space-based 

interceptor (SBI); and the exoatmospheric reentry vehicle interceptor subsystem (ERIS). 

98 Michael R. Gordon, “General Quitting as Project Chief for Missile Shield,” New York 

Times, 28 September 1988, p. A1. Abrahamson was an energetic, positive, and salesoriented advocate for Reagan’s original comprehensive vision of SDI in his appearances 

before Congress and the public. Despite a long string of successful assignments and 

being perceived as a rising star within the Air Force prior to becoming director of SDIO, 

Abrahamson’s nomination by President Reagan for full general was blocked by forces 

within DOD and the Senate “in part because of concern that a promotion of that sort 

would increase the influence of the Strategic Defense Initiative office in Pentagon 

decision-making.” Abrahamson's replacement, Air Force Lieutenant General George L. 

Monahan, Jr., entered office only one year prior to reaching his mandatory retirement 

after 35 years of service—another data point that seemed to indicate the military’s true 

feelings towards SDI. Andrew Rosenthal, “Pentagon: The New ‘Star Wars’ Chief 

Brings a Soft-Sell Approach to his Mission,” New York Times, 18 May 1989, p. A15. 99 U.S. Department of Defense, Strategic Defense Initiative Organization, 1989 Report 

to the Congress on the Strategic Defense Initiative, (Washington: GPO, 13 March 

1989), 5.3-1 through 5.3-3. Wood is a protegee of Teller who was heavily involved in 

the X-Ray laser program prior to developing the Brilliant Pebbles concept. 

100 Ibid., 140. Emphasis added. 101 The ABMT interpretation dispute in the 1980s generated a large volume of 

literature and was clearly one of the most important and contentious strategic issues 

near the end of the Cold War. Some of the best and most important sources on this 
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debate and its impact include: U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Public Affairs, 

Statements by Special Advisor to the President and Secretary of State on Arms 

Control Matters Ambassador Paul H. Nitze and Legal Advisor Abraham D. Soafer, 

“The ABM Treaty and the SDI Program,” Current Policy No. 755, October 1985; 

Abram Chayes and Antonia Handler Chayes, “Testing and Development of ‘Exotic’ 

Systems under the ABM Treaty: The Great Reinterpretation Debate,” and Abraham 

D. Soafer, “The ABM Treaty and the Strategic Defense Initiative,” Harvard Law 

Review 99 (June 1986): 1956-1985; Adam M. Garfinkle, “ABM-The Wrong 

Debate,” The National Interest, Spring 1988, 76-84; Mark T. Clark, “The ABM 

Treaty Interpretation Dispute: Partial Analyses and the Forgotten Context,” Global 

Affairs 2 (Summer 1987): 58-79; Strategic Defense Initiative Organization, Report to 

the Congress on the Strategic Defense Initiative (Washington, GPO, April 1987), 

Appendix D; and Senator Sam Nunn in the Congressional Record, Daily ed., (11-13 

March 1987), S2967-S2986, S3090-S3095, and S3171-S3173. 

102 Arms Control and Disarmament Agreements, 139-40. 103 The provisions in Article III of the ABMT allowed each party two 100 launcher 

declared ABM sites. This provision was amended to allow each party only one declared 

ABM site by the Protocol to the ABMT signed on 3 July 1974. Ibid., 162-63. 

104 Ibid., 143. Article XIII establishes and outlines the duties of the Standing 

Consultative Committee (SCC). Article XIV discusses the provisions for reviewing and 

amending the treaty. 

105 On this issue, see, for example, Stares, Militarization of Space, 166-67. OPP are 

never defined in the treaty. 

106 For a discussion of these issues, see, for example, Clark, “The ABM Treaty 

Interpretation Dispute.” 

107 National Security Advisor Robert C. McFarlane first publicly revealed the Reagan 

Administration’s LCI on the “Meet the Press” television show on 6 October 1985. 

Note also that the Clinton Administration officially rejected the LCI, see, for 

example, Thomas L. Friedman, “U.S. Formally Rejects ‘Star Wars’ in ABM Treaty,” 

New York Times, 15 July 1993, p. A6. 108 The BMDO website shows $58.1 billion in SDIO and BMDO then-year dollar 

expenditures from fiscal year 1985 to 2001 

(http://www.acq.osd.mil/bmdo/bmdolink/pdf/1529-00.pdf). 

109 Shortly after taking office, the Clinton Administration decided not to resume the 

Ross-Mamedov talks on a cooperative transition to strategic defenses. See Curt 

Weldon, “Charting a New Course on Missile Defense,” in Peter L. Hays, James M. 

Smith, Alan R. Van Tassel, and Guy M. Walsh, eds., Spacepower for a New 

Millennium: Space and U.S. National Security (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2000), 

141-164; and Henry F. Cooper, “Active Defenses to Help Counter Proliferation,” in 

Peter L. Hays, Vincent J. Jodoin, and Alan R. Van Tassel, eds., Countering the 

Proliferation and Use of Weapons of Mass Destruction (New York: McGraw-Hill, 

1998), 193-215. Representative Weldon (R.-PA) is a leading advocate for BMD in 

the House of Representatives and Ambassador Cooper was the last Director of 

SDIO. 
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133

 110 Dennis Ward, “Helsinki, Demarcation, and the Prospects for U.S.-Russian 

Accommodation on the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty,” Comparative Security 16 

(1997): 377-384. Ward was a BMDO representative at the SCC during the 

demarcation negotiations. In this article he argues that the demarcation agreement 

announced at Helsinki “fails at its only purpose—to draw a clear demarcation line 

that provides unambiguous guidance for compliance determinations” because there 

was never disagreement that the lower velocity interceptors were compliant but the 

demarcation agreement does not set a standard for testing compliance of higher 

velocity systems. 

111 Ibid., 380-81. 112 Jesse Helms (R.-NC) was Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee 

and is a leading opponent of the ABM Treaty. Helms argued that the Constitution 

requires submitting treaty protocols to the Senate for advice and consent prior to 

ratification. In May 1997, he made the requirement to submit the ABM Treaty 

protocols a legally binding precondition for ratification of the Conventional Forces in 

Europe Flank Document. The Clinton Administration missed Helms’ deadline of 1 

June 1999 for the administration to submit the ABM Treaty protocols to the Senate 

for approval. For its part, the Clinton Administration’s Cologne Joint Statement with 

President Yeltsin called for the United States and Russia to move ahead on START 

III and ABM Treaty modification negotiations while continuing to link the ABM 

Treaty protocols (and several other arms control issues) to ratification of START II 

by the Russian Duma. The U.S. Senate provided its advice and consent to 

ratification of START II 26 January 1996 and the Russian Duma ratified START II 

with conditions on 14 April 2000. The Clinton Administration had previously 

indicated that it would submit the ABM Treaty protocols to the Senate after the 

Duma ratified START II but it did not submit the protocols to the Senate prior to 

leaving office. See Jesse Helms, “Amend the ABM Treaty? No, Scrap It,” Wall 

Street Journal, 22 January 1999. 113 1998 appears to be a landmark year in terms of changing perceptions of the 

ballistic missile threat and the utility of missile defenses. At the risk of 

oversimplification, it is fair to characterize the beginning of the year as dominated by 

traditional thinking concerning the expense and difficulty of defense and the lack of 

a near-term threat. A continuing series of General Accounting Office (GAO) reports 

or the Welch Report’s finding that BMDO was “rushing to failure” are representative 

of the first half of the year. Perceptions of the potential threat and proper response 

changed quite radically, however, following the Indian and Pakistani nuclear tests in 

May, the 15 July release of the Report of the Commission to Assess the Ballistic 

Missile Threat to the United States (usually referred to as the Rumsfeld Report after 

its chairman, former and future Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld), and the 

31 August North Korean Taepo Dong I launch. According to Rumsfeld, the report 

found “an environment of little or no warning of ballistic missile threats to the 

United States from several emerging powers,” a finding that was made to appear 

prescient by the Korean launch six weeks later. The Rumsfeld Commission’s charter 

was characterized as a “Team B” approach to reexamine the data that led to the 
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December 1995 National Intelligence Estimate (NIE 95-19) finding that the 

continental United States would not be likely to face a ballistic missile threat until 

2010. See Bill Gertz, “Missile Threats and Defenses,” Air Force Magazine 81 

(October 1998) online at http://www.afa.org/magazine1098missile.html. 114 “Special Defense Department Briefing with Defense Secretary William Cohen,” 

Federal News Service, 20 Jan 1999. Available online at 

http://ebwest.dtic.mil/Jan1999/s19990121cohen.htm. 

115 Bush’s most comprehensive statement on the ABMT and nuclear deterrence to 

date was his 1 May 2001 speech at National Defense University (available from 

http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2001/05/20010501-10.html). Bush called 

for “a new framework that allows us to build missile defenses to counter the different 

threats of today’s world. To do so we must move beyond the constraints of the 30-

year-old ABM Treaty. This treaty does not recognize the present or point us to the 

future. It enshrines the past.” He also specifically linked together building defenses 

with offensive strategic nuclear force reductions as part of the new framework. Most 

significantly for our focus, President Bush noted some of the potential advantages of 

boost phase intercepts but carefully avoided even mentioning space-based BMD 

systems: “[Secretary Rumsfeld] has identified near-term options that could allow us 

to deploy an initial capability against limited threats. In some cases, we can draw on 

already established technologies that might involve land- based and sea-based 

capabilities to intercept missiles in mid-course or after they re-enter the atmosphere. 

We also recognize the substantial advantages of intercepting missiles early in their 

flight, especially in the boost phase. The preliminary work has produced some 

promising options for advanced sensors and interceptors that may provide this 

capability. If based at sea or on aircraft, such approaches could provide limited but 

effective defenses.” Presidents Bush and Putin met on 16 June in Slovenia, on 22 

July in Italy, and on 13-15 November 2001 in Washington and Crawford, Texas. At 

the November summit President Bush promised to cut the U.S. nuclear arsenal by 

two-thirds, down to 1,700 to 2,200 warheads, in the next 10 years and President 

Putin pledged to make similar reductions in the total number of Russian warheads. 

According to the New York Times, National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice 

summarized the outcome of the summit on the ABMT as follows: “‘The president 

has made clear that one way or another the U.S. will have to get out of the 

constraints of the missile defense treaty.’ She set no deadlines and insisted that the 

relationship between the two men was so good that their differences over the treaty 

were less important than they were earlier this year. ‘This is a smaller element of the 

U.S.-Russia relationship than it was several months ago and certainly than it was 

before Sept. 11,’ Ms. Rice said.” David E. Sanger, “Before and After Bush and 

Putin’s Banter, No Agreement on Missile Defense,” New York Times, 16 November 

2001. For discussion on the administration’s rationale for withdrawing from the 

ABMT see Jane Perlez, “Rice on Front Lines as Adviser to Bush,” New York Times, 

19 August 2001; and Patrick E. Tyler, “U.S. Sets Deadline for Settlement of ABM 

Argument,” New York Times, 22 August 2001. On 13 December 2001, the Bush 

Administration provided formal notification of its withdrawal from the ABM Treaty. 
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In accordance with Article XV of the Treaty, the effective date of withdrawal will be 

six months from the formal notification. “ABM Treaty Fact Sheet,” (Washington, 

D.C.: The White House, Office of the Press Secretary, 13 December 2001). 

Available from http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2001/12/20011213-

2.html. 

 116 “ABM Treaty Fact Sheet,” (Washington, D.C.: The White House, Office of the 

Press Secretary, 13 December 2001). Available from 

http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2001/12/print/20011213-2.html. 117 Thomas Duffy, “Missile Defense Overhaul Complete; BMDO Made a Defense 

Agency,” Inside the Army, 7 January 2002, 1; see also Secretary of Defense Donald 

H. Rumsfeld’s seven-page memo, “Missile Defense Program Direction,” 

(Washington, D.C.: Office of the Secretary of Defense, Department of Defense, 2 

January 2002). 

118 Stares, Militarization of Space, 49. Stares provides the most detailed account of 

the development of U.S. ASAT programs and is the primary source for the following 

section. 

119 Ibid.; and Major General John B. Medaris, USA, (Ret.), Countdown for Decision

(New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1962), 162. 

120 Stares, Militarization of Space, 49-50. 121 Ibid. 122 According to Stares, there were four primary reasons why the Eisenhower 

Administration chose to take a very slow and studied approach to the development of 

ASAT or other space weapons during the remainder of its tenure: 1) The current and 

projected Soviet space threat from reconnaissance satellites or possible orbital 

bombardment systems was not considered grave enough to require a U.S. ASAT 

system. 2) Orbital bombardment systems and other possible space-to-earth weapons 

systems were not judged to be the most rational allocation of defense efforts. 3) 

Space-based systems with a demonstrated military rationale such as a space-based 

ballistic missile defense system faced prohibitive technical and cost hurdles. And, 4) 

most importantly, because of the administration’s overriding concern with the 

development of spy satellites, it had an equal desire to protect these systems from the 

impact of a possible U.S.-U.S.S.R. “ASAT race.” Stares, Militarization of Space, 

50-52. According to York, “[t]he President himself, in recognition of the fact that 

we didn’t want anybody else interfering with our satellites, limited this program [the 

SAINT ASAT] to ‘study only’ status and ordered that no publicity be given either 

the idea or the study of it.” Herbert F. York, Race to Oblivion: A Participant’s View 

of the Arms Race (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1970), 131. Thus, once again the 

secret but all-powerful influence of spysat requirements fundamentally shaped 

another initial military space application. 

123 Stares, Militarization of Space, 112. 124 Ibid., 112-13. Stares notes that the discovery of an unidentified satellite in December 

1959 strengthened the Air Force’s case to go ahead with SAINT. On the impact of this 

unidentified satellite see also George Kistiakowsky, A Scientist at the White House: The
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Private Diary of President Eisenhower’s Special Assistant for Science and Technology, 

(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976), 245. 

125 Stares, Militarization of Space, 112-13; and Kistiakowsky, Private Diary, 229-30. 

As an indication of the perception that Kistiakowsky was at this time the key 

administration decision-maker on space and missile issues consider the following 

remark from General Bernard Schriever to Kistiakowsky as recorded in the latter’s diary 

for 16 December 1959 (page 200): “everybody in the Air Force from the secretary down 

now thinks that you control the entire military R & D program.” 

126 Stares, Militarization of Space, 115-16. See also Steinberg, Satellite 

Reconnaissance, 83-85. The reoriented SAINT program (program 706) was a study 

program only. The Air Force, noting that ASAT requirements were increasing, planned 

to use the Blue Gemini and the Manned Orbital Development Station (MODS) 

programs to test manned ASAT techniques. Steinberg’s interviews with former Deputy 

Secretary of Defense Roswell L. Gilpatric, former Air Force Secretary Eugene M. 

Zuckert, and retired General Schriever indicate that McNamara personally canceled the 

SAINT program, primarily due to his fears of an action-reaction space-based ASAT 

race. 

127 Stares, Militarization of Space, 109. See also “Chronology” in Military Uses of 

Space, 30; and “Space Systems Glossary,” in ibid., 154. Project Bold Orion was 

designed primarily to test the feasibility of air-launched ballistic missiles. The missile 

apparently passed with four miles of its target, certainly a lethal range for a nuclear 

warhead. 

128 Stares, Militarization of Space, 109-11. The smaller ASAT missiles used in these 

tests were launched from F-4s. 

129 Ibid., 74. 130 Ibid., 76. 131 Ibid., 118-19. Stares questions whether the system was truly operational as of this 

date. Program 505 was deactivated by 1967. 

132 Ibid., 121. 133 Ibid., 123. The modified Thor missiles used in Project 437 apparently had a 

somewhat longer range (approximately 700 miles) than the modified Nike Zeus missiles 

in the Project 505 ASAT system. See Cantwell, “AF in Space, FY 64,” 61; microfiche 

document 00330 in Military Uses of Space. As requested by DOD, Program 437 was 

granted highest national priority for research and development by NSAM 258 on 6 

August 1963. See McGeorge Bundy, “National Security Action Memorandum No. 258, 

Subject: Assignment of Highest National Priority to Program 437,” 6 August 1963; 

microfiche document 00542 in Military Uses of Space. 134 “News Conference of Honorable Robert S. McNamara, Secretary of Defense, The 

Pentagon, Friday, September 18, 1964, 0900;” microfiche document 00018 in Military 

Uses of Space. 135 On these operational deficiencies see Stares, Militarization of Space, 117-28; 

Steinberg, Satellite Reconnaissance, 85; Cantwell, “AF in Space, FY 64,” 61; 

microfiche document 00330 in Military Uses of Space; and Henry F. Cooper, “AntiSatellite Systems and Arms Control: Lessons From the Past,” Strategic Review 17 
HAYS 

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(Spring 1989): 40-48. Cantwell stated that the limiting factor on the Program 437 

system reaction time was “the target tracking time [between 24 and 36 hours] needed to 

acquire sufficiently accurate satellite position data.” Steinberg notes that some of these 

operational deficiencies were explicitly highlighted by top U.S. officials including 

President Johnson; he believes these statements on the deficiencies of the Program 437 

ASAT system were a part of the larger “informal bargaining” campaign between the 

superpowers on space that is the focus of his study. On the limitations of ASATs more 

generally see Ashton B. Carter, “Satellites and Anti-Satellites: The Limits of the 

Possible,” International Security 10 (Spring 1986): 46-98. 136 The limited and temporary nature of the ASAT systems authorized by Secretary 

McNamara is well illustrated by the history of these systems once deployed. The 

Army's Program 505 was declared operational on 1 August 1963 but the system was 

dismantled less than four years later. The Nike Zeus missiles in this system were 

apparently only tested seven times between 1964 and 1966. Program 505 was 

terminated by 1967. Apparently, McNamara’s decision was motivated primarily by 

a desire to avoid duplication of the more capable Program 437 ASAT system. The 

Air Force's Program 437 ASAT system fared little better. Program 437 became 

operational on 10 June 1964. Between 1964 and 1970, sixteen Thor missiles were 

launched from Johnson Island in support of this program but only six were “combat 

test launches” or actual Air Defense Command tests of the alert Program 437 ASAT 

system while the remaining launches tested various different related systems. On 4 

May 1970 Deputy Secretary of Defense David Packard indicated that the Air Force 

“should phase down the [437] system by the end of FY ‘70 or as soon thereafter as 

possible.” Although Program 437 remained nominally operational until 1 April 

1975, Packard’s decision in 1970 marked the effective end of this program and of the 

United States’ only operational ASAT systems. Stares, Militarization of Space, 119-

127. 

137 Stares, Militarization of Space, 136. Emphasis in original. 138 Ibid.; and William E. Burrows, Deep Black: Space Espionage and National 

Security (New York: Berkley Books, 1986), 268-69. The Soviet co-orbital system is 

normally launched into an orbit with the same inclination as the target satellite at a 

slightly higher or lower altitude (known as a grazing orbit). The ASAT vehicle then 

uses radar tracking to maneuver itself within close range of the target satellite over 

the course of one or two orbits around the earth. The Soviet system apparently 

employs metal pellets propelled by an explosive warhead as its kill mechanism. An 

artist’s rendering of the Soviet ASAT system attacking a satellite is reprinted in U.S. 

Department of Defense and U.S. Department of State, Soviet Strategic Defense 

Programs (Washington: GPO, October 1985), 15. In 1964, the Soviets created the 

PKO (anti-space defense) section of the PVO Strany Air Defense Forces; PKO is 

apparently responsible for both the Soviet ABM and ASAT systems. Note also that 

dedicated ASAT systems such as the Soviet co-orbital system or the U.S. miniature 

homing vehicle (MHV) receive a great deal of attention but are only one of at least 

four broad categories of potential ASAT weapons. The other categories include: 1) 

systems with residual ASAT capabilities such as ABM systems or possibly modified 
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nuclear-armed ballistic missiles; 2) ground-based lasers; and 3) electronic warfare. 

On the complete Soviet strategic defense network and the place of ASAT within this 

system, see Soviet Strategic Defense Programs, 7-16. On the particular strengths 

and weaknesses of different types of ASAT approaches see, for example, Nicholas L. 

Johnson, The Soviet Year in Space, 1987 (Colorado Springs: Teledyne Brown 

Engineering, 1988), 78-81. 

139 There is a great deal of disagreement over what constitutes a “successful” ASAT test 

and this disagreement illustrates both the difficulties in performing and monitoring these 

type of operations and, more importantly, reflects differing perceptions on the military 

utility of ASAT within the differing schools of thought on space. See Stares, 

Militarization of Space, 136-40; and Burrows, Deep Black, 268-69. 140 Stares, Militarization of Space, 162. The Soviet tests were the object of a good deal 

of speculation within the aerospace press throughout this time. 

141 Ibid., 155. See Stares, 146-155 for a discussion on the general motives behind the 

Soviet ASAT system. 

142 Burrows, Deep Black, 268. 143 The vulnerability of U.S. DSP satellites in GSO to being “blinded” by Soviet 

ground-based lasers was apparently first demonstrated in September and October 

1975, adding to U.S. concerns about the survivability and utility of its military space 

assets. See Stares, Militarization of Space, 169; and “Chronology,” 41 in Military 

Uses of Space. 144 Ibid., 168-70. These studies included: a 1975 panel headed by Charles Slichter 

from the University of Chicago which studied “ways of improving and safeguarding 

the flow of information to and from commanders in the field”; and another panel 

chaired by Solomon Buchsbaum which specifically studied the problem of satellite 

vulnerability during 1976. Deputy National Security Advisor Lieutenant General 

Brent Scowcroft briefed the results of these panels to President Ford who became 

“very concerned” with this issue and “asked the DOD for their own analysis.” 145 Ibid., 170, 176-78. NSDM-333 was not available in the NSC box at the National 

Archives. 

146 Ibid., 170. 147 Ibid. Stares’ analysis of these developments during the Ford Administration 

seems to be based almost completely upon interviews with former “senior” officials 

who wished to remain anonymous rather than upon harder documentary evidence. 

The primary Soviet space-based targeting systems which concerned the U.S. at this 

time were the nuclear powered Radar Ocean Reconnaissance (RORSAT) and the 

ELINT Ocean Reconnaissance (EORSAT) systems first deployed in 1974. 148 Ibid., 171. Ford apparently was “very upset and concerned about the relaxed 

approach of the Defense Department” towards developing a new ASAT system and 

felt “the only thing to do was to issue a formal directive.” According to Donald 

Hafner, an analyst with the NSC ASAT Working Group during 1977-78,: “Secretary 

of State Kissinger argued that the U.S. should redress any asymmetry in ASAT 

capabilities between the two sides before any arms control restraints were 

considered. The directive [NSDM-345] by the Ford Administration to go ahead with 
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the MHV system did call for a study of arms control options, but it did not include 

any concrete proposal for inviting the Soviets to ASAT talks. Kissinger may have 

felt it was premature to make such a proposal; or indeed, he may not have favored 

negotiations at all.” See Donald L. Hafner, “Averting a Brobdingnagian Skeet 

Shoot: Arms Control Measures for Anti-Satellite Weapons,” International Security 5 

(Winter 1980/81): 50-51. NSDM-345 was not available in the NSC box at the 

National Archives. 

149 Stares, Militarization of Space, 181-82. The quote is from White House Fact 

Sheet, “U.S. National Space Policy,” 20 June 1978, reprinted in President's Space 

Report, 1978, 98-100. 150 Stares, Militarization of Space, 182. 151 Ibid., 184. 152 Cited in ibid. 153 Stares, Militarization of Space, 194-95; and John Wertheimer, “The Antisatellite 

Negotiations,” in Superpower Arms Control: Setting the Record Straight, eds. Albert 

Carnesale and Richard N. Haass (Cambridge, MA: Ballinger Publishers, 1987), 142-

43. 

154 Stares, Militarization of Space, 195. 155 Ibid., 196. 156 Ibid., 197; and Wertheimer, “Antisatellite Negotiations,” 145-46. 157 Stares, Militarization of Space, 198-99. 158 Ashton B. Carter, “Satellites and Anti-Satellites: The Limits of the Possible,” 

International Security 10 (Spring 1986): 68. 

159 Reprinted in President’s Space Report, 1982, 99. 160 Information in this paragraph is drawn from the following sources: Stares, 

Militarization of Space, 206-9, 220-22; Craig Covault, “Antisatellite Weapon Design 

Advances,” Aviation Week & Space Technology, 16 June 1980, 243-47; and House, 

“Defense Appropriations, 84,” 498-501. The complete MHV ASAT weapon weighed 

about 2600 pounds and was approximately 17 feet long and 18 inches in diameter. In 

1981, the official name of this program was changed to the prototype miniature airlaunched system (PMALS), but the MHV, MV, or air-launched MV (ALMV) 

terminology is still used most often. A GAO report critical of the MHV ASAT system 

was completed in January 1983 and estimated that the total procurement costs would 

total at least $3.6 billion versus the $3.45 billion estimated by the Air Force. The Air 

Force planned to station one squadron (20 aircraft) of F-15s modified for the ASAT 

mission at McChord AFB, WA, and another squadron at Langley AFB, VA. 

161 An air-launched, direct-assent ASAT system has significantly greater operational 

flexibility in rapidly attacking many types of LEO than does a ground-launched system 

with a limited number of fixed launch points. With air-refueling, an F-15 has a range of 

approximately 5000 nautical miles and can attack satellites from virtually an unlimited 

number of locations whereas a ground-launched system must wait for the target satellite 

to pass within range overhead. The drawbacks of an air-launched system include the 

significant difficulties in command and control for this type of operation and the weight 
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(and therefore range) limitations imposed by the payload capability of the aircraft launch 

platform. “Space Systems Glossary” in Military Uses of Space, 165. 162 Stares, Militarization of Space, 222-23. 163 Ibid., 223; and “Soviets Stage Integrated Test of Weapons,” Aviation Week & Space 

Technology, 28 June 1982, 21. This final Soviet ASAT test was only a small part of a 

coordinated strategic exercise which included test launches of two ICBMs, two ABMs, 

one SLBM, and one SS-20 IRBM, as well as the launch of a navigation and 

photoreconnaissance satellite which may have simulated the reconstitution of “Soviet 

satellites negated by Allied forces during the war scenario.” This test was similar to but 

more comprehensive than an earlier Soviet strategic forces test on 16 February 1976. 

The U.S. has never conducted a similar comprehensive test of its strategic forces 

involving actual test firings. On this test see also Nicholas L. Johnson, The Soviet Year 

in Space, 1982 (Colorado Springs: Teledyne Brown Engineering, 1983), 25. Johnson is 

the source of the quote above. 

164 See Rebecca V. Strode, “Commentary on the Soviet Draft Space Treaty of 1981,” in 

Gray, American Military Space Policy, 85-91; and Stares, Militarization of Space, 229-

30. Strode concludes that “[t]he Soviet Union may have presented the Draft Treaty 

merely for propaganda benefit.” According to Stares, “[t]he Reagan Administration 

dismissed the Soviet draft treaty as a hypocritical propaganda ploy.” One of the few 

specific prohibitions in this draft treaty was against carrying weapons “on reusable 

manned space vehicles,” an obvious reference to the Space Shuttle. The Soviet 1981 

draft treaty is reprinted in Gray, 115-17. 

165 Quoted in Stares, Militarization of Space, 231. 166 The divergent responses to this Soviet ASAT arms control initiative provide an 

excellent example of the generally polarized and contentious broad strategic setting for 

arms control during this period. The ASAT issue was a relatively minor element of the 

overall strategic setting but was largely shaped by perceptions related to this overall 

situation. The group who saw considerable utility in general arms control efforts and 

the use of arms control to curtail U.S. military space efforts was spearheaded by 

individuals such as Senators Larry Pressler (D.-SD) and Paul E. Tsongas (D.-MA); 

Representatives Norman D. Dicks (D.-WA), Les AuCoin (D.-OR), and George E. 

Brown, Jr. (D.-CA); space policy analyst Paul B. Stares; and Federation of American 

Scientists Spokesman John E. Pike and was willing to overlook the potential problems 

in this second draft treaty in order to get space-related arms control efforts restarted. By 

contrast, many top members of Reagan's Administration in arms control-related 

positions such as Under Secretary of Defense for Policy Fred C. Iklé, Assistant 

Secretary of Defense for International Security Policy Richard N. Perle, and ACDA 

Director Kenneth L. Adelman were skeptical of arms control in general and of spacerelated arms control in particular due to the asymmetries caused by the Soviet lead in 

ASAT weapons, the difficulties in crafting and verifying any ASAT arms control 

agreement, and the U.S. lead in most areas of space-related technology. 167 Bilateral arms control negotiations had been suspended in December 1983 following 

the Soviet walkout from the INF negotiations in response to the first NATO 

deployments of these systems. Following the signing of the INF Treaty in December 
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1987 and START I in July 1991, the Defense and Space Talks remain the only one of 

the three negotiations begun in March 1985 in which a major agreement has not been 

reached—another illustration of the extremely difficult technical, political, and 

conceptual challenges facing arms control in this area. 

168 U.S. Congress, Senate, Committee on Foreign Relations, Subcommittee on Arms 

Control, Oceans, International Operations and Environment, Arms Control and the 

Militarization of Space: Hearing before the Subcommittee on Arms Control, Oceans, 

International Operations and Environment, 97th Cong., 2nd sess., 20 September 1982. 

(Hereinafter SFRC, “Arms Control and Militarization of Space”). 

169 SFRC, “Arms Control and Militarization of Space,” 11-12. 170 SFRC, “Controlling Space Weapons.” The principle administration witnesses at 

these hearings were ACDA Director Adelman and Under Secretary of Defense for 

Policy Iklé. 

171 Ibid., 8. 172 Stares, Militarization of Space, 232. 173 Ibid., 232-33. This withholding of the $19.4 million in advanced procurement 

funding for the MHV ASAT in FY 1984 until 45 days after the administration’s report 

was submitted to Congress was also known as the McHugh amendment. See Under 

Secretary Aldridge testimony in U.S. Congress, House, Committee on Armed Services, 

Defense Department Authorization and Oversight for Fiscal Year 1985: Hearings 

before the Committee on Armed Services, Part 2, 98th Cong., 2nd sess., 1984, 30. 

(Hereinafter HASC, “DOD Authorization, FY 85”). 174 Executive Office of the President, “Report to Congress: U.S. Policy on ASAT Arms 

Control,” 31 March 1984; microfiche document 00075 in Military Uses of Space. 

(Hereinafter “ASAT AC Policy Report to Congress, 84”). This is the unclassified 

version of the report; a more detailed classified version was also delivered to Congress 

at the same time. 

175 Ibid., 9. The ASAT arms control problem areas listed included: verification, 

breakout, disclosure of information, definitions, vulnerability of satellite support 

systems, and the Soviet non-weapon military space threat. Assistant Director of ACDA, 

Dr. Henry F. Cooper, and Deputy Under Secretary of Defense for Strategic and Theater 

Nuclear Forces, T.K. Jones, did most of the drafting of the report. The Services were 

not principle participants in any of the discussions leading to this report but they did, 

along with the CIA, draft the appendices in the classified version of the report. 

176 HASC, “DOD Authorization, FY 85,” 9. At these hearings, Representative Kramer 

indicated “I think the decision was made internally, as I understand it, within the 

Department or within the Air Force not to engage in a floor fight on this [the Tsongas 

and McHugh amendments].” Aldridge basically agreed that this had been the approach 

of the DOD but added that DOD had “attempted to try to provide —I guess you would 

call it limit the amount of restraint of the amendment.” Moreover, Aldridge indicated 

that the Air Force was interpreting the Tsongas amendment “as a permanent law” and 

later added “we believe we can live with it in spite of those conditions.” Quotes from 

pages 29-32. 

177 Stares, Militarization of Space, 233. 
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 178 The Air Force Space Test Program satellite P78-1 was an experimental system 

launched in February 1979 that was designed to study the sun’s corona. P78-1 was still 

operational in a LEO between 319 to 335 nautical miles in altitude when it was 

destroyed by the MHV. 

179 On 12 December, immediately prior to this new and much more serious restriction, 

the Air Force had placed two instrumented target vehicle (ITV) satellites into LEO of 

approximately 200 by 480 nautical mile orbits. See “Launch Listing” in Military Uses 

of Space, 118-19. These ITVs cost $20 million, had a limited lifetime, and were 

specifically designed to provide data on MHV intercepts, see Michael R. Gordon, “Air 

Force to Test a Weapon in Space,” New York Times, 20 February 1986, p. A18. For a 

discussion of a possible Soviet violation of their self-imposed moratorium that took 

place on 21 June 1985, see James E. Oberg, “A Mysterious Soviet Space Launch,” Wall 

Street Journal, 21 January 1986, p. 16. Oberg is the author of several major books on 

the Soviet space program including Red Star in Orbit (New York: Random House, 

1981). 

180 Gordon, “Air Force to Test Weapon in Space.” 181 “Chronology” in Military Uses of Space, 59; and “Anti-Satellite System Tested 

Successfully,” Los Angeles Times, 23 August 1986, p. 24. The 30 September 1986 test 

marked the fifth and final test of the MHV system in space. Of course, since this system 

was not designed to lock onto the infrared energy of stars it is difficult to determine 

from open sources just how useful or “successful” such tests might have been. 

182 Representatives AuCoin, Brown, and Dicks continued to spearhead the restrictive 

amendments for FYs 87 and 88. 

183 Colonel Charles E. Heimack, Department of the Air Force, HQ USAF, “Point Paper 

on Antisatellite (ASAT) Study,” 27 October 1986; microfiche document 00081 in 

Military Uses of Space, lists specific congressional restrictions on MHV development 

and testing for FY 87. Total expenditures were limited to $200 million versus the $324 

million requested and funds for long lead missile components and the mission control 

center were completely eliminated. Additionally, this point paper indicated that NSSD 

4-86 called for a thorough exploration of U.S. ASAT options and was signed by 

President Reagan on 20 October 1986. Heimack is apparently quoting from study 

directive 4-86 when he indicates that the air-launched ASAT is “a good first step[.]” but 

notes that “[s]upport has eroded due to high costs, limited capability.” Finally, this point 

paper also indicates that a report from Secretary Weinberger to the president on “AirLaunched ASAT continuation/alternative program options” was due no later than 12 

December 1986. 

184 “Defense Department Unveils $1.2-Billion ASAT Restructuring Plan,” Aviation 

Week & Space Technology, 16 March 1987, 19-21; Rudy Abramson, “New Space 

Satellite-Killer Tests Planned,” Los Angeles Times, 11 March 1987, p. 11. Although not 

specifically stated, this restructured ASAT program was apparently the result of the 

ASAT report submitted by Weinberger in December 1986. 

185 “$1.2 Billion ASAT Restructuring Plan,” 20. These plans called for a study to 

compare using a more powerful first stage booster on the air-launched MHV system 

with switching to a much larger ground-launched system using a modified Pershing 2 
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booster. Rankine indicated that doubling the range of the MHV would give the U.S. the 

about same ASAT range capability already demonstrated by the Soviets (approximately 

700 miles). The third part of the overall ASAT restructuring plan called for a joint 

project with SDIO “to develop an excimer laser system for use against satellites.” 

186 Abramson, “New Satellite-Killer Tests Planned,” the interior quote is from Rankine. 187 “Chronology” in Military Uses of Space, 60. A 1990 DOD report to Congress listed 

three “key negative factors [which] culminated in a decision to terminate the F-15 

ALMV program in March 1988: (1) severe Congressional funding reductions in the 

program over a 3 year period; (2) continuing Congressional testing prohibitions on the 

ALMV that would not permit confidence for an effective operational system, and 

diminished prospects for future support; and (3) limited capability for system growth to 

meet expanded threats at higher altitudes.” See U.S. Department of Defense, “AntiSatellite: A Report to Congress,” February 1990, 2-4. (Hereinafter “ASAT Report to 

Congress, 90”). 

188 “Chronology” in Military Uses of Space, 61. Following the Air Force’s cancellation 

of the MHV, both the Army and the Navy expressed considerable interest in developing 

ground- or sea-launched ASAT systems. According to “Navy space officials,” the Navy 

“is the only service that has a defined mission for the ASAT—the requirement of fleet 

commanders to be able to eliminate low-orbiting Soviet satellites used to target U.S. 

ships,” see “Pentagon Preparing to Restart Antisatellite Program in January,” Aviation 

Week & Space Technology, 14 November 1988, 33-34. On 13 December 1989 the 

Defense Acquisition Board (DAB) selected four candidate KEW ASAT system designs 

from which Under Secretary of Defense for Acquisition (USD(A)) Robert B. Costello 

selected “a land-based system with the minimum scope to meet USCINCSPACE’s 

highest priority ASAT mission needs.” See “ASAT Report to Congress, 90,” vi. The 

initial Army ASAT system proposed for this program was canceled in December 1990, 

see “Chronology” in Military Uses of Space, 62 

CRS Space Analyst Marcia S. Smith provides the best short description of other 

U.S. ASAT activity following the cancellation of the MHV (Smith, “U.S. Space 

Programs: Civilian, Military, and Commercial, CRS-11 and 12): “As for ASAT 

development, the Clinton Administration terminated a program to develop a groundbased kinetic-energy ASAT (“KEAsat”) interceptor in 1993, permitting only 

technology studies. Congress revived the program in FY1996, however, adding $30 

million that year, $50 million in FY1997, and $37.5 million in FY1998. President 

Clinton line-item vetoed the $37.5 million on the basis that DOD has other ASAT 

options and did not need the KEAsat program. After the Supreme Court rejected the 

line-item veto that money was restored to DOD, and the conference report on the 

FY1999 DOD authorization bill (H.R. 3616, H.Rept. 105-736) directed DOD to 

obligate the funds promptly. However, Congress apparently was persuaded that 

there are other methods for achieving the objective of space control, and stated that 

DOD could use some of that money for other space control technologies and added 

$15 million for space control technologies for FY1999. For FY2000, the 

administration requested no funding for KEAsat, and $9.8 million for Air Force 

space control technologies. Congress added $7.5 million for KEAsat (in the defense-
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wide [research, development, testing, and engineering] RDT&E budget), and $3 

million for Air Force space control technology. For FY2001, Congress approved the 

$9.7 million requested for Air Force space control technology, and added $3 million 

for Army space control technology development (none was requested). The FY2001 

DOD authorization act (P.L. 106-398) specifies that the $3 million is to be allocated 

to KEAsat. In a December 5, 2000 letter report (GAO-01-228R) to Senator Smith, 

GAO stated that the program was in disarray, and the $7.5 million in FY2000 

funding had not been released because there was no agreement on a spending plan 

for the program. Defense Daily reported on February 7, 2001 (page 4) that Senator 

Smith and the Army had reached agreement and the Army would complete the 

manufacture of three KEAsat kill vehicles. The April 6, 2001 edition of Aerospace 

Daily, however, reports that Senator Smith remains dissatisfied with the Army’s 

management of the program. Meanwhile, General Eberhart, Commander in Chief of 

U.S. Space Command, expressed reservations about using KEAsats because of the 

collateral damage that could be inflicted on U.S. government and commercial 

satellites, describing KEAsats as a “last ditch option” (Aerospace Daily, March 29, 

2001). Among the alternatives to the KEAsat is a ground-based laser called 

MIRACL (Mid-Infrared Advanced Chemical Laser) in New Mexico. A longstanding congressional restriction in DOD authorization bills prohibiting the use of 

MIRACL against targets in space expired in FY1996. On October 2, 1997, DOD 

Secretary William Cohen approved a test use of MIRACL against an Air Force 

satellite (MSTI-3). The test was conducted on October 17, 1997. DOD insists it was 

a defensive test designed to assess the satellite’s vulnerability to laser attack. Others 

view it as a test of an offensive antisatellite capability.” 

189 For example, Secretary Weinberger’s Annual Report for FY 1986 did not even 

mention the congressional restrictions placed on the MHV thus far. The Annual Report 

for FY 1988 unrealistically did its best to try to ignore the deleterious effects which the 

congressional restrictions had already caused for the MHV program: “In FY 1988, 

building on the results from our successful test program, we will begin producing the 

[MHV] missiles. Further congressional restrictions on ASAT testing will, however, 

needlessly delay attaining an operational capability with the system.” See U.S. 

Department of Defense, Annual Report to the Congress, Fiscal Year 1986 (Washington: 

GPO, 1985), 60-61, 215; and Annual Report to the Congress, Fiscal Year 1988

(Washington: GPO, 1987), 214. 

190 In an extensive interview in July 1986, Aldridge discussed several space issues in 

considerable depth, but did not even mention the MHV ASAT program. See Edgar 

Ulsamer, “Aldridge on the Issues,” Air Force Magazine 69 (July 1986): 84-89. Note 

also that the Air Force Association (AFA) also did not even mention the MHV ASAT it 

its 1986-87 Statement of Policy adopted on 15 September 1986. This policy statement 

is reprinted as “Government’s First Responsibility,” in Air Force Magazine 69 

(November 1986): 6-9. 

191 Treaty Between The United States Of America And The Union Of Soviet 

Socialist Republics On The Reduction And Limitation Of Strategic Offensive Arms 

(START I), signed 31 July 1991, entered into force 5 December 1994. Most of the 
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discussion and analysis on START I and II below is drawn directly from Billick, 

“Arms Control Implications for Military Operations in Space,” 24-30. Lt Col Billick 

developed his outstanding analysis after working START I and II issues while 

serving at the Nuclear and Counterproliferation Directorate on the Air Staff. 

192 “Paragraph 2 of Article IX in START I is adopted verbatim from paragraph 2 of 

Article XII of the ABM Treaty and is essentially identical to subparagraph 2(a) of 

Article XII of the INF Treaty. It prohibits each Party from interfering with the 

national technical means of verification of the other Party operating in accordance 

with paragraph 1 of Article IX. This means, for example, that a Party cannot 

destroy, blind, jam, or otherwise interfere with the national technical means of 

verification of the other Party that are used in a manner consistent with generally 

recognized principles of international law. Note that while paragraph 2 of Article IX 

prohibits interference with national technical means, the prohibition on interference 

with inspectors during inspections is in the Inspection Protocol.” See “Article-byArticle Analysis of Treaty Text” available at 

http://www.state.gov/www/global/arms/starthtm/start/abatext.html#IX. 

193 Ibid. 

194 See the discussion of FOBS in the OST Regime section above. 

195 START I, Paragraph 4 of Article IV provides limits on ICBMs and SLBMs used 

for delivering objects into the upper atmosphere or space. The Parties recognized 

that such use of ICBMs and SLBMs is valid and economical, but they also 

recognized that such use must be limited because such missiles could also be used 

for their original purpose of weapons delivery. In order to limit the potential for 

breakout, paragraph 4 limits each Party to no more than five space launch facilities, 

which are defined as specified facilities from which objects are delivered into the 

upper atmosphere or space using ICBMs or SLBMs. Paragraph 4 also provides that 

these facilities may not overlap ICBM bases; limits each Party to a total of no more 

than 20 ICBM or SLBM launchers at those facilities, of which no more than ten may 

be silo and mobile launchers, unless otherwise agreed; and limits the number of 

ICBMs or SLBMs at a given space launch facility to no more than the number of 

launchers at that facility. Space launch facilities are not subject to inspection. The 

number of space launch facilities and the number of launchers at those facilities may 

be increased or decreased if the Parties agree. Such changes would not require an 

amendment to the Treaty. These treaty provisions also affect tensions in the 

commercial space sector between launch service users such as satellite builders and 

launch service providers. In general, the former have advocated greater use of 

deactivated ballistic missiles for space launch while the latter do not support such use 

because it has the potential to flood the market with deactivated ballistic missiles 

used as space launchers. 

196 START I, Article X and the Telemetry Protocol. During the Cold War, the 

United States invested billions of dollars in intelligence gathering equipment 

designed primarily to obtain telemetry data on Soviet ballistic missiles. Gathering 

and analyzing this information was among the most difficult intelligence challenges 

of the Cold War. 
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 197 Agreement Between The United States Of America And The Union Of Soviet 

Socialist Republics On Notifications Of Launches Of Intercontinental Ballistic 

Missiles And Submarine-Launched Ballistic Missiles (Ballistic Missile Launch 

Notification Agreement), signed at Moscow 31 May 1988, entered into force 31 May 

1988. 

198 START I Article by Article legal analysis makes specific reference to the 

National Aerospace Plane in describing the Treaty definition of “airplane” and the 

Treaty prohibition against flight-testing, equipping, and deploying nuclear 

armaments on an airplane that was not initially constructed as a bomber but has a 

range of 8000 km or more or an integrated planform area over 310 square meters. 

However, the Parties did not reach agreement on the applicability of the Treaty to 

future non-nuclear systems. During the negotiations, the United States stated its view 

that a future non-nuclear system could not be considered a new kind of strategic 

offensive arm and, thus, would not be subject to the Treaty. The Soviet Union did 

not accept this view. The Parties agreed, in the Second Agreed Statement, that, if 

“new kinds” of arms emerge in the future and if the Parties disagree about whether 

they are strategic offensive arms, then such arms would be subject to discussion in 

the Joint Compliance and Inspection Commission. Of course, if one Party deploys a 

new kind of arm that it asserts is not subject to the Treaty, and the other Party 

challenges this assertion, the deploying Party would be obligated to attempt to 

resolve the issue. There is, however, no obligation to delay deployment pending such 

resolution. 

199 Treaty Between the United States of America and the Russian Federation on 

Further Reduction and Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms (START II), signed 3 

January 1993. The U.S. Senate provided its advice and consent to ratification of 

START II on 26 January 1996. The Russian Duma completed ratification on 14 

April 2000 with conditions. U.S. Senate review of the modified treaty is pending. 200 Memorandum of Agreement Between the United States of America and the 

Russian Federation on the Establishment of a Joint Center for the Exchange of Data 

from Early Warning Systems and Notifications of Missile Launches (JDEC MOA), 

signed in Moscow and entered into force on 4 June 2000. According to the fact sheet 

released about the MOA: “This agreement—which is the first time the United States 

and Russia have agreed to a permanent joint operation involving U.S. and Russian 

military personnel—is a significant milestone in ensuring strategic stability between 

the United States and Russia. It establishes a Joint Data Exchange Center (JDEC) in 

Moscow for the exchange of information derived from each side’s missile launch 

warning systems on the launches of ballistic missiles and space launch vehicles. The 

exchange of this data will strengthen strategic stability by further reducing the 

danger that ballistic missiles might be launched on the basis of false warning of 

attack. It will also promote increased mutual confidence in the capabilities of the 

ballistic missile early warning systems of both sides. The JDEC will build upon the 

successful establishment and operation during the millennium rollover of the 

temporary joint center for Y2K Strategic Stability in Colorado Springs. The JDEC 

will be staffed 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with American and Russian 
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personnel. The JDEC is also intended to serve as the repository for the notifications 

to be provided as part of an agreed system for exchanging pre-launch notifications on 

the launches of ballistic missiles and space launch vehicles. This agreement is 

currently being negotiated separately.” Available from 

http://www.clw.org/coalition/summit060400launch.htm. 

At least implicitly, the JDEC is one response to the potentially dangerous 

weaknesses the United States perceives in the post-Cold War Russian Federation 

strategic early warning system. The most chilling example of this took place on 25 

January 1995 when the Russian strategic command and control system was activated 

after computers mistakenly identified a Norwegian research rocket launch as an 

attacking U.S. Trident II SLBM. Reportedly, the Russians raised their nuclear alert 

status and President Boris Yeltsin was prepared to activate his nuclear launch codes 

out of the Russian version of the “football” before the situation was reassessed and 

the alert status decreased back to normal several minutes later. See Nikolai Sokov, 

“Could Norway Trigger a Nuclear War? Notes on the Russian Command and 

Control System,” Program on New Approaches to Russian Security Policy Memo 

Series, Memo Number 24, available from 

http://www.fas.harvard.edu/~ponars/POLICY%20MEMOS/Sokovmemo2.html; and 

Center for Security Policy Decision Brief, 21 November 2000, “Clinton Legacy 

Watch #50: Stealthy Accord With Russia Threatens to Foreclose U.S. Space Power,” 

available from http://www.security-policy.org/papers/2000/00-D91.html. 201 Memorandum of Understanding on Notifications of Missile Launches (PLNS 

MOU), signed 16 December 2000. 

202 On the spectrum of opinion concerning the JDEC and PLNS see, for example, 

John Steinbruner, “Sharing Missile Launch Data,” Pugwash Online, available from 

http://www.pugwash.org/publication/nl/nlv38n1/essay-steinbruner.htm; and 

“National Security Alert,” Center for Security Policy, 8 December 2000, available 

from http://www.security-policy.org/papers/2000/00-A44.html. 

203 There are, of course, a virtually unlimited number of ways in which space 

viewpoints can be delineated and grouped together. These four camps are presented 

from a U.S. national security perspective; they could also be used for analysis at the 

global security level. There are also many strands of thought within any of these 

camps and some of them might even be contradictory. The four camps presented 

here are similar to Lupton’s four space doctrines discussed above and are derived 

from the schools of thought about space weaponization discussed in Hays and 

Mueller, “Going Boldly—Where?” Moreover, the growing importance of 

commercial space activity adds a new dimension to this analysis that few of the 

traditional approaches seem well prepared to incorporate or even address. For a 

groundbreaking analysis that advocates using economic criteria to separate 

traditional military space functions from more regulatory functions that would be 

performed by a new United States Space Guard (modeled after the Coast Guard), see 

Lt Col Cynthia A.S. McKinley, “The Guardians of Space: Organizing America’s 

Space Assets for the Twenty-First Century,” Aerospace Power Journal 14, no. 1 

(Spring 2000): 37-45. 
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 204 Senator Bob Smith, “The Challenge of Space Power,” Airpower Journal 13, no. 1 

(Spring 1999): 33. Prominent space hawk groups include High Frontier, the 

Heritage Foundation, and the Center for Security Policy. 205 Space Commission Report, x. Most U.S. space policy, military space doctrine, 

and military officers probably fall into this camp. 

206 Maj William L. Spacy II, USAF, “Does the United States Need Space-Based 

Weapons?” Cadre Paper 4 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, September 

1999), 109. Emphasis in original. See also Maj David W. Zeigler, “Safe Heavens: 

Military Strategy and Space Sanctuary,” in Col Bruce M. DeBlois, ed., Beyond the 

Paths of Heaven: The Emergence of Space Power Thought (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air 

University Press, September 1999), 185-245. 

207 Lt Col Bruce M DeBlois, “Space Sanctuary: A Viable National Strategy,” 

Airpower Journal 12, no. 4 (Winter 1998): 41-57. This article is one of the most 

comprehensive and persuasive expositions of the space dove camp. 

208 Model I (rational actor), Model II (organizational process), and Model III 

(bureaucratic politics) are commonly used lenses for examining governmental 

decision-making that were developed by Graham T. Allison in Essence of Decision: 

Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1971). 

209 See, in particular, the outstanding analysis of trigger events for space 

weaponization in Barry D. Watts, The Military Use of Space: A Diagnostic 

Assessment (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, 

February 2001), 97-106. Watts argues that: “There are at least two paths by which 

orbital space might become a battleground for human conflict. One consists of 

dramatic, hard-to-miss trigger events such as the use of nuclear weapons to attack 

orbital assets. The other class involves more gradual changes such as a series of 

small, seemingly innocuous steps over a period of years that would, only in 

hindsight, be recognized as having crossed the boundary from force enhancement to 

force application. For reasons stemming from the railroad analogy . . . the slippery 

slope of halting, incremental steps toward force application may be the most likely 

path of the two.” Watts discusses high-altitude nuclear detonations (discussed in the 

next section of this essay), failure of nuclear deterrence, and threats to use nuclear 

ballistic missiles during a crisis as the most likely of the dramatic trigger events. For 

Watts, the most likely of the gradual paths to weaponization is illustrated by using 

the development and military implications of railroads as an analogy for space: 

“first, orbital mechanics makes satellites more like railroads than aircraft or capital 

ships; second, the main function of these orbital railroads is to collect and transport 

information to users on earth, particularly information about enemy forces and 

capabilities. If this information collection-and-transport use is the main value of 

satellite systems, then it follows immediately that there are a lot more ways to 

interrupt space-based or space-dependent information flows than physically 

destroying satellites. For instance, if an enemy happened to be deriving military 

information about American force deployments from commercial satellites, an 

entirely non-lethal solution would be to use diplomatic pressure to cut off the 

opponent from further information. Other approaches could range from jamming 
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vulnerable segments of the information chain to using terrestrial forces to interdict 

the satellite ground stations or other nodes through which the information was being 

routed. 

These possibilities have an important implication for our understanding of space 

warfare. If a terrestrial attack on an adversary’s satellite ground station can deny use 

of certain space-dependent information, then it is plausible to argue that capabilities 

for space warfare exist today, even though lethal weapons are not currently deployed 

in orbital space. 

It is not difficult to foresee, then, how nations could begin gradually sliding 

down a slippery slope toward the weaponization of near-earth space without being 

fully cognizant of the eventual end state. Over a period of years nations could engage 

in numerous activities short of outright weaponization that, in the long run, could 

lead to an environment in which the deployment and use of weapons in or from 

space would emerge as a logical and natural next step. Consider the following 

activities: 

• using earth-based lasers to dazzle the optical arrays of electro-optical imaging 

reconnaissance satellites whenever they appear above the horizon; 

• active jamming of imaging radar satellites; 

• widespread jamming of GPS location and timing information; 

• positioning satellites in orbit in close proximity with the satellites of one’s 

military, economic or political competitors; 

• the use of satellites with active, high-power radars to degrade the electronics of 

adversary satellites; and 

• capturing or corrupting the data streams to or from competitors’ satellites.” 210 The single best and most up to date source on this threat are the “High Altitude 

Nuclear Detonations (HAND) Against Low Earth Orbit Satellites (‘HALEOS’)” 

Slides, Advanced Systems and Concepts Office, Defense Threat Reduction Agency, 

April 2001, available from http://www.dtra.mil/about/organization/haleos.ppt. 

(Hereinafter HALEOS Slides). One of the key findings of this study is: “One lowyield (10-20 kt), high-altitude (125-300 km) nuclear explosion could disable—in 

weeks to months—all LEO satellites not specifically hardened to withstand radiation 

generated by that explosion.” Slide 4, emphasis in original. This study estimated 

replacement costs in excess of $50 billion for all the systems potentially disabled by 

a HAND (Globalstar, OrbComm, Iridium, Teledesic, Skybridge, Weather Satellites, 

Commercial imaging and mapping satellites, and research systems such as the 

International Space Station and the Hubble Space Telescope). Slides 17-22. Other 

detailed open source discussions of these phenomena are found in Samuel Glasstone 

and Philip J. Dolan, The Effects of Nuclear Weapons, Third Edition, (Washington, 

D.C.: Department of Defense and Department of Energy, 1977), 350-353, 383-385, 

474-478, and 514-540; Lupton, On Space Warfare, 71-75; Bruce G. Blair, Strategic 

Command and Control: Redefining the Nuclear Threat (Washington, D.C.: Brookings 

Institution, 1985), Appendix C, “Electromagnetic Pulse,” and Appendix D, “Satellite 

Vulnerability to System-Generated EMP,” 321-331; Ashton B. Carter, “Communication 

Technologies and Vulnerabilities,” in Ashton B. Carter, John D. Steinbruner, and 
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Charles A. Zraket, eds., Managing Nuclear Operations (Washington, D.C.: Brookings 

Institution, 1987), 217-281; Watts, Military Use of Space, 19, 98-102; and Tom Wilson, 

Threats to United States Space Capabilities,” Staff Paper for the Commission to Assess 

United States National Security Space Management and Organization, available from 

https://www.space.gov/commission/support-docs/article05/article05.html. 211 Kenneth F. McKenzie, Jr., “The Revenge of the Melians: Asymmetric Threats 

and the Next QDR,” McNair Paper 62 (Washington, D.C.: Institute for National 

Strategic Studies, National Defense University, 2000), 38. One factor that might 

devalue HAND in the minds of terrorists is the fact that such an attack would lack 

the type of powerful visual imagery produced by the 11 September 2001 terrorist 

attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. 

212 The damage caused to satellites in line of sight by prompt X-rays decreases with 

the inverse square of the distance between the satellite and the explosion (1/R2

). 

HALEOS Slide 9. 

213 The cumulative effects are caused when unstable nuclear fission fragments decay, 

emitting electrons that are trapped in the Earth’s magnetic field and increase the peak 

radiation flux in parts of LEO by 3-4 orders of magnitude. The predicted lifetime of 

LEO satellites drops precipitously following a HAND; for example, an Iridium 

satellite would go from having a 72-month normal lifetime to about one month. The 

lower Van Allen radiation belt would remain “excited” for six months to two years. 

See Watts, Military Use of Space, 99; and HALEOS Slides 9-12. 214 Although not directly analogous, consider the range of predictions concerning the 

Y2K computer software problem. Different initial assumptions can drive even the 

best models to widely divergent results; this is especially true when attempting to 

model systemic effects for complex, interdependent systems. Wilson lists “Reliable 

Threat Analyses” as his first strategy for enhancing satellite survivability, 41. 

215 Glasstone and Dolan, The Effects of Nuclear Weapons, 45; and Stares, 

Militarization of Space, 107-8. The major tests and series included: The 

HARDTACK Series above Johnson Island in the Pacific consisting of TEAK (1 

August 1958, 48 miles altitude), and ORANGE (12 August 1958, 27 miles); the 

ARGUS Operation in the South Atlantic in September 1958 consisting of three 1-2 

kiloton bursts from 125-300 miles altitude; and the FISHBOWL Series above 

Johnson Island consisting of STARFISH PRIME (9 July 1962, 248 miles, 1.4 

megatons) and three subsequent submegaton devices in October and November of 

1962. Significant ground communication disruptions were recorded in Hawaii (700 

miles away) following the STARFISH PRIME detonation and this explosion also 

eventually caused the failure of seven satellites in LEO at the time of the test. 

216 Stares, Militarization of Space, 107. 217 HALEOS Slide 31, emphasis in original. 218 Watts, Military Uses of Space, 101. 

219 This escalatory ladder is imbedded in Office of the Secretary of Defense, 

Proliferation: Threat and Response (Washington, D.C.: Department of Defense, 

November 1997); and is fleshed out in Hays, Jodoin, and Van Tassel, Countering 
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WMD. The latest version of Proliferation: Threat and Response was published in 

January 2001. 

220 Anti-western groups or states might view the destruction of the global information 

infrastructure as a desirable outcome regardless of (or perhaps because of) their level 

of connectivity with this infrastructure. Positive security assurances are 

commitments to come to the aid of states that have forsworn WMD but are being 

threatened with their use. Negative security assurances are commitments not to use 

WMD against states that do not have them. See Ronald F. Lehman, “Reassurance 

and Dissuasion: Countering the Motivation to Acquire WMD,” in Hays, Jodoin, and 

Van Tassel, Countering WMD, 89-120. 221 At a minimum, it would seem prudent for the United States to specify both the 

types of “purposeful interference” that would trigger an automatic response and to 

spell out what the response options might include in order to strengthen the rather 

milk-toast statement in its current space policy: “Purposeful interference with space 

systems shall be viewed as an infringement on sovereign rights.” National Science 

and Technology Council, “Fact Sheet: National Space Policy,” (Washington, D.C.: 

The White House, 19 September 1996). 

222 Wilson, “Threats to U.S. Space Capabilities,” 43. 223 HALEOS Slide 30. 224 Three U.S. firms—Space Imaging, EarthWatch, and OrbImage—are developing 

high-resolution commercial remote sensing systems (Ikonos, QuickBird, and 

OrbView, respectively) and they face significant foreign competition from systems 

such as SPOT, the Indian Remote Sensing (IRS) satellites (marketed by Space 

Imaging), and EROS (an Israeli-U.S. joint venture). Ikonos 1 failed to reach orbit 

following its launch from Vandenberg AFB on 27 April 1999. The first commercial 

one-meter resolution remote sensing system became operational following the 

successful launch of the Ikonos 2 satellite aboard a Lockheed-Martin Athena II 

booster from Vandenberg AFB on 24 September 1999. See Vernon Loeb, “Spy 

Satellite Will Take Photos for Public Sale,” Washington Post, 25 September 1999, 3. 

The Ikonos system can provide resolutions of 0.82 meters ground sample distance 

per pixel for digitized panchromatic images and four meters for multispectral 

images. EarthWatch’s QuickBird 1 was launched aboard a Cosmos 3M expendable 

launch vehicle (ELV) from Plesetsk on 21 November 2000 but failed to reach the 

proper orbit and was presumed destroyed. Jason Bates, “QuickBird Loss Hits Firm, 

Remote Sensing Industry,” Space News, 4 December 2000, 3. ImageSat (formerly 

West Indian Space)—a joint venture between two Israeli companies (Israel Aircraft 

Industries and Electro-Optics Industries) and Core Software of Pasadena, 

California—successfully launched its EROS A1 0.82-meter resolution system (that is 

derived from Israel’s Ofeq 3 spysat) aboard a Start 1 ELV from Svobodni, Siberia on 

5 December 2000. ImageSat “does not believe it is subject to U.S. jurisdiction 

regarding export licenses.” See “West Indian Space Changes Name to ImageSat, 

Announces Product Offerings,” SPACEandTECH Digest, on-line, Internet, 23 

January 2001, available from http://www.spaceandtech.com/digest/sd2000-

22/sd2000-22-007.shtml; and ImageSat’s website, http://www.imagesatintl.com. In 
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December 2000, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) 

awarded the first two half-meter resolution licenses to Space Imaging and 

EarthWatch. The half-meter licenses “contain a provision that calls for a 24-hour 

delay from collection of an image to distribution to a customer.” See Jason Bates, 

“U.S. approves Licenses for Two Imaging Satellites with Half-Meter Resolution,” 

Space.com, 18 December 2000, on-line, Internet, 19 December 2000, available from 

http://www.space.com/businesstechnology/business/satellite_licenses_001212.html. 

 EarthWatch’s corporate roots go back to WorldView Imaging (the first licensee 

for a high-resolution commercial system) and Ball Aerospace. Space Imaging’s 

lineage includes the Eosat, Lockheed-Martin, and Raytheon corporations. In 

addition, from the 1950s until losing a $4.5 billion NRO Future Imagery 

Architecture (FIA) contract to Boeing in 1999, Lockheed had been the NRO’s 

primary spysat contractor. See Tim Smart, “Lockheed Loses Big U.S. Contract,” 

Washington Post, 8 September 1999, E1. OrbImage is a corporate affiliate of the 

Orbital Sciences Corporation. According to the Commercial Space Opportunities 

Study (CSOS), the Air Force spends $10 million annually on commercial imagery 

(this includes the innovative Eagle Vision activities); the report recommends that 

spending be increased to $80 million annually for each year in the Future Years 

Defense Program (FYDP). Headquarters Space and Missile System Center, 

Developmental Planning Directorate and Headquarters Air Force Space Command, 

Directorate for Plans and Programs, Final Report: Commercial Space Opportunities 

Study (Los Angeles AFB, CA: Commercial Exploitation Planning Office, 16 

February 2000), 3-13. 

 On the security implications of high-resolution commercial remote sensing see 

Yahya A. Dehqanzada and Ann M. Florini, Secrets for Sale: How Commercial 

Satellite Imagery Will Change the World (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment 

for International Peace, 2000); Gerald M. Steinberg, “Dual Use Aspects of 

Commercial High-Resolution Imaging Satellites,” Security and Policy Studies No. 

37, (Bar-Ilan University, Israel: Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies, February 

1998); and Vipin Gupta, “New Satellite Images for Sale,” International Security 20 

(Summer 1995): 94-125. 

225 “Pursuant to the 1992 Land Remote Sensing Policy Act and Administration 

policy on foreign access to remote sensing space capabilities, responsibilities have 

been delegated from the Secretary of Commerce to the Assistant Administrator of 

NOAA’s National Environmental Satellite, Data, and Information Service 

(NOAA/NESDIS) for the licensing of companies to operate private space-based 

remote sensing systems.” See NOAA Commercial Remote Sensing Satellite 

Systems website at http://www.licensing.noaa.gov/. As of January 2001, NOAA had 

granted a total of 17 licenses. The text of PDD-23 remains classified but a press 

release and fact sheet accompanied the directive. The press release quoted Vice 

President Al Gore on the many advantages of improved resolution for benign civil 

applications and environmental monitoring and the importance of the $15 billion 

total annual worldwide market for remote sensing data and applications that was 

expected to develop by the year 2000. The fact sheet covers the specifics of PDD-23 
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in considerable detail and is available on-line from 

http://www.fas.org/irp/offdocs/pdd23-2.htm. For detailed background and analysis 

on this issue see, Lt Col Peter L. Hays and Lt Col Roy F. Houchin, II, “Commercial 

Spysats and Shutter Control: The Military Implications of U.S. Policy on Selling and 

Restricting Commercial Remote Sensing Data,” paper prepared for the USAF 

Institute for National Security Studies, 1 October 1999; and Lt Col Peter L. Hays, 

“Transparency, Stability, and Deception: Military Implications of Commercial High 

Resolution Remote Sensing Satellites in Theory and Practice,” Paper Presented at the 

International Studies Association Annual Convention, Chicago, 21-24 February 

2001.. 

226 Report of the National Commission for the Review of the National 

Reconnaissance Office, The NRO at the Crossroads (Washington, D.C.: National 

Commission for the Review of the National Reconnaissance Office, 1 November 

2000), quotations from pages 67, 74, and 71. 

227 Report of the Independent Commission on the National Imagery and Mapping 

Agency, The Information Edge: Imagery Intelligence and Geospatial Information in 

an Evolving National Security Environment (Washington, D.C.: Independent 

Commission on the National Imagery and Mapping Agency, December 2000), 

quotations from pages viii, 60, and 33. 

228 Ibid., 56. 

229 Ibid., 16. On DOD’s pledge to buy $1 billion worth of commercial imagery over 

the FYDP see, for example, Warren Ferster, “U.S. to Buy Private Imagery for 

Intelligence,” Space News, 12 April 1999, 1 and 34. 230 The Information Edge, 89. 231 Ibid., 90. 232 Steven Livingston, “Transparency or Opacity? Information Technology and 

Deception Operations,” paper presented at the International Studies Association 

Annual Convention, Chicago, 21-24 Feb 2001. Livingston’s quotation is from Don 

E. Tomlinson, “Computer Manipulation and Creation of Images and Sounds: 

Assessing the Impact,” Washington, D.C.: The Annenberg Washington Program, 

1993). See also Ivan Amato, “Lying with Pixels,” Technology Review (July/August 

2000). 

233 Kimberly Amaral, “The Digital Imaging Revolution: Legal Implications and 

Possible Solutions,” available from 

http://www.umassd.edu/Public/People/KAmaral/Thesis/digitalimaging.html. 234 Dehqanzada and Florini, No More Secrets, viii. 235 On 9 June 1999, the Canadian Ministries of Foreign Affairs and Defense 

announced that they had formed an interdepartmental team of experts who are 

charged with developing new “access control” legislation to control Canadian 

commercial remote sensing satellites. The principles guiding the interdepartmental 

team are very similar to PDD-23 and the process of drafting and implementing the 

policy is expected to take up to two years. The News Release and a Backgrounder 

are available at http://198.103.104.118/minpub/Publication.asp?FileSpec=/ 

Min_Pub_Docs/101271.htm. Unlike many other dual-use technologies 
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(pharmaceutical plants, for instance), high-resolution remote sensing systems are 

limited in number, expensive to build, and very difficult to launch or operate 

covertly. They could, therefore, be more easily controlled than many other types of 

dual-use technology. 

236 Kerry Gildea, “NIMA Extends Deal with Space Imaging for Exclusive Imagery 

Over Afghanistan,” Defense Daily, 7 November 2001, 2; “Eye Spy,” The Economist, 

10-16 November 2001; and Pamela Hess, “DOD Won’t Release Pix Until 5 Jan,” 

Washington Times, 7 November 2001. In addition, the French Ministry of Defense 

barred SPOT Image from selling or distributing images of Afghanistan and the 

surrounding regions to anyone except that ministry. “Shutter Control for SPOT Over 

Afghanistan,” Space Newsfeed, 28 October 2001, available from 

http://www.spacenewsfeed.co.uk/2001/28October2001.html. These decisions have 

left Cypress-based ImageSat International as the only company able to provide onemeter commercial imagery of Afghanistan and the surrounding region. Barbara 

Opall-Rome, “U.S. Data Purchase Opens Doors for ImageSat,” Space News, 22 

October 2001, 6. 

237 Lt Gen Bruce Carlson, USAF, “Protecting Global Utilities: Safeguarding the Next 

Millennium’s Space-Based Public Services,” Aerospace Power Journal 14, no. 2 

(Summer 2000): 37. For a more detailed discussion of why GPS does not fit exactly 

into existing categories of “natural monopoly,” “public good,” “utility, ” or “dual-use 

technology” see Scott Pace, et al., The Global Positioning System: Assessing 

National Policies (Washington, D.C.: RAND Critical Technologies Institute, 1995), 

184-89. 

238 Carlson, “Protecting Global Utilities,” 38. All modern “digital compression” 

telecommunication protocols such as time division multiple access (TDMA) or code 

division multiple access (CDMA) require highly accurate timing signals to operate. 

239 Ibid., 37. Emphasis in original. The PanAmSat Corporation’s Galaxy 4 satellite 

failed on 19 May 1998. 

240 John M. Logsdon, “Just Say Wait to Space Power,” Issues in Science and 

Technology (Spring 2001), n.p.; on-line, Internet, 24 April 2001, available from 

http://www.nap.edu/issues/17.3/p_logsdon.htm. 241 USSPACECOM perhaps made this “Flag Follows Trade” argument most strongly 

in Long Range Plan: Implementing USSPACECOM Vision for 2020 (Peterson AFB, 

Colo: U.S. Space Command, Director of Plans, March 1998). 

242 Carlson, “Protecting Global Utilities,” 41. 243 Planetary Defense or the effort to track and eventually defend against potentially 

life threatening near-Earth objects (NEO) that might impact Earth is another highprofile window for cooperation on a space-related issue but it does not appear to be a 

traditional control or regulation effort and is not discussed in this essay. For more 

information about Planetary Defense see, for example, “Preparing for Planetary 

Defense: Detection and Interception of Asteroids on Collision Course with Earth,” 

SPACECAST 2020 Appendix R, available from http://www.au.af.mil/Spacecast/appr/app-r.doc; Air Force 2025 Research Paper, “Planetary Defense: Catastrophic 

Health Insurance for Planet Earth,” available from 
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http://www.au.af.mil/au/2025/volume3/chap16/v3c16-1.htm; and Brigadier General 

S. Pete Worden, NEOs, Planetary Defense and Government: A View from the 

Pentagon,” available from http://www.spaceviews.com/2000/04/article2a.html. 244 “Frequently Asked Questions about Orbital Debris,” NASA-Johnson Space 

Center, Space Science Branch, available at 

http://orbitaldebris.jsc.nasa.gov/faq/faq.html. 

245 Ibid. 246 The European Space Agency estimates that 44 percent of the catalogued orbit 

population (larger than 10 cm) originated from the 129 on-orbit fragmentations 

recorded since 1961. See European Space Agency, “Introduction to Space Debris,” 

available from http://www.esoc.esa.de/external/mso/debris.html; and the Aerospace 

Corporation’s “What is Orbital Debris?” website at 

http://www.aero.org/cords/orbdebris.html. Until fairly recently, several spacefaring 

states (Russia in particular) routinely blew up their satellites at the end of their useful 

life. Inadvertent mixing of propellant and oxidizer and over pressurization of 

residual fuel or batteries are the most common causes of unintentional explosions. 

247 In LEO (less than 2000 km altitude) the average relative velocity at impact is 10 

km per second. At this speed: “An aluminum sphere 1.3 mm in diameter has 

damage potential similar to that of a .22-caliber long rifle bullet. An aluminum 

sphere 1 cm in diameter is comparable to a 400-lb safe traveling at 60 mph. A 

fragment 10 cm long is roughly comparable to 25 sticks of dynamite.” In GSO, 

average relative velocity at impact is much lower (about 200 meters per second) 

because most objects in the geostationary ring move along similar orbits. See “What 

are the Risks of Orbital Debris?” available from 

http://www.aero.org/cords/debrisks.html. 

248 Aerospace Corporation, “What is the Future Trend?” available from 

http://www.aero.org/cords/future.html. The Space Shuttle must infrequently (every 

year or two) maneuver away from known orbital debris. Critical components on the 

International Space Station have been designed to withstand the impact of debris up 

to 1 cm in diameter. 

249 Historic Space Policy documents are available from the Air War College’s Space 

Operations & Resources Gateway, available at 

http://www.au.af.mil/au/awc/awcgate/histpol.htm. The first emphasis on orbital 

debris in National Space Policy came in President Reagan’s 11 February 1988 

National Space Policy and by the Clinton Administration’s 19 September 1996 

National Space Policy, mitigation of orbital debris was a major intersector guideline: 

(7) Space Debris 

(a) The United States will seek to minimize the creation of space debris. 

NASA, the Intelligence Community, and the DoD, in cooperation with the 

private sector, will develop design guidelines for future government 

procurements of spacecraft, launch vehicles, and services. The design and 

operation of space tests, experiments and systems, will minimize or reduce 

accumulation of space debris consistent with mission requirements and cost 

effectiveness. 
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(b) It is in the interest of the U.S. Government to ensure that space debris 

minimization practices are applied by other spacefaring nations and 

international organizations. The U.S. Government will take a leadership role in 

international fora to adopt policies and practices aimed at debris minimization 

and will cooperate internationally in the exchange of information on debris 

research and the identification of debris mitigation options. 250 Leonard David, “Eye in the Sky to Track Space Junk,” Space.com, 7 November 

2000, available from 

http://www.space.com/businesstechnology/technology/space_trafficcontrol_001102.

html. 

251 For a detailed discussion of STCS (especially the technical requirements for such 

a system) see “Space Traffic Control: The Culmination of Improved Space Traffic 

Operations,” SPACECAST 2020, Appendix D, available from 

http://www.au.af.mil/Spacecast/app-d/app-d.html. 
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