Zhenbo Wang, University of Tennessee Half a century after the Apollo astronauts left the last bootprints in lunar dust, the Moon has once again become a destination of fierce ambition and delicate engineering. This time, it’s not just superpowers racing to plant flags, but also private companies, multinational partnerships and robotic scouts aiming to unlock the Moon’s secrets and lay the groundwork for future human return. So far in 2025, lunar exploration has surged forward. Several notable missions have launched toward or landed on the Moon. Each has navigated the long journey through space and the even trickier descent to the Moon’s surface or into orbit with varying degrees of success. Together, these missions reflect both the promise and difficulty of returning to the Moon in this new space race defined by innovation, competition and collaboration. As an aerospace engineer specializing in guidance, navigation and control technologies, I’m deeply interested in how each mission – whether successful or not – adds to scientists’ collective understanding. These missions can help engineers learn to navigate the complexities of space, operate in hostile lunar environments and steadily advance toward a sustainable human presence on the Moon.

Why is landing on the Moon so hard?

Lunar exploration remains one of the most technically demanding frontiers in modern spaceflight. Choosing a landing site involves complex trade-offs between scientific interest, terrain safety and Sun exposure. The lunar south pole is an especially attractive area, as it could contain water in the form of ice in shadowed craters, a critical resource for future missions. Other sites may hold clues about volcanic activity on the Moon or the solar system’s early history. Each mission trajectory must be calculated with precision to make sure the craft arrives and descends at the right time and place. Engineers must account for the Moon’s constantly changing position in its orbit around Earth, the timing of launch windows and the gravitational forces acting on the spacecraft throughout its journey. They also need to carefully plan the spacecraft’s path so that it arrives at the right angle and speed for a safe approach. Even small miscalculations early on can lead to major errors in landing location – or a missed opportunity entirely. Once on the surface, the landers need to survive extreme swings in temperature – from highs over 250 degrees Fahrenheit (121 degrees Celsius) in daylight down to lows of -208 F (-133 C) at night – as well as dust, radiation and delayed communication with Earth. The spacecraft’s power systems, heat control, landing legs and communication links must all function perfectly. Meanwhile, these landers must avoid hazardous terrain and rely on sunlight to power their instruments and recharge their batteries. These challenges help explain why many landers have crashed or experienced partial failures, even though the technology has come a long way since the Apollo era. Commercial companies face the same technical hurdles as government agencies but often with tighter budgets, smaller teams and less heritage hardware. Unlike government missions, which can draw on decades of institutional experience and infrastructure, many commercial lunar efforts are navigating these challenges for the first time.

Successful landings and hard lessons for CLPS

Several lunar missions launched this year belong to NASA’s Commercial Lunar Payload Services program. CLPS is an initiative that contracts private companies to deliver science and technology payloads to the Moon. Its aim is to accelerate exploration while lowering costs and encouraging commercial innovation.

The first Moon mission of 2025, Firefly Aerospace’s Blue Ghost Mission 1, launched in January and successfully landed in early March. The lander survived the harsh lunar day and transmitted data for nearly two weeks before losing power during the freezing lunar night – a typical operational limit for most unheated lunar landers. Blue Ghost demonstrated how commercial landers can shoulder critical parts of NASA’s Artemis program, which aims to return astronauts to the Moon later this decade. The second CLPS launch of the year, Intuitive Machines’ IM-2 mission, launched in late February. It targeted a scientifically intriguing site near the Moon’s south pole region.

The Nova-C lander, named Athena, touched down on March 6 close to the south pole. However, during the landing process, Athena tipped over. Since it landed on its side in a crater with uneven terrain, it couldn’t deploy its solar panels to generate power, which ended the mission early. While Athena’s tipped-over landing meant it couldn’t do all the scientific explorations it had planned, the data it returned is still valuable for understanding how future landers can avoid similar fates on the rugged polar terrain. Not all lunar missions need to land. NASA’s Lunar Trailblazer, a small lunar orbiter launched in February alongside IM-2, was intended to orbit the Moon and map the form, abundance and distribution of water in the form of ice, especially in shadowed craters near the poles. Shortly after launch, however, NASA lost contact with the spacecraft. Engineers suspect the spacecraft may have experienced a power issue, potentially leaving its batteries depleted. NASA is continuing recovery efforts, hoping that the spacecraft’s solar panels may recharge in May and June.

Ongoing and future missions

Launched on the same day as the Blue Ghost mission in January, Japanese company ispace’s Hakuto-R Mission 2 (Resilience) is on its way to the Moon and has successfully entered lunar orbit. The lander carried out a successful flyby of the Moon on Feb. 15, with an expected landing in early June. Although launched at the same time, Resilience took a longer trajectory than Blue Ghost to save energy. This maneuver also allowed the spacecraft to collect bonus science observations while looping around the Moon. The mission, if successful, will advance Japan’s commercial space sector and prove an important comeback for ispace after its first lunar lander crashed during its final descent in 2023.

The rest of 2025 promises a busy lunar calendar. Intuitive Machines plans to launch IM-3 in late 2025 to test more advanced instruments and potentially deliver NASA scientific experiments to the Moon. The European Space Agency’s Lunar Pathfinder will establish a dedicated lunar communications satellite, making it easier for future missions, especially those operating on the far side or poles, to stay in touch with Earth. Meanwhile, Astrobotic’s Griffin Mission-1 is scheduled to deliver NASA’s VIPER rover to the Moon’s south pole, where it will directly search for ice beneath the surface. Together, these missions represent an increasingly international and commercial approach to lunar science and exploration. As the world turns its attention to the Moon, every mission – whether triumph or setback – brings humanity closer to a permanent return to our closest celestial neighbor. Zhenbo Wang, Associate Professor of Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering, University of Tennessee This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Mariah Meek, Michigan State University and Karrigan Börk, University of California, Davis It wouldn’t make much sense to prohibit people from shooting a threatened woodpecker while allowing its forest to be cut down, or to bar killing endangered salmon while allowing a dam to dry out their habitat. But that’s exactly what the Trump administration is proposing to do by changing how one word in the Endangered Species Act is interpreted: harm. For 50 years, the U.S. government has interpreted the Endangered Species Act as protecting threatened and endangered species from actions that either directly kill them or eliminate their habitat. Most species on the brink of extinction are on the list because there is almost no place left for them to live. Their habitats have been paved over, burned or transformed. Habitat protection is essential for their survival.

As an ecologist and a law professor, we have spent our entire careers working to understand the law and science of helping imperiled species thrive. We recognize that the rule change the Trump administration quietly proposed could green-light the destruction of protected species’ habitats, making it nearly impossible to protect those endangered species.

The legal gambit

The Endangered Species Act, passed in 1973, bans the “take” of “any endangered species of fish or wildlife,” which includes harming protected species. Since 1975, regulations have defined “harm” to include habitat destruction that kills or injures wildlife. Developers and logging interests challenged that definition in 1995 in a Supreme Court case, Babbitt v. Sweet Home Chapter of Communities for a Great Oregon. However, the court ruled that the definition was reasonable and allowed federal agencies to continue using it. In short, the law says “take” includes harm, and under the existing regulatory definition, harm includes indirect harm through habitat destruction.

The Trump administration is seeking to change that definition of “harm” in a way that leaves out habitat modification. This narrowed definition would undo the most significant protections granted by the Endangered Species Act.

Why habitat protection matters

Habitat protection is the single most important factor in the recovery of endangered species in the United States – far more consequential than curbing direct killing alone. A 2019 study examining the reasons species were listed as endangered between 1975 and 2017 found that only 17% were primarily threatened by direct killing, such as hunting or poaching. That 17% includes iconic species such as the red wolf, American crocodile, Florida panther and grizzly bear. In contrast, a staggering 81% were listed because of habitat loss and degradation. The Chinook salmon, island fox, southwestern willow flycatcher, desert tortoise and likely extinct ivory-billed woodpecker are just a few examples. Globally, a 2022 study found that habitat loss threatened more species than all other causes combined. As natural landscapes are converted to agriculture or taken over by urban sprawl, logging operations and oil and gas exploration, ecosystems become fragmented and the space that species need to survive and reproduce disappears. Currently, more than 107 million acres of land in the U.S. are designated as critical habitat for Endangered Species Act-listed species. Industries and developers have called for changes to the rules for years, arguing it has been weaponized to stop development. However, research shows species worldwide are facing an unprecedented threat from human activities that destroy natural habitat. Under the proposed change, development could be accelerated in endangered species’ habitats.

Gutting the Endangered Species Act

The definition change is a quiet way to gut the Endangered Species Act. It is also fundamentally incompatible with the purpose Congress wrote into the act: “to provide a means whereby the ecosystems upon which endangered species and threatened species depend may be conserved [and] to provide a program for the conservation of such endangered species and threatened species.” It contradicts the Supreme Court precedent, and it would destroy the act’s habitat protections.

Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum has argued that the recent “de-extinction” of dire wolves by changing 14 genes in the gray wolf genome means that America need not worry about species protection because technology “can help forge a future where populations are never at risk.” But altering an existing species to look like an extinct one is both wildly expensive and a paltry substitute for protecting existing species.

The administration has also refused to conduct the required analysis of the environmental impact that changing the definition could have. That means the American people won’t even know the significance of this change to threatened and endangered species until it’s too late, though if approved it will certainly end up in court.

The ESA is saving species

Surveys have found the Endangered Species Act is popular with the public, including Republicans. The Center for Biological Diversity estimates that the Endangered Species Act has saved 99% of protected species from extinction since it was created, not just from bullets but also from bulldozers. This regulatory rollback seeks to undermine the law’s greatest strength: protecting the habitats species need to survive. Congress knew the importance of habitat when it passed the law, and it wrote a definition of “take” that allows the agencies to protect it. Mariah Meek, Associate Professor of Integrative Biology, Michigan State University and Karrigan Börk, Professor of Law, University of California, Davis This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Michelle L.D. Hanlon, University of Mississippi April 2025 was a busy month for space. Pop icon Katy Perry joined five other civilian women on a quick jaunt to the edge of space, making headlines. Meanwhile, another group of people at the United Nations was contemplating a critical issue for the future of space exploration: the discovery, extraction and utilization of natural resources on the Moon. At the end of April, a dedicated Working Group of the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space released a draft set of recommended principles for space resource activities. Essentially, these are rules to govern mining on the Moon, asteroids and elsewhere in space for elements that are rare here on Earth. As a space lawyer and co-founder of For All Moonkind, a nonprofit dedicated to protecting human heritage in outer space, I know that the Moon could be the proving ground for humanity’s evolution into a species that lives and thrives on more than one planet. However, this new frontier raises complex legal questions.

Space, legally

Outer space – including the Moon – from a legal perspective, is a unique domain without direct terrestrial equivalent. It is not, like the high seas, the “common heritage of humankind,” nor is it an area, like Antarctica, where commercial mining is prohibited. Instead, the 1967 Outer Space Treaty – signed by more than 115 nations, including China, Russia and the United States – establishes that the exploration and use of space are the “province of all humankind.” That means no country may claim territory in outer space, and all have the right to access all areas of the Moon and other celestial bodies freely. The fact that, pursuant to Article II of the treaty, a country cannot claim territory in outer space, known as the nonappropriation principle, suggests to some that property ownership in space is forbidden. Can this be true? If your grandchildren move to Mars, will they never own a home? How can a company protect its investment in a lunar mine if it must be freely accessible by all? What happens, as it inevitably will, when two rovers race to a particular area on the lunar surface known to host valuable water ice? Does the winner take all? As it turns out, the Outer Space Treaty does offer some wiggle room. Article IX requires countries to show “due regard” for the corresponding interests of others. It is a legally vague standard, although the Permanent Court of Arbitration has suggested that due regard means simply paying attention to what’s reasonable under the circumstances.

First mover advantage – it’s a race

The treaty’s broad language encourages a race to the Moon. The first entity to any spot will have a unilateral opportunity to determine what’s legally “reasonable.” For example, creating an overly large buffer zone around equipment might be justified to mitigate potential damage from lunar dust. On top of that, Article XII of the Outer Space Treaty assumes that there will be installations, like bases or mining operations, on the Moon. Contrary to the free access principle, the treaty suggests that access to these may be blocked unless the owner grants permission to enter. Both of these paths within the treaty would allow the first person to make it to their desired spot on the Moon to keep others out. The U.N. principles in their current form don’t address these loopholes. The draft U.N. principles released in April mirror, and are confined by, the language of the Outer Space Treaty. This tension between free access and the need to protect – most easily by forbidding access – remains unresolved. And the clock is ticking.

The Moon’s vulnerable legacy

The U.S. Artemis program aims to return humans to the Moon by 2028, China has plans for human return by 2030, and in the intervening years, more than 100 robotic missions are planned by countries and private industry alike. For the most part, these missions are all headed to the same sweet spot: the lunar south pole. Here, peaks of eternal light and deep craters containing water ice promise the best mining, science and research opportunities.

In this excitement, it’s easy to forget that humans already have a deep history of lunar exploration. Scattered on the lunar surface are artifacts displaying humanity’s technological progress. After centuries of gazing at our closest celestial neighbor with fascination, in 1959 the Soviet spacecraft, Luna 2, became the first human-made object to impact another celestial body. Ten years later, two humans, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, became the first ever to set foot upon another celestial body. More recently, in 2019, China’s Chang’e 4 achieved the first soft landing on the Moon’s far side. And in 2023, India’s Chandrayaan-3 became the first to land successfully near the lunar south pole. These sites memorialize humanity’s baby steps off our home planet and easily meet the United Nations definition of terrestrial heritage, as they are so “exceptional as to transcend national boundaries and to be of common importance for present and future generations of all humanity.” The international community works to protect such sites on Earth, but those protection protocols do not extend to outer space.

The more than 115 other sites on the Moon that bear evidence of human activity are frozen in time without degradation from weather, animal or human activity. But this could change. A single errant spacecraft or rover could kick up abrasive lunar dust, erasing bootprints or damaging artifacts.

Protection and the Outer Space Treaty

In 2011, NASA recommended establishing buffer, or safety zones, of up to 1.2 miles (2 kilometers) to protect certain sites with U.S. artifacts. Because it understood that outright exclusion violates the Outer Space Treaty, NASA issued these recommendations as voluntary guidelines. Nevertheless, the safety zone concept, essentially managing access to and activities around specific areas, could be a practical tool for protecting heritage sites. They could act as a starting point to find a balance between protection and access.

One hundred and ninety-six nations have agreed, through the 1972 World Heritage Convention, on the importance of recognizing and protecting cultural heritage of universal value found here on Earth. Building on this agreement, the international community could require specific access protocols — such as a permitting process, activity restrictions, shared access rules, monitoring and other controls — for heritage sites on the Moon. If accepted, these protective measures for heritage sites could also work as a template for scientific and operational sites. This would create a consistent framework that avoids the perception of claiming territory. At this time, the draft U.N. principles released in April 2025 do not directly address the opposing concepts of access and protection. Instead, they defer to Article I of the Outer Space Treaty and reaffirm that everyone has free access to all areas of the Moon and other celestial bodies. As more countries and companies compete to reach the Moon, a clear lunar legal framework can guide them to avoid conflicts and preserve historical sites. The draft U.N. principles show that the international community is ready to explore what this framework could look like. Michelle L.D. Hanlon, Professor of Air and Space Law, University of Mississippi This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.