
US, China in hot race to put nuclear reactors on the moon
Imagine streaming your favorite show or scrolling through your phone, all from the comfort of a home base on the moon. Within the next decade, that sci-fi dream will edge closer to reality – the question is, will an American, Chinese or Russian get there first?
For humans to settle and reside on the moon, scientists must solve two big problems: finding water and generating power. Now, the United States and China, with the help of Russia, are in a high-stakes race to crack the latter by building lunar nuclear reactors.
Both superpowers are now pushing ahead with plans to install fission power plants on the moon's surface. America's NASA is aiming to launch its Fission Surface Power (FSP) system by the early 2030s, while China and Russia plan to build a lunar reactor between 2033 and 2035.
But this is more than a race for power in space. It's a contest over who will shape the rules — and reap the benefits — of the new frontier. On April 23, a top Chinese space official publicly discussed the country's lunar nuclear ambitions for the first time.
Wu Weiren, chief designer of China's lunar exploration program, told Reuters he hopes China and Russia will jointly build a reactor to power the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS), citing Russia's global leadership in nuclear space tech.
'An important question for the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS) is power supply. Russia has a natural advantage when it comes to nuclear power plants, especially when sending them into space. It leads the world and it is ahead of the US,' Wu said.
In previous interviews, he said China will send two unmanned spacecraft, Chang'e 7 and Chang'e 8, to the moon in 2026 and 2028, respectively. Chinese astronauts will land on the moon around 2030.
He said Chang'e 7 would search for ice on the moon's South Pole while Chang'e 8 would set up telecommunication and energy systems there. He said lunar minerals can be melted at 1,400-1,500 degrees Celsius to produce bricks, which he said can be used to build houses for the ILRS project.
In a presentation in Shanghai cited by Reuters, the 2028 mission's Chief Engineer Pei Zhaoyu showed that the lunar base's energy supply could also depend on large-scale solar arrays, and pipelines and cables for heating and electricity built on the moon's surface.
On March 5 last year, Yury Borisov, chief executive of Russia's State Corporation for Space Activities (Roscosmos), the main successor to the Soviet space program, said Russia and China planned to install a nuclear reactor on the moon in 2033-2035.
He said the reactor would have to be built by machines, and the necessary technological solutions were almost ready. He said solar power would not be enough to support lunar settlements. Borisov stressed that Russia had no plans to send nuclear weapons to space.
An academic paper said the ILRS will cover an area with a radius of up to six kilometers. The circle in the center with a radius of one kilometer will be a hub, while the main activity area will cover an area with a radius of three kilometers.
While China and Russia have set a target for a lunar nuclear plant, NASA has a full roadmap.
In 2022, NASA awarded three US$5 million contracts to teams led by Lockheed Martin, Westinghouse and IX (a joint venture of Intuitive Machines and X-Energy) to build the FSP reactors. They tested their preliminary designs at the Idaho National Laboratory.
NASA specified that the reactor should stay under six metric tons and be able to produce 40 kilowatts (kw) of electrical power, ensuring enough for demonstration purposes and additional power available for running lunar habitats, rovers, backup grids or science experiments. In the US, 40 kw can, on average, provide electrical power for 33 households.
NASA will ask the industry to design the final reactor this year. In the early 2030s, NASA will send the reactor to the moon for a one-year demonstration, followed by nine years of operation. It will then modify the reactor's design and send one to Mars.
In January this year, China Institute of Atomic Energy (CIEA) researchers Shi Yunda and Zhao Shouzhi published a paper titled 'Study on nuclear design of long-life lunar surface nuclear reactor power supply based on annular fuel.'
They suggested minor changes that can reduce the American FSP reactor's nuclear fuel (uranium-235) loading by 75% to 18.46 kilograms.
In 2017, Zhao and another CIAE researcher, Hu Gu, co-published a paper titled 'Overview of space nuclear reactor power technology' in China's Journal of Deep Space Exploration.
'Space nuclear reactor power has clear and extensive military and civilian purposes,' they said. 'This technology is one of the disruptive technologies.'
They admitted that the US and the Soviet Union had spent decades developing space-use nuclear reactors and had acquired many core technologies. They said China's development of space nuclear reactor power should be unique.
The technology race on the moon is an extension of the geopolitical fight on Earth.
In October 2020, NASA launched the Artemis Accords, an international initiative to promote safe and sustainable space exploration. Fifty-four nations, including developed and emerging countries, have signed the accords.
In March 2021, China and Russia signed a Memorandum of Understanding to construct the ILRS. The duo planned to build the basic model of a permanent base on the moon by 2035 and an extended model in the 2040s.
So far, 17 countries and more than 50 international research institutions have joined the ILRS, mostly Russian and Chinese allies in the Global South. The European Space Agency (ESA) ruled out joining the ILRS after Russia invaded Ukraine.
'The ILRS' development trend is very good, but compared to the United States' Artemis Accords, ours is much smaller in terms of countries because the US is always interfering in our cooperation with other countries, including Europe,' Wu told foreign media on April 23, without elaborating on the allegation.
Before this, Beijing had repeatedly criticized the US for passing the Wolf Amendment in 2011, which prohibited NASA from partnering with Chinese institutions.
In the past decade, China has pushed its lunar exploration program and sought support from Russia to boost its space technologies. However, Russia has reportedly been reluctant to share its rocket engines and nuclear technologies with China.
Russia faced a significant space race setback in August 2023 when its Luna-25 spacecraft crashed on the moon's surface.
Bian Zhigang, deputy director of the China National Space Administration (CNSA), said on April 23 that lunar exploration activities are evolving from short-term missions to long-term construction, from single-craft exploration to multi-craft collaboration and from national missions to international cooperation.
Bian said the modes of exploration and cooperation are undergoing fundamental changes. He added that the ILRS will offer new opportunities and platforms for fostering global intelligence integration, technological innovation, inclusive cooperation and shared development.
Read: China and SpaceX envision reaching Mars in different ways
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Asia Times
7 days ago
- Asia Times
Marco Rubio's and Miles Yu's war on Chinese students is misguided
In an age of escalating geopolitical rivalry, democracy's strongest foundations — press freedom, civic trust and public accountability — are being eroded by a perfect storm of surveillance, suspicion, and systemic misinformation. This is especially visible in US-China relations, where bipartisan hawkishness has led to sweeping proposals like Senator Marco Rubio's latest effort to revoke visas from Chinese students and researchers — treating them as national security risks by default. Joining the chorus is Miles Yu, a former Chinese international student who became a top China policy adviser in the first Trump administration. In his widely cited essay, 'Enabling the Dragon,' published in November 2024 the week after Donald Trump had won the election, Yu argues that US universities have become naive enablers of the Chinese Communist Party, serving as academic outposts vulnerable to intellectual theft and ideological infiltration. Yu urges that the United States should sharply restrict academic engagement with China, calling such cooperation a national security threat. His claim is sweeping: that China has 'outsourced' its academic system to exploit American openness, and that the US must respond by severing intellectual ties. Both Rubio and Yu are also ignoring the data: Chinese nationals make up the largest share of foreign students in STEM fields — computer science, engineering, math and the physical sciences. According to the National Science Foundation, more than 80% of Chinese PhD recipients in these fields stay and work in the US after graduation, contributing directly to American innovation, entrepreneurship, and research leadership. Many have founded startups, filed patents and worked in cutting-edge labs at US universities and tech companies. The idea that they are 'outsourcing' American prosperity to China is not only false — it's self-destructive. If these students are forced out, the US will not only lose a competitive advantage in global talent — it will damage its innovation ecosystem at its roots. Immigration-driven innovation has been one of the few consistent engines of American prosperity in a polarized and gridlocked political climate. Treating every foreign-born talent as a potential spy will only drive them into the arms of competitors. Moreover, this zero-sum framing misrepresents how education actually works. American universities are not ideological weaklings — they are spaces where critical thinking, civic inquiry and pluralistic values are cultivated. Chinese students are not arriving with monolithic loyalties — they are shaped by their experiences here, often becoming some of the most perceptive critics of authoritarianism and some of the strongest defenders of democratic ideals. Diaspora students and scholars, such as the founders of China Labor Watch and Human Rights in China, have often been at the forefront of documenting abuses, challenging both Chinese state narratives and the overreach of US suspicion. They are not security liabilities — they are civic actors. And yet, they are increasingly caught in the middle. Media outlets rush to publish stories about alleged espionage long before there's due process. Federal task forces pressure universities to cut off collaborations without context. On social media, platforms like X — once Twitter — amplify xenophobic paranoia while silencing legitimate voices. The result is a digital public sphere poisoned by fear and disinformation, where nuance disappears and policy becomes a blunt instrument of exclusion. In my research — China's Emerging Inter-network Society — I explore how diaspora communities and digital platforms are reshaping political consciousness. Platforms like WeChat and TikTok are indeed double-edged: they can be used for surveillance, but also for storytelling, mutual aid, and grassroots advocacy. What Yu fails to mention is this: He was once 'the dragon' he now seeks to shut out. To presume otherwise is to vastly underestimate the power of American education — something Yu himself should know firsthand. Yet there's a glaring irony: Yu himself is living proof that American education works — not just as a system of knowledge transmission, but as a transformative force of values, perspective and civic engagement. Yu came to the US in the 1980s as an international student from China. He benefited from the very system he now decries — one that welcomed global talent, nurtured individual potential and allowed a Chinese-born scholar to rise to the highest levels of US policymaking. If America had treated him then the way he now proposes treating others, Miles Yu might still be teaching Maoist doctrine in Anhui, not advising presidents in Washington. If Miles Yu truly believed Chinese students couldn't be trusted, one wonders why he chose to stay and serve in the US government rather than return to China after pursuing his PhD degree. Doesn't his own life prove the power of American education to transform, inspire, and integrate? If we now assume every Chinese student is a CCP foot soldier, does that include him too? Or is he the exception who proves the value — not the danger — of keeping the door open? He chose to stay in the United States not because he was coerced but because the openness and meritocracy of American institutions resonated with him. If we now claim that every Chinese student is a sleeper agent for Beijing, then Yu's own journey becomes an inconvenient contradiction. Isn't he the evidence that America's democratic model can win hearts and minds? That contradiction isn't just ironic. It's emblematic of a dangerous drift in US national security thinking in which suspicion has replaced strategy and identity has replaced evidence. If the US blocks Chinese students while maintaining that it wants to 'compete' with China, Beijing will likely frame the move as hypocritical — claiming it reveals American insecurity rather than confidence in its democratic model. The retaliatory measures may not just hurt bilateral relations but also signal to other countries the risks of aligning too closely with US policy on China. Yu's central claim is that Chinese students and scholars serve as covert extensions of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), sent not to learn but to spy, steal, and subvert. This argument has gained traction in parts of Washington, where fears of intellectual property theft and technological competition are real and justified. But let's be clear: there is a vast difference between targeted counterintelligence and collective suspicion. To reduce an entire population of students — numbering over 270,000 annually — to latent threats is both empirically unfounded and strategically foolish. Chinese students are not a monolith. Many come precisely because they seek an alternative to the CCP's control. Some become critics of the regime. Others stay, contribute to US innovation, or build bridges that serve American interests abroad. Treating them as presumed agents of espionage doesn't protect US security — it undercuts America's greatest soft power asset: its openness. We are now witnessing the consequences of this worldview hardening into law. In May 2025, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, citing security risks, announced that his department would move to revoke or block Chinese student visas in 'sensitive' research fields outright, citing national security risks. The proposal would give broad authority to federal agencies to deny or cancel visas without due process, based not on individual conduct, but on nationality and field of study. This is not strategic caution — it's blanket exclusion. And it mirrors the logic of Yu's essay: that anyone Chinese by origin or association is inherently suspect. Such policies are dangerously close to the racialized fearmongering of the Chinese Exclusion Act era, now dressed in tech-sector clothing. They undermine US universities, punish innocent scholars, and hand the CCP a propaganda victory. If carried out, this policy won't stop espionage — it will cripple American research labs, isolate Chinese dissidents, and accelerate talent flight to competitor nations like Canada, the UK, and Australia. The Trump administration's aggressive stance on Chinese espionage is haunted by the very intelligence failures it now seeks to prevent. As Sue Miller, the CIA's former chief mole hunter, has pointed out, the collapse of US spy networks in China more than a decade ago — a debacle that saw scores of informants arrested or executed — remains unresolved. That strategic humiliation not only decimated on-the-ground intelligence, it also created a culture of institutional paranoia in Washington. Now, instead of rebuilding trust and refining intelligence practices, the Trump-era approach has leaned heavily on suspicion and overreach — particularly targeting ethnic Chinese scientists, scholars, and students. But blunt tools don't fix complex failures. The overcorrection has led to high-profile wrongful prosecutions, deteriorating academic collaboration and growing mistrust within diaspora communities. The United States' inability to root out past internal breaches has fueled a form of policy scapegoating — one that risks trading precision for profiling. Without credible reform of intelligence capabilities and transparent accountability for past missteps, the crackdown will remain reactive, politically charged and ultimately self-defeating. Yu frames UA-China academic collaboration as 'outsourcing,' suggesting the US has ceded control of its intellectual infrastructure to a hostile power. But this misunderstands both how American academia works and why it thrives. Academic exchange is not a one-way transaction. It's a competitive ecosystem, where ideas are tested, refined and challenged through global participation. Chinese students and researchers don't dilute US education — they elevate it. They help fill STEM classrooms, contribute to breakthroughs in AI and biomedical research, and keep US universities globally dominant. Cutting them off would hurt America far more than it would hurt China. Yes, vigilance is necessary. Research security protocols should be strong. Federal funding should come with guardrails. But throwing out the entire system of engagement, as Yu and now Rubio suggest, would be self-sabotage. If enforced, Rubio's proposal to ban Chinese students will not only undercut America's higher education system — it could also trigger swift retaliation from Beijing. China may impose reciprocal visa restrictions on US students, scholars and education programs, halt joint research initiatives or tighten controls on American academic access to Chinese data and field sites. More strategically, it could restrict elite talent from going to the US, incentivize a reverse brain drain or escalate a global narrative campaign accusing the US of racial discrimination. Such moves wouldn't just harm bilateral ties — they would damage America's soft power, alienate diaspora communities and send a troubling signal to other nations about the risks of engaging with US institutions. Ironically, by closing the door on Chinese students, Rubio and his allies may be doing more to weaken America's global leadership than to defend The U.S.-China contest is not just about chips, jets, and rare earths. It's about the future of global norms — openness versus control, pluralism versus authoritarianism. In this battle, academic freedom is not a vulnerability. It's a weapon. It is what makes the US different from — and stronger than — the system the CCP promotes. If we start mimicking Beijing's paranoia, walling off knowledge, and excluding people based on their passport, we risk becoming what we claim to oppose. Yu himself is living proof of that freedom's power. He came to the US seeking truth, found it in an open society and used it to shape national strategy. That's a success story, not a turn around now and advocate for closing the gates behind him is not only short-sighted — it's a betrayal of the very ideals that made his own story possible. A call for strategic openness Miles Yu transferred himself from Chinese student to gatekeeper by pulling up the ladder behind him. What we need is not blanket restriction but smart engagement, clearer funding rules, targeted export controls and honest dialogue with university leaders – and, yes, a robust national security posture. But we must resist fear-driven policies that punish potential allies and weaken our intellectual base. The best way to 'outcompete' China is not to become more like it — but to double down on what made the US the envy of the world. If we follow Yu's and Rubio's advice, we may win a battle of suspicion — but lose the war for global leadership. If the US wants to outcompete authoritarian regimes, it must stop mimicking their logic. Surveillance, guilt by association and ideological profiling are not strategies for innovation — they are symptoms of decline. Democracy's strength lies in openness, in attracting talent, and in offering a system that can inspire — not coerce — loyalty. Rather than banning students, the US should reinvest in the institutions that make it a magnet for global minds: its universities, its press, and its civic infrastructure. Journalists must be more careful not to amplify racialized suspicion. Lawmakers must recognize that brainpower, not fear, drives prosperity. Scholars like Miles Yu must reckon with the contradiction between their personal journeys and the policies they now advocate. Democracy does not win by closing its doors. It wins by proving it is worth entering. Yujing Shentu, PhD, is an independent scholar and writer on digital politics, international political economy and US-China strategic competition.

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Asia Times
29-05-2025
- Asia Times
How SE Asia can break China's rare earth monopoly
Last week, Australia's Lynas Rare Earths produced heavy rare earth elements (HREEs) at a commercial scale in Malaysia, marking the first time this has ever happened outside of China. This breakthrough, which includes elements like dysprosium and terbium, is no small feat in a market dominated by China, which is responsible for around 60% of global rare earth production and virtually 100% of the world's HREE supply. Rare earth elements (REEs) are critical for the US and other advanced economies: they power technologies from electric vehicles to defense systems. The US Department of Defense, for instance, has identified HREEs as vital for missile systems, radar and advanced communications. Yet, the US itself produces only about 12% of global REEs—and almost none of the heavy types. Without secure access to these materials, Western industries risk supply chain disruptions that could slow the clean energy transition and compromise national security. It is for these reasons that the US recently signed an agreement with Ukraine to secure preferential access to its mineral resources—including, notably, REEs—in exchange for establishing a Ukraine reconstruction fund, as well as certain payback for the estimated US$150 billion the US has provided Ukraine since the war started. However, a significant portion of Ukraine's known REE reserves lies in the Donetsk region, which remains under Russian control, highlighting the fragility of relying on politically contested sources. In this context, Lynas' progress is not just a technical achievement but a geopolitical shift. It positions not only Malaysia, but also Southeast Asia, as a key hotspot for the future of sourcing REEs. Until recently, there were few incentives to produce REEs in the region. But market shifts, the strategic push for supply chain diversification and the growing capacity of Southeast Asian countries to process REEs domestically promise to unlock vast potential. Vietnam, in particular, holds some of the world's largest REE reserves—estimated at around 3.5 million tonnes (with some sources suggesting as much as 20 million tonnes), nearly twice the size of US reserves. Yet its production today is negligible, representing less than 1% of global output. Major deposits in the country's northwest, such as Dong Pao and Nam Xe, remain largely untapped, while significant areas across the country are still unexplored. Still, Southeast Asia's potential REE suppliers face substantial challenges: (1) environmental concerns, notably the management of radioactive byproducts like thorium; (2) a lack of technical expertise and processing infrastructure, with China still controlling key separation technologies; and (3) market and geopolitical pressures, as these countries navigate a landscape dominated by Chinese pricing power, potential retaliation and complex export dynamics. If Southeast Asia—especially Vietnam and Malaysia—can overcome these challenges, the region could emerge as a critical node in global REE supply chains, offering the US, Europe, Japan and others an alternative to China's near-monopoly. However, this will require more than favorable geology; it demands investment in refining capacity, strict environmental standards, and strategic partnerships that ensure technology transfer and long-term market access. For the West, the stakes are clear: support Southeast Asia's rare earth ambitions—or remain perilously dependent on a single Chinese supplier. Patricio Faúndez is country manager at GEM Mining Consulting