In this part of the world, the phrase “dogfight” does not sound so foreign. For decades, Türkiye and Greece have been locked in intermittent aerial standoffs over the Aegean Sea. Particularly in the 1990s and early 2000s, their jets would engage in sharp turns, close passes and maneuvering contests that sometimes ended in tragic collisions or downed aircraft. What began as exceptional incidents gradually became almost routine – nearly ordinary – in the skies above the archipelago.
While the public often regarded these encounters as military showdowns or national bravado, beneath the surface, they were shaped by legal logic. Each side was not only flying jets but also asserting claims. Both Türkiye and Greece have long relied on a legal posture known as persistent objection – a principle under international law that allows a state to consistently and openly reject the application of another state’s claim without accepting it as binding. In the Aegean, this took physical form through jets shadowing each other across disputed airspace. The message was always the same: “Your claim is noted, but not accepted.”
This kind of structured defiance is not unique to the Aegean Sea or Eastern Mediterranean. Similar postures have been seen in other corners of the world, shaped by both legal interpretation and political will. Now, we are witnessing a parallel version of it far above Earth: in space!
A new area for competition
Dogfights, as we have known them – fast, low, territorial – have long been about claiming airspace. They’ve been legal positions flown into motion; arguments made not with words but with wings.
But what if we told you that these dogfights no longer belong to aircraft alone? What if they have moved even higher, far above the clouds, into the silent domain of space?
Yes, the long-anticipated era of space conflict – spoken of for decades in future tense – may no longer be hypothetical. Has it truly begun? Perhaps not as open war, not with fire and debris, but certainly as competition over control. Power, positioning and presence – all now rehearsed and contested not by jets, but by satellites.
Just as fighter pilots once circled each other over disputed waters, satellites today seem to trace those same lines of tension. Above us, in the highest reaches, the same states now test each other’s resolve – not in the skies, but beyond them.
On March 18, 2025, Gen. Michael Guetlein of the United States Space Force shared an observation at a defense forum in Washington. He described five Chinese satellites maneuvering around each other in low Earth orbit with precision and intent. “That’s what we call dogfighting in space,” he said. It was not combat, but something closer to a message. A calculated, visible rehearsal.
These satellites may be registered under civilian or research missions. But behavior often speaks louder than classification. In orbit, movement can express legal and strategic intention. These were not ordinary adjustments; they were formations. And they appeared to echo the same logic as those long-familiar dogfights over the Aegean – presence used as protest, proximity used as a form of legal disagreement.
The primary international agreement governing space, the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, still provides the general legal structure. It emphasizes that outer space is free for use by all countries, bans national appropriation and holds states responsible for their activities, even those conducted by private actors. However, it leaves several key questions open – for instance, how closely satellites can maneuver near others, what constitutes interference and how to interpret intent in motion.
This is where broader principles step in. Under customary international law, states are responsible if their conduct causes harm or disrupts the peaceful use of outer space by others. But if there is no collision or physical damage, the legal boundary becomes blurred. That space – the uncertain ground between permitted and prohibited – is where new behaviors start shaping future norms.
And here, the idea of persistent objection takes on a modern form. In orbit, the refusal to recognize a rival’s assumptions or restrictions is now shown through controlled maneuvering rather than formal protest. It’s a quiet, continuous posture. And it’s becoming part of how law is interpreted by behavior.
Elsewhere, another legal move is unfolding. Eight European countries, including France and Estonia, have filed a complaint to the U.N. accusing Russia of intentional interference with satellite communications. The complaint, supported by 17 other EU member states and the U.K., refers to signal jamming that has reportedly affected navigation and broadcasting systems. This is not just a diplomatic issue. It’s a test of how the principle of non-interference – also rooted in the Outer Space Treaty – will be enforced or interpreted.
New rules for space
These shifts matter for countries like Türkiye, which is steadily expanding its presence in space. Beyond the technological milestones, there is legal ground to claim. Türkiye’s voice, shaped by its diplomatic traditions and legal credibility, can contribute meaningfully to how orbital norms are discussed, clarified and promoted.
Instead of aligning fully with one pole in this new space dynamic, Türkiye can help bring definition to the grey areas – encouraging clear rules of proximity, responsible maneuvering practices and procedures for deconfliction. In international settings, even proposing reasonable guidelines can amplify a country’s stature, especially when the major powers are too entangled in rivalry to take the lead.
At the same forum where Guetlein made his statement, U.S. Army officials discussed how artificial intelligence may soon assist soldiers on the battlefield. Not to replace them, but to work beside them. To scout, to calculate, to clear risk. It was a vision of future warfare shaped by intelligence, not firepower.
In space, we are seeing the same. A satellite that circles another may not fire a shot. But its path, if repeated, sends a clear signal. It tests how far one can go without breaking a rule. Or perhaps, how to reshape one.
Of course, we cannot know whether some of these satellites already carry weapon systems, quietly installed and ready to target another satellite or a space shuttle someday. They may be the secret systems no one has publicly acknowledged. But the thought does cross the mind!
And maybe years from now, when scholars and policymakers look back on this period, they will mark that Tuesday in March not for what happened, but for what it revealed.