Tag Archive for: telecommunications

Sri Lanka stalls Starlink over security and sovereignty concerns

Starlink is great for developing countries, offering connectivity without costly infrastructure. But it’s a challenge for their national security, since authorities can’t monitor the traffic it carries.

This policy conflict arose in Sri Lanka in early May, when the government paused rollout of the satellite communications service, blocking one of the few ways to ensure affordable connectivity to remote and vulnerable areas.

Satellite internet can help close significant connectivity gaps across Sri Lanka, especially in remote, underserved and disaster-prone regions where fibre and mobile networks are limited. For a country recovering from conflict and economic crises, affordable and resilient connectivity is essential. But the government’s inability to monitor or intercept traffic through Starlink’s infrastructure has triggered alarm bells. Authorities say the service can’t proceed until security and regulatory frameworks are in place.

While regulatory hurdles for Starlink are increasing, Sri Lanka’s case is distinct. Some countries, including Lesotho and Cambodia, have approved Starlink as part of broader trade negotiations with the United States. In contrast, Sri Lanka independently initiated licensing reforms and has since paused rollout to address legal and security concerns. It’s one of the few small states asserting regulatory sovereignty, rather than accommodating external pressure.

Sri Lanka isn’t alone. India required Starlink to suspend preorders in 2021 until it secured proper licencing. Indonesia approved Starlink in 2024 only after obtaining regulatory assurances. And France revoked Starlink’s licence in 2022 after a court ruled regulators failed to conduct mandatory public consultation.

The licencing delay reflects broader shifts in Sri Lanka’s approach to digital governance. The current administration has placed greater emphasis on regulatory control, particularly when it comes to foreign-operated digital infrastructure. The Online Safety Act, passed in early 2024, created the Online Safety Commission with powers to regulate content and digital platforms. Online service providers, including foreign platforms, must comply with requirements on matters such as disinformation, incitement and national security.

While Starlink isn’t a social media platform, its architecture enables encrypted, high-speed internet access that bypasses local routing and oversight. That conflicts with Sri Lanka’s digital governance agenda, which emphasises legal accountability, interoperability with domestic regulation and alignment with security priorities.

In that sense, the Starlink pause reflects a bigger reckoning over who controls Sri Lanka’s digital infrastructure, and under what rules.

Starlink’s technical promise is clear: with over 6,000 satellites in low Earth orbit, the network can deliver fast, reliable internet to areas often left behind. That makes it attractive to countries such as Sri Lanka, where coverage gaps persist. The satellite internet market is also expanding rapidly with competitors including Amazon’s Project Kuiper and OneWeb preparing to enter the satellite broadband space.

Recognising the potential of satellite networks, former president Ranil Wickremesinghe’s administration met Elon Musk and fast-tracked approvals in 2024. This followed the passage of an updated Telecommunications Bill—the first amendment to the law in 28 years—which introduced new licence categories and explicitly enabled Starlink Lanka to operate as a licensed service provider, pending regulatory approval.

That momentum has stalled under the new government. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s administration has raised concerns about Starlink’s limited integration with national infrastructure, restricting lawful government and regulatory oversight.

That lack of oversight is a dealbreaker under current policy settings. As with many countries, Sri Lanka’s regulatory posture is still evolving, but with heightened concerns about extraterritorial digital services, it’s unlikely to make exceptions.

This echoes Sri Lanka’s caution with Huawei’s 5G rollout. Although not banned, Huawei was sidelined after key partners raised espionage concerns. Starlink presents a different risk, as it’s less about foreign surveillance and more about domestic blind spots. But the underlying issue is similar: what happens when critical digital infrastructure lies beyond the reach of the state?

Sri Lanka’s hardline stance comes at a cost. Blocking Starlink might slow digital inclusion, especially in hard-to-reach areas. And while the government has signalled interest in developing its own telecommunications capabilities, infrastructure rollouts take time, and the country is still navigating the tail end of an economic crisis that makes this more aspirational than practical.

A more strategic approach might involve conditional approvals. That could include mandating Starlink to partner with a licensed domestic telecommunications provider, such as Dialog or SLT-Mobitel, to establish in-country gateways or route traffic through national internet exchanges. These measures would comply with Sri Lanka’s regulatory requirements and enable oversight.

The Starlink case should prompt Sri Lanka to clarify its digital infrastructure policy. It will face similar questions over foreign cloud services, cross-border data flows and AI platforms. Setting clear, predictable rules now would help manage future risks and reinforce the country’s ability to safeguard its digital sovereignty.

That may be difficult, but it’s not impossible. Sri Lanka’s Starlink pause is a reminder that political will can ensure foreign digital services—from satellites in orbit or platforms online—adhere to local rules.

Editors’ picks for 2024: ‘China may be putting the Great Firewall into orbit’

Originally published on 26 August 2024.

The first satellites for China’s ambitious G60 mega-constellation are in orbit in preparation for offering global satellite internet services—and we should worry about how this will help Beijing export its model of digital authoritarianism around the world.

The G60’s inaugural launch on 5 August 2024 carried 18 satellites into low-Earth orbit (LEO) on a Long March 6A rocket. Led by Shanghai Spacecom Satellite Technology and backed by the Shanghai Municipal Government, the project aims to compete in the commercial satellite internet market with SpaceX’s Starlink, providing regional coverage by 2025 and global coverage by 2027.

The G60 is one of three mega-constellations that China is planning, alongside the Guowang project, run by state-owned China Satellite Services, and the Honghu-3 constellation, led by Shanghai Lanjian Hongqing Technology Company. These constellations provide the infrastructure to support China’s rapidly growing commercial space sector, including its satellite internet initiatives which are making rapid advances.

China launched the world’s first 6G test satellite into LEO in January. GalaxySpace recently made headlines by deploying satellite internet services in Thailand, the first time Chinese LEO satellite internet had been deployed overseas. In June, the Chinese company OneLinQ launched China’s first civilian domestic satellite internet service, indicating it would expand through countries that had signed up to China’s Belt and Road Initiative.

Yet through these efforts, China is not only securing its position in the satellite internet market but laying the groundwork for expanding its digital governance model far beyond its borders.

Central to China’s ambition is the concept of cyber sovereignty—the notion that each nation has the right to govern its digital domain. In practice, China has used this principle to build a heavily censored surveillance system supporting the Chinese Communist Party’s power, widely condemned for violating human rights.

China’s satellite internet services would enable other governments to adopt similar practices, as the nature of satellite internet makes it susceptible to state control.

Satellite internet is more controllable due to its centralised infrastructure, where data is routed through a limited number of ground stations or gateways. This enables censorship and surveillance as service providers and authorities can more easily monitor, block and filter content.

In contrast, traditional internet infrastructure relies on a decentralised network of sub-sea cables and terrestrial networks managed by many stakeholders with thousands of data exchange points. This decentralised structure makes it difficult for any entity to exert complete control over the flow of information, as countries such as Russia — which initially welcomed the open internet, unlike China or North Korea—have learned.

Countries that use China’s satellite internet service providers could more easily control what information is accessible within their borders, much as the Great Firewall of China operates domestically. This could mean blocking politically sensitive topics, monitoring user activity, or shutting down the internet during unrest. While satellite internet has often been hailed as a means for dissidents and activists to bypass restrictive governments, the reality under China’s model, which would place it in the hands of nation-states, would be starkly different.

China is already exporting its digital authoritarianism through such initiatives as the Digital Silk Road, providing technologies and governance models that enable censorship, surveillance and social control to other countries. These efforts come amid a rise in the global spread of authoritarianism as governments seek to exert control over online spaces. Adopting Chinese satellite internet services would accelerate this trend, empowering other countries to implement similar controls and restrict human rights globally.

Offering satellite internet worldwide has other benefits for Beijing. Countries relying on China’s infrastructure for connectivity may risk being pressured to comply with Beijing’s demands, including censoring content critical of China, sharing sensitive data or suppressing domestic dissent in China’s interests. For example, a journalist in a country that relies on China’s satellite internet services might find his or her connection reduced or severed when reporting human rights abuses in China.

The centralised nature of satellite internet may also make countries more vulnerable to cyber espionage by the Chinese government or malicious actors. Chinese satellite providers may also be subject to China’s stringent data localisation policies, such as the Cybersecurity Law, which requires companies to store data within China and make it accessible to the Chinese government. As China’s satellite projects are intended to provide global coverage, the data of international users—spanning communication, location, and internet activity—would be subject to Chinese data laws. Chinese authorities could potentially access any data transmitted through Chinese satellite internet services.

The global deployment of China’s internet satellite services is still some way off and faces significant challenges. However, if China’s satellite internet services are adopted, the world may witness the rise of a new digital Iron Curtain extending from space, dividing the free flow of information and imposing state control on a global scale.