Starlink in India: Connectivity, Control, and the Politics of the Sky

This post is part of a series of contributor perspectives and analyses called "The Coming Age of Tech Trillionaires and the Challenge to Democracy." Learn more about the call for contributions here, and read other pieces in the series as they are published here.

The skies above India are becoming crowded not just with satellites but also with competing interests. The proposed collaboration between India’s leading telecom firms, Reliance Jio and Bharti Airtel, and Elon Musk’s Starlink signals more than mere technological progress or desire to connect remote, underserved locations. It invites a deeper reckoning with the risks of outsourcing national infrastructure to entities whose interests may not align with India’s long-term public good. Behind the appeal of faster connectivity and corporate optimism of “expanding horizons,” it is imperative to evaluate legal oversight, spectrum governance, and national sovereignty concerns.

This moment cannot be understood in isolation. India’s current communication landscape is a product of its colonial legacy (which prioritized excessive state control), the post-liberalization rush (which opened the gates for privatization), and decades of corporate lobbying and corruption that now shape who controls the airwaves and at what cost.

Airwaves, equity, and efficient allocation

Airwaves, like minerals or forests, constitute a finite and shared resource. They are not manufactured commodities or technical assets but elements of the natural environment and extensions of national territory in the skies that enable essential communication infrastructure. Unlike spectrum for mobile services, orbital slots are limited by geography and physics, and once occupied, they are difficult to reclaim.

The allocation of these resources carries long-term implications, not only for connectivity but also for sovereignty. Their value lies not only in their economic potential but also in their role in providing access to information, public broadcasting, emergency response, and democratic participation. Treating them as tradable assets without public oversight risks undermining legal norms and the larger public interest they are meant to serve. The Supreme Court’s ruling in the 2G spectrum case reaffirmed this by recognizing spectrum as a natural resource that belongs to the public and must be allocated through a transparent auction process, not private deals or first-come, first-served arrangements. The Indian National Telecom Policy of 1999 also states that spectrum should be used efficiently, economically, rationally, and optimally, and that its allocation must follow a transparent process. This principle is echoed at the global level by the International Telecommunication Union (ITU), which emphasizes that radio frequencies are limited natural resources and must be used rationally, efficiently, and in the public interest. Any attempt to bypass these standards in the name of technological advancement risks converting public goods into private monopolies. The Telecom Regulatory Authority of India’s (TRAI) Consultation Paper on Space-based Communication Services has also emphasized the need to auction satellite spectrum with proper regulatory oversight. Despite these principles, Starlink gained access to satellite spectrum in India without participating in a formal bidding process, a clear departure from the auction-based model traditionally used.

Strategic risks of privatized infrastructure

The case of Ukraine and Brazil’s reliance on a private satellite communication network such as Starlink is a cautionary tale for any country handing over critical infrastructure to a foreign private entity. With over 42,000 Starlink terminals reportedly deployed across Ukraine, the satellite internet system became indispensable to military operations, hospital connectivity, and basic civilian communication. What started as an act of support under the Biden administration, briefly earning Musk the image of a hero, soon became a bargaining chip under the Trump administration. Media reports suggested that US negotiators threatened to suspend Ukraine’s access to Starlink unless Kyiv agreed to grant American companies significant stakes in its critical mineral reserves. Regardless of Musk’s denials, the controversy highlighted the fragility of national autonomy when critical systems depend on decisions made by private individuals influenced by external political interests.

Similarly, the unfolding crisis in Brazil also offers a timely lesson. Musk’s defiance of Supreme Court orders to block accounts suspected of spreading hate speech and disinformation turned a legal dispute into a stark reminder of how easily global tech actors can test sovereign boundaries. If Brazil exposes the risks of private defiance in peacetime, Ukraine reveals the dangers of corporate dependence in wartime. For India and other nations, this should be a red flag.

Skybound solutions, grounded concerns

The Jio-Starlink collaboration comes draped in the language of digital inclusion and promises to light up the farthest village with high-speed internet. But we have seen this play before, first with fiber optics, then with 5G. The infrastructure stayed urban; the promises floated rural. What was once promised through fiber and 5G is now pitched through satellites, but the barrier to access these newer technologies remains the same, i.e, affordability. Starlink terminals currently cost between $349 and $2,499 in the US, and with import duties and tariffs, the price in India is likely to be even higher. For rural households already struggling with the cost of basic connectivity, the idea of purchasing high-end satellite equipment is unrealistic. The regions cited as the primary beneficiaries of Starlink are the ones least able to afford it.

Beyond affordability, there is also a strategic dimension to where this connectivity is intended to reach. Many of the remote and underserved regions where Starlink would be most beneficial, such as the Himalayan regions which extend from Kashmir in the North to Arunachal Pradesh in the east, are not just geographically isolated, but they are also some of the most sensitive and militarized zones in the world. Security concerns in these regions already shape communication policy. In Jammu and Kashmir, for instance, prepaid SIM cards issued outside the region do not function, and travelers are required to purchase postpaid connections to prevent untraceable or unverified communications. This is not an outdated relic but an ongoing policy rooted in the logic of national security. In the wake of the recent terrorist attack in Kashmir and unfolding tensions between India and its neighbors, the entry of foreign-controlled satellite systems into conflict-prone areas is a matter of strategic sensitivity and regulatory caution.

This is no longer just about connectivity. Satellite communication has become a lifeline for modern governance, embedded in everything from border surveillance to climate resilience. To treat this resource as just another commercial asset is to overlook its quiet power: to see, signal, and shape. In surrendering control of these invisible frontiers, a nation risks more than lost bandwidth. It risks ceding the very ground from which it understands and protects itself.