Wed Jun 4, 2025 12:00 PM Last update on: Wed Jun 4, 2025 12:00 PM Starlink is not just a communications service; it is a private enterprise deeply entwined with the American industrial-defence ecosystem. VISUAL: MONOROM POLOK When the Bangladesh government pulled the plug on the internet during the student-led mass uprising in July-August 2024, millions were plunged into digital darkness. Messaging apps went silent, live streams were cut mid-broadcast, and access to real-time information vanished overnight. In the chaos, one question echoed across social media: if we can't count on the ground networks, what's left? Enter Starlink. The satellite internet service, backed by Elon Musk's SpaceX, has been touted by Bangladeshi officials as a futuristic fix to prevent such blackouts. With internet signals beamed directly from orbit, the idea of a censorship-proof, disruption-resistant network has captured public imagination. But amid the enthusiasm lies a host of unanswered questions: can satellite internet safeguard freedom of expression and access to information? Can it truly enhance resilience against politically motivated disruptions? What are the implications for regulatory oversight, data governance, and national sovereignty? Could Starlink solve the connectivity challenges in Bangladesh? This dependency raises questions about regulatory jurisdiction and accountability. Satellite internet operates across borders, complicating national oversight and creating potential vulnerabilities to surveillance, data privacy violations, or political pressure from external governments. And yet, Bangladesh, despite having far less regulatory capacity, has moved ahead without a coherent or enforceable strategy. Regulatory bodies like the Bangladesh Telecommunication Regulatory Commission (BTRC) are structured to manage traditional spectrum licensing for mobile networks, not to oversee or audit foreign-operated satellite systems that bypass national infrastructure and beam internet directly into remote communities without relying on local intermediaries. The result is a jurisdictional void. Starlink becomes not just a workaround to terrestrial censorship, but a relocation of power: from state regulators to corporate policy departments, from national laws to foreign boardrooms. What we call "resilience" may, in fact, be disempowerment—trading one form of control for another. The illusion of universality Let's also examine the technical accessibility of satellite internet. In theory, satellite internet should be a great equaliser, offering rural communities and marginalised populations the same digital opportunities as those in urban centres. But in practice, it is prohibitively expensive. In Kenya, the service is subsidised to $10 a month. In Zambia and Rwanda, it's around $30. According to the latest figures, Starlink offers two residential internet packages in Bangladesh, Residential Lite at Tk 4,200 per month (approximately $35) and Residential at Tk 6,000 per month (approximately $50), with one-time hardware and setup cost of Tk 47,000 (roughly $402), while the average monthly salary in the country is around Tk 26,000 (about $245). That means the upfront cost of the hardware alone is nearly 1.8 times the average monthly income, and the recurring monthly subscription could consume 15-23 percent of a typical worker's wages. Technically speaking, the Starlink hardware—a phased-array antenna called "Dishy McFlatface"—is highly advanced. But it's also fragile, requires a clear line of sight to the sky, and draws around 100 watts of power continuously. That's more than what many households can afford to power reliably during outages. Can satellite internet safeguard freedom of expression and access to information? Yes, it might be possible. But only if we govern it well. Without robust legal frameworks, democratic accountability, and inclusive policy design, we risk replacing one form of centralised control with another—this time, embedded within opaque corporate structures and complex transnational dependencies. So, who will use it? Not the student live-streaming a protest. Not the rural health worker trying to send data during a crisis. Likely, it will be gated to those with existing access to reliable infrastructure and institutional support—urban elites, corporate entities. In this way, satellite internet risks reinforcing a two-tiered system, one where meaningful connectivity remains out of reach for those who need it most. Internet shutdowns are not just technical problems The central policy challenge is that we treat internet shutdowns as technical disruptions that require technical fixes. But the reality is, internet shutdowns are acts of state power—deliberate, political decisions aimed at information control. They are not engineering failures; they are governance failures. And yet, we often respond with technical solutions. We reach for circumvention tools, virtual private networks (VPNs), mesh networks, and now satellite internet. These tools can be powerful stopgaps. They can mitigate harm. They can allow human rights defenders to continue documenting abuse, enable journalists to publish when the fibre lines are cut, and preserve life-saving communication during repression or conflict. But the danger is, if we invest in satellite internet without also reforming the political culture, the legal and institutional frameworks that permit shutdowns in the first place, we will have treated the symptom, not the disease. We risk accepting the false notion that resilience means finding workarounds rather than addressing the root problem: that internet shutdowns should not happen in the first place. So, can satellite internet safeguard freedom of expression and access to information? Yes, it might be possible. But only if we govern it well. Without robust legal frameworks, democratic accountability, and inclusive policy design, we risk replacing one form of centralised control with another—this time, embedded within opaque corporate structures and complex transnational dependencies. The satellites may orbit above us. But the consequences of how we govern them will be felt here, on the ground, by the people. Dinah van der Geest is a researcher on digital rights and internet governance. Views expressed in this article are the author's own. Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries and analyses by experts and professionals. 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