By Qaiser Nawab
In an era where data is currency and communication infrastructure forms the backbone of national security, the entry of any foreign-controlled satellite internet service into Pakistan must be scrutinized with due diligence and foresight. The recent discussions surrounding the potential approval of Elon Musk’s Starlink service in Pakistan have triggered a wave of concern among policymakers, security analysts, and citizens alike. While proponents cite expanded internet coverage and increased connectivity, critics warn of far-reaching consequences that could compromise Pakistan’s sovereignty, pose national security threats, and violate the personal privacy rights of its citizens. The stakes are simply too high to ignore.
Starlink, operated by SpaceX, a private American aerospace company, relies on a mega-constellation of thousands of low-Earth-orbit (LEO) satellites to provide high-speed internet access globally. This technology, on the surface, appears to offer benefits—particularly for remote areas with limited fiber-optic coverage. However, beneath the promise of convenience lies a critical dilemma: the inability of host countries to control the data streams and communication protocols routed through this foreign-operated network. In short, Starlink could bypass Pakistan’s national gateways, routing sensitive data directly to foreign servers, far from the jurisdiction of domestic regulatory bodies.
Such a scenario raises profound questions about sovereignty. Telecommunications in any country must adhere to national frameworks for cybersecurity, surveillance, emergency response, and lawful interception. When data bypasses these checkpoints, it risks falling into foreign hands—potentially including those of adversarial intelligence services. This is not speculative. In several countries where similar satellite systems have been deployed without sufficient oversight, authorities later discovered unauthorized access to government and military communication channels. In the case of Pakistan—a country often targeted for espionage—these risks are particularly acute.
Senators from various political parties have already voiced strong opposition. Senator Palwasha Khan, a vocal member of the Senate Standing Committee on Information Technology and Telecommunication, has called for an apology from Elon Musk over disparaging remarks made about Pakistan in earlier public statements. She emphasized that no licensing discussion can proceed while such disinformation remains unaddressed. Similarly, Senator Afnan Ullah Khan raised red flags regarding Starlink’s potential use for bypassing the oversight mechanisms that Pakistan
Telecommunication Authority (PTA) has in place. Their concerns are not merely political—they reflect deeper anxieties about a technology whose implications remain largely unchecked in developing countries.
One of the fundamental risks relates to the communication infrastructure Starlink utilizes. Unlike conventional services, Starlink operates outside national fiber-optic and undersea cable systems. Its space-based framework allows it to function independently, with minimal dependence on local ISPs. While this autonomy is often marketed as a feature, in national security terms, it is a bug. Without technical tethering to domestic systems, Pakistan’s capacity to monitor, restrict, or suspend the service in times of crisis becomes severely limited.
Moreover, experts argue that such systems can interfere with existing spectrum usage. Pakistan’s national infrastructure—including air traffic control, emergency services, banking communication systems, and military networks—operates on finely tuned frequencies. Introducing a mega-constellation of satellites transmitting data in overlapping bands may produce technical disruptions, compromising the effectiveness and safety of critical services. In particular, the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority has highlighted the importance of avoiding frequency overlaps that could jeopardize ongoing operations across various ministries and departments.
Adding to the concern is the complete lack of data localization. Under current models, Starlink data is neither stored in Pakistan nor subject to Pakistani data protection laws. Users connecting via Starlink would effectively operate in a legal grey zone—outside the surveillance capabilities of the Federal Investigation Agency’s cybercrime wing, and beyond the remit of the country’s newly adopted Personal Data Protection Bill.
In a country with rising cyber threats and an already complex security landscape, this loophole represents a significant vulnerability.
Financially, too, the project appears unsustainable for the average Pakistani citizen. The price of acquiring Starlink hardware is reportedly over Rs 110,000, with monthly subscriptions exceeding Rs 35,000. For a country where the per capita income is under $1,600 annually, and where more than 40% of the population lives below the poverty line, this cost structure is exclusionary. Starlink may promise digital inclusion but its economics promote digital elitism. Such exclusivity could deepen the digital divide rather than bridge it.
Pakistan has made concerted efforts to build its digital infrastructure through public-private partnerships, government-backed programs, and universal service funds. The Universal Service Fund (USF), in particular, has subsidized broadband deployment in underserved regions, laying the groundwork for inclusive digital growth. If Starlink were to undercut these initiatives by offering premium-priced services to niche audiences, it could stall or even reverse progress made by local operators such as PTCL, StormFiber, Nayatel, Jazz, and Zong. Moreover, the entry of an unregulated foreign competitor might discourage further domestic investment in the telecom sector, reducing innovation and service expansion.
The debate about Starlink’s entry also opens a broader conversation about technological sovereignty. Countries around the world are beginning to assert greater control over the digital space. From India’s data localization laws to the European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), the message is clear: data must reside within national boundaries, and digital infrastructure must comply with domestic legal frameworks.
Pakistan, too, must establish its digital independence before opening the gates to private foreign entities whose operational motives may not align with national interests.Lastly, it is essential to remember that Starlink is not merely an internet provider—it is a component of a much larger technological empire with close ties to military and intelligence circles. SpaceX, the parent company, is a major contractor for the U.S. Department of Defense and has launched numerous classified payloads on behalf of American intelligence agencies. While such affiliations may be acceptable within U.S. borders, allowing their direct operations within Pakistan—especially without exhaustive scrutiny—is both imprudent and potentially dangerous.
The approval of Starlink’s operation in Pakistan demands a comprehensive national debate involving all stakeholders—government, parliament, regulators, civil society, and the public. Decisions must be rooted in national interest, not driven by market hype or global tech trends. Until adequate regulatory frameworks, cybersecurity protocols, and data privacy laws are in place, allowing Starlink to operate freely within Pakistan would constitute an abdication of responsibility in safeguarding the nation’s digital future.
The price of connectivity cannot be sovereignty. And the promise of speed must never outpace the duty of security.
About the Author:
Qaiser Nawab is an international policy researcher and the Chairman of the Belt and Road Initiative for Sustainable Development (BRISD), as well as a tech entrepreneur based in Pakistan. He advocates for affordable internet for all, digital rights, multilateral diplomacy, youth engagement, and inclusive global trade. He can be reached at qaisernawab098@gmail.com
