OPINION | Deviating from BEE laws to accommodate Starlink is perilous

President Cyril Ramaphosa and Tesla founder Elon Musk. File photo.
President Cyril Ramaphosa and Tesla founder Elon Musk. File photo.
Image: SA government/X

As SA deliberates over proposed amendments to its ICT regulatory regime that would enable SpaceX’s Starlink to operate locally without complying with established Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) ownership requirements, a far-reaching policy and security conversation demands urgent attention.

The debate is not merely one of connectivity versus bureaucracy. At its heart lies a deeper and more complex national question: should SA dilute hard-fought empowerment legislation and strategic oversight in favour of expedient technological access offered by a foreign tech conglomerate led by one of the world’s most polarising entrepreneurs?

Starlink’s constellation of low Earth orbit (LEO) satellites promises to connect the most isolated corners of SA to high-speed internet. In a country still grappling with stark digital inequality — and where terrestrial infrastructure development has been uneven — this appears, on the surface, to be a transformative solution.

Yet the allure of ubiquitous broadband access must not obscure the risks posed by yielding regulatory ground to powerful external actors. SpaceX, under Elon Musk’s stewardship, is no ordinary commercial entity. Its operational reach extends into military applications, sensitive geopolitical domains, and critical digital infrastructure.

Its public positioning as an agent of global connectivity often masks the more opaque implications of its integration into sovereign communications frameworks.

Permitting a deviation from BEE obligations to accommodate Starlink would not merely constitute a regulatory anomaly; it would mark a significant precedent in how SA calibrates its economic transformation objectives against international corporate interests.

The introduction of dominant, unregulated foreign actors into national markets can distort regional development and limit the competitiveness of domestic service providers.

SA’s empowerment architecture was not designed to be selectively enforced, nor should it be pliable in the face of lobbying by high-profile multinationals. Such concessions risk eroding confidence in both the principle and application of economic justice — at a time when public trust in institutions is already under strain.

Moreover, Musk’s ventures — be it Starlink, Tesla, or X (formerly Twitter) — have increasingly come to embody the tension between technological innovation and democratic accountability. His public threats to suspend or modify critical services, including the deactivation of spacecraft serving the US space programme, have shown how personal discretion can be wielded over essential infrastructure.

This pattern of erratic and highly centralised decision-making should give pause to policymakers contemplating long-term dependencies on such actors.

SA is not alone in grappling with the implications of LEO satellite integration. Around the world, governments are re-evaluating the regulatory, cybersecurity, and sovereignty questions raised by the rise of global satellite networks.

These networks, though promising as connectivity solutions, also possess the capacity to bypass traditional oversight mechanisms, undermine data localisation efforts, and create informational asymmetries.

Particularly concerning is the asymmetry in bargaining power between governments and transnational tech entities. SA, like many developing countries, is at risk of being drawn into digital frameworks over which it has minimal control — thus weakening its ability to govern the infrastructure critical to its economic, social, and security futures.

It is also important to consider the extraterritorial impact of licensing decisions. In an interconnected region, policies adopted by one state may have spillover effects on others, complicating regulatory harmonisation, cross-border data protections, and enforcement.

The introduction of dominant, unregulated foreign actors into national markets can therefore distort regional development and limit the competitiveness of domestic service providers.

Public Interest SA, in its formal submission to the department of communications and digital technologies, has advocated for a cautious and principled approach. This includes the full alignment of any policy or licensing concessions with SA’s constitutional mandates, as well as with data protection and cybersecurity legislation such as the Electronic Communications and Transactions Act, the Protection of Personal Information Act, and the Cybercrimes Act.

To ensure coherence and enforceability, we further recommend the consolidation of regulatory provisions into a single, comprehensive Omnibus Bill that centres sovereignty, public accountability, and inclusive development.

LEO satellite connectivity is undeniably a valuable frontier. However, it must be approached within a regulatory and ethical framework that is not easily swayed by the charisma or capital of foreign tech magnates. SA must remain vigilant in safeguarding its policy integrity, protecting its data sovereignty, and upholding its constitutional imperatives of redress and equity.

What is at stake is far greater than internet access. It is the future shape of our digital nationhood, the strength of our regulatory institutions, and our ability to determine our own developmental trajectory in a world increasingly dominated by borderless, powerful private actors. In deciding how — and whether — to welcome Starlink, SA must prioritise not just the benefits of connectivity, but the responsibilities of stewardship.

• Khaas is chairperson of Public Interest SA and fellow of the Internet Service Providers Association (ISPA)

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