Space technologies and the war over Lebanon

As hostilities between Hezbollah and Israel intensified, space technologies moved from the margins of conflict to its core. Satellite internet networks maintained communications where infrastructure collapsed, while commercial imaging systems documented strikes, infrastructure damage, and military positioning across southern Lebanon in near real time.

Isobel Porteous, a space and arms control researcher who co-leads a satellite company developing GPS-independent positioning technology, said the change lies as much in who controls these capabilities as in the capabilities themselves. Speaking with The Beiruter, she described a system in which functions traditionally held by states—communications, surveillance, and verification—are increasingly operated by private companies, often beyond clear national or international oversight. The implications, she noted, extend beyond access, shifting control over how information is produced, distributed, and used during conflict.

Satellite networks beyond the state

Satellite internet has become a critical layer of wartime infrastructure, sustaining communications where terrestrial networks have been degraded or destroyed. Starlink, a satellite network operated by SpaceX, has been used by civilians, humanitarian organizations, and government entities to maintain connectivity during disruptions.

Porteous describes the system as widely accessible and relatively easy to deploy. But she emphasizes that its structure introduces a different set of constraints. Because the network is owned and controlled by SpaceX, decisions about access, coverage, and use sit with a private company rather than a national authority.

Those decisions, she explains, carry political and military consequences that states may struggle to influence. In previous conflicts, including Ukraine, the ability of the company to shape access to the network highlighted how a private actor can exercise authority traditionally associated with governments. 

Users in states like Lebanon adopting Starlink service need to be aware that they are contracting with a commercial actor, subject to corporate policies, with relatively little national or international governance.

She also points to a key vulnerability. Starlink operates as a shared, multi-purpose system. Civilian users, hospitals, and military actors may rely on the same network. In such cases, a disruption targeting one user group can affect others.

Porteous warns that this creates exposure in contested environments. An attack intended to degrade military communications could also sever connectivity for civilian infrastructure, including medical facilities, as both operate through the same system.

Lebanon’s turn to Starlink

Lebanon’s engagement with satellite internet accelerated in 2025. In October of that year, the cabinet granted Starlink a two-year license to operate across the country, following months of negotiations and direct contact between Elon Musk and President Joseph Aoun. The agreement included a revenue-sharing structure significantly higher than global norms, with 25 percent of gross subscriber income allocated to the Lebanese state.

As the conflict escalated, the government expanded the system’s role. In March 2026, citing exceptional wartime conditions and large-scale displacement, authorities authorized the use of Starlink by government bodies, embassies, and humanitarian organizations.

Porteous situates this decision within a broader strategic tradeoff. Lebanon gains access to resilient communications infrastructure at a moment of acute need. At the same time, it does so through a system it does not control.

She argues that this does not leave Lebanon without agency.

What Lebanon can do is adopt such commercial space services on its own terms, working with SpaceX directly, rather than waiting for international standards to develop.

At the same time, recent regulatory changes have raised concerns. Amendments to the licensing framework removed earlier provisions requiring security oversight, allowing the system to operate without a fully established control structure. This introduces risks related to data governance and oversight, particularly in a conflict setting.

Porteous places these developments within a wider gap in international regulation. Existing legal frameworks governing space activity remain limited. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty establishes principles for the peaceful use of space but does not address issues such as signal interference, targeting of satellite systems, or the role of private operators in conflict.

Seeing the war from orbit

If satellite internet has reshaped communication, commercial satellite imagery is redefining how the war is documented. For decades, high-resolution imagery of conflict zones was controlled by governments and classified within intelligence systems. That model has shifted.

Porteous argues that the expansion of commercial satellite imagery has fundamentally changed that equation, with the overhead record no longer restricted to state actors.

She points to the scale of that shift.

Today, a Lebanese research institution, a Beirut-based journalist, or a government ministry can purchase recent high-resolution imagery of southern Lebanon, of Israeli military positions, of bridge damage. This kind of data used to exist only inside classified U.S. intelligence files.

Companies such as Planet Labs and BlackSky have made imagery available at speeds and price points that allow a wider set of actors to access and use it. During the conflict, this capability has been used to track damage to infrastructure across southern Lebanon, including repeated strikes on bridges over the Litani River and changes in military positioning. In many cases, this information has been disseminated in near real time.

Redefining “ground truth”

This shift is changing the meaning of “ground truth.” Traditionally, the term referred to physical verification of what satellite imagery depicted. Porteous notes that the relationship has evolved, as satellite imagery is now frequently used as the verification layer itself.

She cautions, however, against treating it as a complete account. Satellite data provides a view of physical changes over time. It does not capture intent, causation, or the human experience of events.

Instead, she points to a combined approach. In contexts where access is restricted or dangerous, such as parts of southern Lebanon, satellite imagery can support reporting by establishing timelines, verifying claims, and documenting patterns.

For Porteous, the most effective use of these tools lies in integration. Local reporting and satellite data, used together, strengthen the evidentiary basis of coverage and expand the capacity for documentation and accountability.

Private infrastructure, public consequences

As these systems expand, they are becoming embedded in the structure of conflict. Porteous says companies like SpaceX and commercial ISR providers now function as part of the infrastructure of war, providing communications networks, imagery, and analytical inputs that shape how events are understood

Their operational model differs from that of governments. Commercial providers can deliver imagery and data within hours, without the delays associated with classification or interagency review. This has accelerated the pace at which information circulates during the conflict.

At the same time, control remains concentrated.

“Companies that make coverage possible can also decide when it disappears,” Porteous notes.

SpaceX constraining Starlink service in Ukraine and Planet blacking out Middle East imagery at U.S. government request are examples of private actors exercising what amounts to sovereign-level judgment.

She argues that this reflects a gap in existing legal frameworks. The rules governing space activity have not kept pace with a landscape in which private companies operate global systems with direct implications for conflict.

Lebanon’s position in a changing system

Lebanon enters this environment with both constraints and emerging capabilities.

The country maintains a formal remote sensing institution, the National Center for Remote Sensing, which develops and manages Earth observation data and operates advanced analytical infrastructure. Its partnerships, however, have largely been with European and Chinese institutions, rather than with the U.S.-based commercial providers now shaping the market.

At the same time, access to commercial imagery has expanded the range of actors able to analyze developments on Lebanese territory. Government institutions, researchers, and journalists can now obtain data that was historically inaccessible.

Porteous emphasizes that this creates both opportunity and exposure.

For Lebanon specifically, systems shaping the communications and documentation of what is happening on Lebanese territory are owned and operated by commercial companies, answerable primarily to American government customers and shareholders.

The result is a shift in how key functions of conflict are distributed. Connectivity and visibility remain available, but their provision and control increasingly sit outside the state. For Porteous, this does not eliminate the role of governments, but places them alongside commercial actors whose decisions can carry strategic consequences. In Lebanon’s case, the challenge is not only to manage that dependence, but to build the capacity to use these systems effectively.