Zelenskyy asks Trump to help him get Elon Musk's OK to use Starlink to help with strikes on Russia
By Maya Ellison · Reporting from Detroit ·
The moment you realize that a nation’s ability to defend itself—its very survival—is contingent on getting permission from a single tech titan is when you understand where real power resides.
The Private Company of War
The moment you realize that a nation’s ability to defend itself—its very survival—is contingent on getting permission from a single tech titan is when you understand where real power resides. This week's Washington drama confirms it: Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, desperate for ways to counter Russian missile and drone attacks, pitched Donald Trump and other American officials on securing Elon Musk’s OK to use Starlink inside Russia. The goal? To guide strikes deep into enemy territory, mitigating the depletion of U.S. Patriot air defense systems.
The reporting from apnews.com and theatlantic.com lays out a dizzying picture: Zelenskyy has been making this case for weeks, culminating in direct pleas to Trump during his visit to Washington. The ask is profound—to leverage private infrastructure (Starlink) where the state apparatus (US defense systems) is failing or withdrawing support. When Trump was questioned on the matter, he remained noncommittal, walking away from previous commitments regarding interceptor licenses. This isn't a failure of military coordination; it’s a structural crisis of sovereignty, one that demands we follow the money—and the power—downward.
The Failure to Fund Basic Defense Means Calling Tech Gods for Help
We are witnessing the ultimate privatization of conflict. When national security becomes dependent on whether Musk is feeling charitable enough to grant access to his satellites, it tells us everything about the state of American industrial policy and global alliances.
The US government—the supposed guarantor of democratic stability—is failing its allies by allowing critical defense assets (like Patriot interceptors) to dwindle while simultaneously having key political figures like Trump appear unreliable on commitment. The narrative being pushed is that Ukraine needs advanced targeting systems, not just more hardware; they need reliable, enduring connectivity.
This pattern echoes the geopolitical reality of the Korean War. In that conflict, the survival of South Korea was fundamentally dependent on the strategic intervention and material support provided by external great powers—the United Nations Command led by the US. The mechanism is identical: a contested state cannot sustain itself solely on its own resources against overwhelming force; it requires massive, externally managed lifelines. But now, that lifeline isn't just military aid; it’s private bandwidth.
When Global Infrastructure Becomes a Commodity of Favor
The fact remains that Musk has allowed use only within Ukrainian territory—including occupied regions—but strictly restricted its use inside Russia. The stakes are too high for mere business decisions. Two NATO-nation intelligence services, as reported by the Associated Press in December, already suspect Russia is developing anti-satellite weapons aimed directly at Starlink’s constellation. This isn't a simple aid package; this is an existential battle over who controls the orbital commons.
The lesson here—the one that resonates from Flint to Kyiv—is that concentrated wealth buys concentrated power, and when that power is leveraged in global conflict, it bypasses democratic will entirely. The cost of deregulation, whether it's environmental or geopolitical, always lands on the vulnerable zip codes first.
This reliance on private favor proves that the rules governing modern warfare are no longer national; they are corporate. We cannot afford to treat Starlink as merely a communication tool; we must see it as an essential utility whose control is being weaponized by concentrated interest. The true cost of this geopolitical vulnerability isn't measured in dollars, but in the erosion of state sovereignty itself.