Greenland Ditches Starlink for French Satellite Service
In a notable realignment of its digital infrastructure, Greenland has opted to terminate its agreement with Starlink and transition to a French-based satellite service provider. The decision signals a strategic pivot in how the world’s largest island approaches its telecommunications future within the challenging Arctic landscape. By aligning with France’s Eutelsat instead of relying on Starlink’s low-Earth orbit (LEO) constellation, Greenland is redefining its connectivity roadmap—prioritizing coverage stability, geopolitical considerations, and integration with European digital networks.
This move reshapes the narrative on Arctic broadband access, underscoring how sovereign interests and technical performance are shaping the digital future of remote, high-latitude regions.
Greenland's telecommunications network faces a set of hurdles shaped by geography, isolation, and climate. With a population barely exceeding 56,000 and communities scattered along a glaciated coastline, building a robust, coast-to-coast digital backbone across the world’s largest island becomes an engineering conundrum. Cellular connectivity exists in pockets, but consistent high-speed broadband remains elusive outside major towns.
Under the seabed lies Greenland Connect—a single undersea fiber-optic cable system linking the island to Iceland and onward to Denmark. Commissioned in late 2009 and operated by Tele Greenland (now Tusass), this system serves as the arterial link between Greenland and the global internet. A spur branches off to Nuuk, but elsewhere, the connection thins rapidly. Cities like Sisimiut and Aasiaat lack direct access to the cable and rely instead on satellite relay.
Topographically, over 80% of Greenland’s surface is buried under an ice sheet up to 3 kilometers thick. The island's settlements cling to the ice-free western and southeastern coasts, often separated by untraversable terrain. Snowstorms disrupt microwave towers. Permafrost challenges tower stability. Maintenance crews must travel by helicopter or frozen fjord. Each village turned signal outpost battles both nature and physics daily.
Given these constraints, satellite internet isn’t just an alternative—it’s a necessity. For over a decade, geostationary satellites have acted as lifelines for communities beyond cable reach. But the latency, bandwidth restrictions, and high operating fees have long capped potential. That’s where emerging low-Earth orbit (LEO) systems enter, promising agility in a landscape where wires cannot go.
SpaceX launched Starlink with a goal that extended far beyond urban markets. Elon Musk envisioned a global mesh of internet satellites encircling the planet, beaming high-speed internet to even the most geographically isolated regions. Conceived as a response to the glaring gaps in terrestrial infrastructure, Starlink positioned itself as a disruptor to entrenched telecom networks—especially in hard-to-reach areas like the Arctic wilderness.
To accomplish this, SpaceX deployed a constellation of low Earth orbit (LEO) satellites, each orbiting at approximately 550 km altitude. Compared to traditional geostationary satellites that operate at about 35,786 km, this altitude slashes latency significantly. This LEO configuration allows for a more responsive internet experience, narrowing the digital divide that plagues remote communities.
In 2022, Starlink established presence across parts of the global north, including Alaska, northern Canada, parts of Scandinavia, and Greenland. Nuuk, Sisimiut, and Ilulissat saw installations of Starlink terminals as part of Greenland's early adoption initiatives. The rollout involved private users, small businesses, and even emergency services operating in remote settlements.
Starlink’s Arctic deployment coincided with increased demand for reliable bandwidth to support telemedicine, remote education, and environmental monitoring infrastructure. With most of Greenland’s settlements scattered along the icy coastlines, laying fiber remained cost-prohibitive. Satellite became both the technologically viable and economically logical bridge.
Starlink’s LEO architecture brought immediate performance upgrades over legacy satellite systems. Latency hovered between 20–40 milliseconds, compared to 600+ milliseconds offered by traditional GEO satellites. Real-time applications—video conferencing, cloud services, and VoIP—became feasible where they previously weren’t.
Peak download speeds reached up to 250 Mbps under optimal conditions, with upload speeds surpassing 30 Mbps. For remote Greenlandic clinics and mobile Arctic research stations, this created a seismic shift in capabilities. Starlink equipment also leaned into portability; terminals could be mounted on sleds, boats, or even helicopters, enabling dynamic connectivity.
Starlink redefined the technical benchmark for Arctic internet access. Yet its arrival also raised geopolitical, infrastructural, and commercial questions that would soon challenge its dominance in Greenland’s skies.
Greenland's vast, rugged terrain defies conventional infrastructure. With over 80% of the island covered by an ice sheet, laying fiber optic cables is neither logistically feasible nor economically justifiable across most regions. Satellite internet, therefore, operates not as a convenience but as a necessity—bridging icy isolation with real-world connection.
Measured not by fiber miles but by megabit access, satellite connectivity delivers the backbone for daily functions in Greenlandic communities. Education depends on reliable links to distant teachers and digital curricula. Telemedicine systems stay functional only with stable upstream and downstream speeds. Small businesses in villages like Qaanaaq or Ittoqqortoormiit reach national markets through e-commerce platforms, while public administration depends on real-time communications between Nuuk and outposts scattered along the coastline.
Usage patterns in Greenland vary sharply depending on geography, population density, and proximity to existing infrastructure. Nuuk, home to a third of the population, consumes high bandwidth for both residential and commercial demands, while isolated settlements may prioritize low-latency medical and educational uses. Data from Tele Greenland indicates that per capita internet usage in urban zones is 220 GB per month, compared to just 45 GB per capita in remote settlements like Kullorsuaq.
Local bandwidth needs also shift seasonally. During winter months, when travel is limited, the reliance on digital communication increases by as much as 35% in areas with no road connections. Seasonal fisheries, operating in western coastal towns, drive spikes in online transactions and logistics data transfers during peak months.
What role does satellite play in this mosaic of connectivity needs? It fills the gaps where fiber ends, offering symmetrical bandwidth in places where geography erases any chance of terrestrial lines. In Greenland, every megabit delivered by orbit matters, because it sustains more than communication—it sustains community.
In Greenland's pivot away from Starlink, French satellite leaders Eutelsat and Thales have assumed a pivotal role. Eutelsat, headquartered in Paris, operates a fleet of more than 35 satellites with service coverage across Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and significant polar reach. Thales Alenia Space, a joint venture between Thales Group and Leonardo, contributes cutting-edge payload integration and advanced telecommunications infrastructure.
Both companies supply Ka-band satellites capable of delivering high-throughput broadband with targeted beamforming. Eutelsat's KONNECT and KONNECT VHTS platforms, for instance, can deliver up to 500 Gbps of capacity and are designed to serve remote and rugged regions with optimized performance. The French approach integrates commercial satellite services with government-backed technological and security protocols, giving them a public-private flexibility that contrasts with the corporate-reliant Starlink model.
Compare core performance metrics, and the divergence becomes clear. Starlink operates through a dense low-Earth orbit (LEO) constellation—over 5,500 satellites as of early 2024—delivering latency as low as 20 ms and speeds ranging from 25 Mbps to over 250 Mbps, depending on location and terminal configuration. Its spare latency and sweeping coverage serve mobility well, especially in vehicles, aircraft, and ships.
French operators adopt different architectures. Eutelsat’s KONNECT VHTS, launched in 2022, operates in geostationary orbit (GEO). Though latency is higher—roughly 600 ms due to orbital distance—bandwidth consistency and centralized ground station control favor stability in fixed broadband contexts. Thales, meanwhile, co-develops hybrid LEO-GEO solutions tailored to European defense and civilian markets, blending shorter latency with wide coverage.
Reliability depends not only on technology but integration. Starlink updates its firmware continuously and monitors network load dynamically. However, in remote polar contexts, ground station availability and infrastructural compatibility can constrain performance. French systems, while grounded in institutional partnerships, embed redundancy at the satellite and gateway level, often granting more predictable uptime for critical services.
The satellite broadband sector has entered a phase of multipolar rivalry. Starlink, backed by SpaceX’s rapid launch cadence, dominates in deployment scale and consumer brand recognition. Yet European incumbents are countering with strategic capacity, sovereign alignment, and security protocols that appeal to government clients and public utilities.
Consider bandwidth cost structures. Starlink maintains a flat monthly rate in most global markets—typically around $90 to $120 USD—whereas Eutelsat often negotiates tiered rates with local suppliers and national telecom agencies, providing more administrative control but less consumer cost transparency. The French model appeals to nations seeking economic inclusion and infrastructure equity, while Starlink targets instant scalability and digital minimalism.
As Greenland repositions its digital strategy, these operational contrasts between Starlink and its French alternatives sharpen into a contest not just of performance or cost—but of sovereignty, governance, and strategic alignment in the skies above the Arctic.
Greenland’s pivot from Starlink to a French satellite provider highlights more than a technical change—it signals a strategic realignment. Telecommunications decisions increasingly echo deeper geopolitical and economic considerations, and in this case, Greenland is shaping its digital infrastructure with an eye on long-term sovereignty and partnership leverage.
Continuous, high-quality internet coverage in Greenland's extreme environment demands not only robust technology but also consistent performance. French satellite solutions, while less commercially aggressive than Starlink, bring stability through governmental frameworks and well-established engineering disciplines. They operate within the bounds of European regulatory environments that Greenland, as a self-governing territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, aligns with culturally and politically. This creates synergy on data governance, spectrum management, and infrastructure ownership that fits within Greenland’s strategic development goals.
More significantly, political alignment with European entities reduces the unpredictability associated with decisions made by powerful individuals, such as Elon Musk, whose business strategy with Starlink often intersects with geopolitical interests outside Greenland’s control. A French-led partnership offers insulation from that complexity.
The decision to turn toward France opens the door to a wider terrain of collaboration. Greenland's state-owned telecommunications company, Tusass, may enter into formal agreements for infrastructure sharing, launch support, or joint R&D with French aerospace and satellite firms such as Thales Alenia Space or Airbus Defence and Space. These players bring decades of military-grade satellite management and an established place within EU space policy frameworks. Through such collaboration, Greenland can lock in benefits ranging from technology transfer to data sovereignty assurances.
For example, a co-managed ground station in Nuuk or a joint-operated low Earth orbit (LEO) gateway could serve both technical and political interests—delivering broadband with guaranteed service levels and anchoring Greenland’s role in broader Arctic communications routes.
Greenland is not unique in seeking strategic alternatives to monopolized satellite internet services. Countries including India, Brazil, and South Africa have ramped up domestic space programs, brokered new satellite deals with trusted allies, or, like Greenland, leaned into European partnerships. These moves counterbalance the influence of single-vendor solutions and reflect a growing trend of nations asserting control over their digital landscapes.
Such partnerships create ecosystems of shared standards, encrypted communications protocols, and regionally adaptive service models. Rather than relying on purely commercial constellations, these networks balance innovation with risk mitigation. The result is a fragmented, yet increasingly diversified global connectivity map—where access is shaped as much by diplomacy as by technology.
Greenland’s decision to pivot away from Starlink goes beyond bandwidth and latency—it reflects deeper concerns over who controls the information pipelines threading into remote national territories. At the heart of the discussion lies the reliance on U.S.-based infrastructure, with Starlink operating under the federal jurisdiction of the United States and Elon Musk’s SpaceX. This dependency introduces strategic vulnerabilities that Greenland’s policymakers are no longer willing to overlook.
The issue intensifies under the lens of the U.S. CLOUD Act (Clarifying Lawful Overseas Use of Data), which gives the U.S. government access to data held by American companies, even if the data is stored abroad. For Greenland, this transforms a commercial agreement into a geopolitical concession—connecting via Starlink potentially subjects Greenlandic data to non-domestic oversight and foreign legal frameworks.
Satellite networks form a new layer of digital territory—what the European Union calls “critical infrastructure.” Greenland’s government has raised legitimate cybersecurity concerns tied to routing vital communications through foreign-owned and controlled assets. Signals moving over Starlink terminals pass through an architecture that is subject not only to market signals but national security priorities of another state.
French satellite provider Eutelsat, in contrast, operates under European Union law, which enshrines strict privacy and data protection standards through instruments like the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). Choosing a European-based provider shifts the data jurisdiction into a more familiar and legally coherent landscape for Greenland’s institutions—one where transparency mechanisms have existing diplomatic and legal alignment.
Greenland’s geography places it at a critical intersection of Arctic interest from both European and North American powers. As Arctic shipping lanes expand and mineral reserves draw attention, digital self-determination now joins energy and defense as priority national interests. Telecommunications, handled exclusively by foreign entities, dilutes Greenland’s leverage in regional policy decisions.
Calls for digital autonomy are echoing through discussions in Nuuk’s political corridors. By transitioning away from Starlink, Greenland is not only choosing one satellite over another—it’s marking territory in an increasingly contested digital Arctic. Who controls the internet uplink also influences whose voice commands the narrative.
In the race for control over digital gateways in the Arctic, Greenland is redrawing the boundaries of its own connectivity—not just by bandwidth, but by the flag that flies over the satellite dish.
Greenland's shift from SpaceX’s Starlink to a French satellite service loops the island into a larger struggle playing out far above the Arctic Circle—one between American techno-capitalism and European digital sovereignty. At the core of this geopolitical tension stand two vastly different players: Elon Musk’s rapidly expanding space empire and a state-backed European project designed to redraw the rules of global digital infrastructure.
By 2024, Starlink had deployed over 5,000 satellites in low-Earth orbit, offering broadband coverage in nearly 60 countries. The constellation operates under SpaceX, which is privately owned but deeply intertwined with U.S. government contracts. Beyond internet, SpaceX serves agencies like NASA and the Department of Defense, embedding Starlink within a politicized web of U.S. strategic influence.
Musk himself has pressed into foreign policy debates—tweeting about conflicts in Ukraine, offering proposals on Taiwan, and hosting conversations with heads of state. His visibility and influence led European policymakers to question the neutrality of a service controlled from Silicon Valley. To some, relying on Starlink for Arctic communications handed an American billionaire a strategic listening post on sensitive geopolitical terrain.
France responded through institutional strength rather than private ambition. Working through the European Union, the French government advocates for a sovereign digital ecosystem. In 2023, the EU launched IRIS² (Infrastructure for Resilience, Interconnectivity and Security by Satellite), a €2.4 billion public-private satellite network designed to compete with commercial constellations like Starlink.
Unlike Starlink’s first-mover strategy, IRIS² emphasizes controlled governance, encrypted communications, and inclusion of EU partners and strategic allies. By offering Greenland access to the service, France positioned itself not only as a tech supplier but as a geopolitical ally seeking to curb American tech influence in Europe’s near-Arctic periphery.
Geographically Arctic but politically tied to Denmark and, by extension, the EU, Greenland occupies a fragile midpoint. The United States operates the Thule Air Base on its far northwest coast, emphasizing strategic ties forged during the Cold War. The European Union invests heavily in Greenland’s infrastructure and fisheries, offering grants under the Partnership Agreement.
Choosing between Starlink and a French-led satellite platform was never a purely technical decision. It reflected Greenland's calculated navigation between two global poles—Washington and Brussels. Opting into a European-backed system allows Nuuk to retain bandwidth sovereignty while remaining within the fold of democratic consensus-building rather than commercial dependency.
At 74° North, digital infrastructure is diplomacy by other means—channeled through ground stations, satellites, and sovereign contracts that quietly redraw the map of global influence.
The pivot from Starlink to the French satellite provider didn’t materialize overnight. Greenland’s shift unfolded through a phased review that began in early 2023, following a series of latency and reliability evaluations conducted by Tele Greenland (Tusass) in cooperation with external auditors. By mid-2023, technical assessments had been finalized, revealing consistent service interruptions in remote settlements, particularly during auroral weather events. These findings catalyzed internal consultations across multiple departments.
By October 2023, the Ministry of Mineral Resources and Justice, which oversees digital infrastructure projects, convened a dedicated task force. It included representatives from the state-owned telecom operator, legal advisors specializing in international telecom law, and members of Greenland’s digital sovereignty advisory panel. Final approval was issued in March 2024 during a cabinet meeting led by Premier Múte Bourup Egede.
Greenland’s government operates its telecom oversight through an inter-ministerial approach. The Ministry of Housing, Infrastructure and Digitalization provided the technical audit framework and coordinated with Tele Greenland to compile telecom performance metrics. Meanwhile, the Agency for Digital Greenland drafted risk assessments regarding data governance, particularly in relation to Starlink’s U.S. jurisdiction posture.
Separately, Greenland’s telecom regulatory board, an arm of the Naalakkersuisut administration, reviewed procurement transparency protocols. It administered compliance checks aligned with the Kingdom of Denmark’s joint Nordic telecom framework, ensuring legal continuity while selecting a new provider.
Stakeholder engagement played a tactical role in shaping policy. Throughout Q4 2023, citizens in Qaqortoq, Ilulissat, and smaller coastal villages submitted feedback through digital forums hosted by Tele Greenland's public consultation portal. Over 3,200 comments were logged, with recurring concerns about blackout periods during medical emergencies and school exams under Starlink’s system.
Fishermen’s cooperatives in Disko Bay and infrastructure firms in mining zones also submitted formal petitions. These groups underscored the need for uninterrupted high-frequency comms with international partners and planting remote monitoring sensors in uninhabited zones — scenarios where satellite latency and bandwidth ceilings became mission-critical metrics.
The final report to Parliament included stakeholder sentiment as an appendix, with 76% of submitted opinions expressing support for a change in provider, citing trust in EU-regulated data practices and projected integration with existing European maritime systems.
Greenland's move away from Starlink sets a decisive tone for other Arctic territories—Alaska, Northern Canada, Svalbard, and parts of Scandinavia among them. When one of the most remote and infrastructure-challenged regions pivots from a high-profile U.S.-based provider to a European satellite service, technology planners across the Arctic take notice. The shift signals that satellite internet dominance remains contested, not fixed.
In Nunavut, Canada’s northernmost territory, regional leaders are already exploring diversified satellite partnerships after years of service limitations. Likewise, Norway’s Arctic archipelago of Svalbard, with its strategic importance and meteorological stations, continues to deepen its ties with European digital infrastructure projects.
Greenland’s departure from Starlink complicates plans for Elon Musk’s constellation-derived dominance across the polar belt. While Starlink’s Phase 1 deployment prioritized service in sparsely populated zones, the loss of Greenland as a showcase market reduces visibility in a key geopolitical region. Expansion projections, once confidently targeting small Arctic governments, now require recalibration.
For satellite operators in Europe, particularly those with LEO ambitions under ESA or Eutelsat-led initiatives, this transition acts as an incentive. It demonstrates real-world appetite for alternatives built for regional sovereignty, environmental resilience, and compliance with EU-aligned data governance frameworks. Technical readiness and diplomatic alignment converge to give French-backed systems an edge.
As global powers consolidate digital spheres of influence, Greenland’s decision amplifies Europe’s presence in a region long dominated by North American and Russian communications infrastructure. The Arctic becomes more than a climate battleground—it’s a proving ground for technological allegiance.
From Nuuk to Tromsø, a new narrative of Arctic connectivity is forming—less about megaconstellations blanketing the region and more about tailored collaborations driven by both geography and geopolitics. Whose network will the Arctic truly run on in the next decade? Greenland has just cast an influential vote.
Greenland’s pivot away from Elon Musk’s Starlink to the French satellite service Eutelsat isn’t just a matter of coverage radius or data throughput—it’s a geopolitical inflection point. The transition reshapes satellite broadband in the Arctic and signals a recalibration of digital alliances far from traditional tech battlegrounds.
By choosing Eutelsat over the globally expanding SpaceX internet venture, Greenland placed regional control and long-term strategic compatibility above the promise of low-earth-orbit latency. French satellite architecture offers Greenlandic internet planners a model grounded in European regulatory frameworks and cooperative infrastructure development—not a privately managed constellation with priorities set in Hawthorne, California.
This decision ripples beyond Nuuk. The message is clear: digital sovereignty in remote regions hinges not purely on technical prowess but on the autonomy of choice. Eutelsat’s win carves out a European foothold in an Arctic orbit increasingly crowded by commercial actors and surveillance satellites. Meanwhile, Starlink’s model—scalable, fast, and vertically integrated—faces resistance where national interests outweigh gigabit dreams.
Zoom out, and the Arctic transforms into a theater of competitive collaboration. Connectivity is no longer a secondary concern—it’s the main artery of energy exploration, climate observation, and even defense posture. Greenland may be ice-covered, but its signal to the world comes through loud, warm, and unmistakably political.
The reshaping of satellite broadband in the Arctic is underway. Greenland simply moved first.
