Dependence on satellite communications: Starlink and Starshield in the focus of security policy

Technological innovation or geopolitical risk? The duality of Starlink and Starshield

Starlink vs. Starshield: The digital battle for control of communications

The debate surrounding satellite-based communications, particularly between Starlink and Starshield, has gained urgency in recent years against the backdrop of the Ukraine conflict. These two systems, which emerged from the SpaceX ecosystem, are not only at the center of technological debates but have also become central components of geopolitical strategies. Starlink, as a commercial platform, offers a wide range of internet services for households and businesses, while Starshield focuses on state security and defense needs. These differences between the two systems are not merely technical but also concern issues of control, accountability, and the geopolitical implications arising from their use. Ukraine serves as a prime example in this context: it demonstrates how digital infrastructure is not neutral in war but rather serves as a tool for power, security, and strategic decision-making. This analysis examines how Starlink and Starshield influence the digital sovereignty of modern states, the challenges arising from their use, and the lessons Europe can learn from these developments.

Starlink, Starshield and the price of dependence

Whoever controls the data stream controls more than just the network in a worst-case scenario

The controversy surrounding restrictions on satellite-based communication in Ukraine demonstrates that digital infrastructure in warfare is neither neutral nor purely technical. It is simultaneously a means of production, a security guarantee, a political lever, and an integral part of military operations. At the heart of this debate are two names that are frequently conflated: Starlink and Starshield. Both originate from the SpaceX ecosystem, utilize related technologies, and leverage the advantages of large satellite arrays in low Earth orbit. However, economically, institutionally, and strategically, they are not the same.

Starlink is essentially a commercial communications platform. The system sells internet access to private households, businesses, mobility providers, and public institutions. Starshield, on the other hand, targets government security, defense, and intelligence clients. This not only shifts the user base but also changes the requirements for encryption, control, licensing, operational profiles, contract design, and political accountability. Starlink primarily follows the logic of a scalable platform business, while Starshield more closely aligns with the logic of government-funded security infrastructure.

The crucial question, therefore, is not simply which system is technically more powerful. More important is who decides on access rights, geographical permissions, speed limits, prioritization, and permissible applications. It is precisely at this point that private property rights, government procurement contracts, military chains of command, and foreign policy interests collide. Ukraine is not merely an isolated case. It is the most visible example of a fundamental problem facing modern states: Critical capabilities are increasingly being provided via privately developed and operated digital platforms, even though their failures can have immediate consequences for national security, the economy, and human lives.

A technological family tree with two business logics

Starlink and Starshield are based on a shared industrial foundation. SpaceX develops satellites, manufactures them in large quantities, organizes launches, operates ground infrastructure, and manages the network. This vertical integration is a significant competitive advantage. A company that largely controls launch vehicles, satellites, terminals, software, and network operations in-house can scale up capacity more quickly and implement technical changes faster than providers that rely on external partners at every stage.

Starlink leverages this foundation for a global broadband offering. Thousands of satellites in low Earth orbit form a distributed network through which user terminals send and receive data. The comparatively short distance to Earth reduces signal propagation time compared to traditional geostationary satellites. This enables applications that require not only high bandwidth but also short response times. These include video conferencing, cloud access, real-time communication, mobile connections, and certain control and sensor services.

Starshield adopts key elements of this modular system but is designed for government missions. These include secure communications, Earth observation, and the hosting of specialized payloads on satellite platforms. The difference, therefore, lies not simply in a different tariff or a more robustly designed terminal. Starshield can incorporate custom satellites, additional cryptographic methods, classified payloads, specialized ground architectures, and government-defined operating procedures. It is more accurate to speak of a family of government solutions than of a single, universally identical military network.

The often-used shorthand that Starshield is simply the military version of Starlink is therefore catchy but incomplete. It underestimates the range of possible contract and system configurations. In one case, a state might procure secure communication services on a related network architecture. In another, purpose-built satellites and sensors might be part of a state-controlled system. Technical origin, legal ownership, operational control, and political decision-making power must be considered separately.

Starlink as a scalable platform business

Economically, Starlink relies on high initial investments and sharply declining average costs as utilization increases. Satellite development, production, rocket launches, ground stations, frequency rights, software, and network monitoring require billions of dollars. However, once the infrastructure is in place, every additional paying connection can contribute to covering these fixed costs. This is similar to platform and telecommunications models, but with one key difference: satellites have a limited lifespan and must be replaced regularly. The network is therefore not a one-time investment, but rather an industrial fleet that requires continuous renewal.

The civilian mass market is central to this calculation. Millions of connections spread the costs across a broad customer base. At the same time, Starlink taps into higher-priced segments such as aviation, shipping, enterprise, government, and mobile services. This mix improves revenue quality. Households provide volume, while institutional and mobile customers can pay higher prices for prioritization, coverage, service guarantees, or specialized hardware.

Furthermore, there is an internal economies of scale between space travel and communications. SpaceX can launch its own satellites with its own rockets. A high launch frequency reduces the cost per mission through experience, reuse, and better utilization. Starlink, in turn, creates a continuous demand for launches. This stabilizes the utilization of the rocket infrastructure, while cheaper launches facilitate network expansion. This feedback loop is difficult to replicate and explains a significant part of the advantage over traditional satellite operators.

The business model remains capital-intensive and risky. A growing fleet necessitates replacement investments, monitoring costs, and regulatory burdens. In affluent regions, Starlink competes with fiber optics, cable, and high-performance mobile networks. In poorer or sparsely populated markets, demand is high, but purchasing power is often limited. Economic success therefore depends on acquiring enough high-paying customers in underserved areas and securing high-margin institutional applications.

Starshield as a state-funded security economy

Starshield operates on a different revenue and risk structure. Government customers don't simply buy bandwidth. They pay for availability, security of classified information, mission-specific customization, controlled supply chains, specialized encryption, and integration with military or intelligence systems. Therefore, value stems less from maximum user numbers than from strategic importance and demanding requirements.

In this market, contracts are often longer-term, more complex, and politically sensitive. Development risks can be partially mitigated by government payments. At the same time, documentation requirements, safety regulations, export controls, and dependencies on budgetary decisions are increasing. A supplier can generate high revenues with relatively few clients but faces a significant concentration risk. If a major government client changes priorities, cuts programs, or tightens usage rules, this has a direct impact on the business.

From a government perspective, Starshield is attractive because it allows the use of existing industrial economies of scale. Instead of developing each satellite platform from scratch, proven components, mass production, and frequent launches can be used. This shortens development times and can reduce the cost per unit. Furthermore, a large number of smaller satellites increases resilience to the failure of individual units. In security economics, this shifts the model from a few extremely expensive large satellites to distributed constellations with faster renewal.

This efficiency, however, comes at an institutional price. The more government agencies depend on the production capacity, launch infrastructure, and software of a single company, the greater its structural bargaining power becomes. While the state is both a buyer and a regulator, it also requires capabilities that few other providers can deliver on a comparable scale in the short term. This creates a reciprocal dependency: SpaceX needs government contracts, permits, and institutional trust; the government needs SpaceX for launches, communication, and increasingly, public awareness.

Control is more than ownership

Public debate often focuses on the assertion that Starshield systems are owned and controlled by the US government. While this wording sounds clear, it can obscure various legal and technical realities. In government space programs, the government may own certain satellites, terminals, or payloads, while development, operation, maintenance, or software remain the responsibility of a private contractor. Similarly, a company may retain ownership of the infrastructure, while a government contract establishes comprehensive rights of instruction and use.

For the practical distribution of power, at least five levels must therefore be distinguished. First, there is the ownership of satellites and ground hardware. Second, it is crucial who operates the network software and can implement changes. Third, contracts determine which actor releases or prioritizes resources. Fourth, military command structures define which missions are permitted. Fifth, the political leadership decides on foreign and security policy boundaries.

These levels can diverge. A state can be the formal owner without being able to perform any technical functions itself. A company can operate the software without having the freedom to decide on its military use. A president can set political guidelines, while concrete restrictions arise at subordinate levels, through contract interpretation, or through technical safeguards. Therefore, it would be an oversimplification to automatically attribute every change to a single individual.

Especially with classified systems, a significant portion of the contractual situation remains hidden from the public. Statements from companies, government representatives, and users must therefore be carefully distinguished. If Ukrainian authorities report a restriction and the provider refers to state control, this initially describes the responsibilities of the parties involved. However, it does not yet fully clarify which specific technical command was triggered, when, by which authority, and on what legal basis.

The speed limit as a strategic switch

Reports on speed limits demonstrate how precisely digital infrastructure can control military deployment options. If a terminal loses connection above a certain speed, the network remains usable for stationary facilities, vehicles, or slower platforms, while high-speed systems are excluded. Such a rule is not a complete network outage; it selectively affects specific applications.

From the perspective of a provider or state operator, a speed limit can serve several functions. It can reflect regulatory requirements, prevent unauthorized mobile use, hinder misuse, or limit offensive operations. Technically, this control can also be combined with geofencing (i.e., spatially defined permissions), device identities, tariff profiles, and priority classes. The network thus becomes a programmable infrastructure whose military applications can be designed via software.

The impact is particularly significant for Ukraine because satellite communication is embedded in numerous operations. These include command and control links, situational awareness, reconnaissance, logistics, and communication with unmanned systems. If a connection fails even within a specific speed or operational range, missions must be modified, aborted, or switched to alternative communication channels. The economic consequences extend beyond the immediate military operation: drones, sensors, and ground stations already procured lose some of their effectiveness, personnel must adapt procedures, and scarce resources are tied up in contingency solutions.

A lack of advance warning is particularly problematic. Military systems are planned based on expected availability. If a key parameter changes at short notice, a coordination shock occurs. This can have a more significant operational impact than an announced limitation that users can prepare for. Therefore, the economic value of a communication service lies not only in bandwidth and latency, but also in predictability, contractually guaranteed continuity, and transparent change management procedures.

Civilian use and military effect are difficult to separate cleanly

Elon Musk's distinction between civilian or defensive Starlink applications and offensive military deployments touches on a real problem, but doesn't fully solve it. Modern communication networks are dual-use infrastructures. The same data channel can connect a hospital, a municipal government office, a rescue unit, a reconnaissance team, or an unmanned aerial vehicle. The technical transmission doesn't automatically recognize the political significance of a data packet.

The distinction between defensive and offensive operations is also blurred in practice. An interceptor system that destroys an attacking drone is plausibly considered defensive. However, the sensor data, target coordinates, and communication links required for this are technically similar to the components of a system that attacks a target behind enemy lines. Reconnaissance can serve to protect one's own positions or prepare for a later attack. Logistics can distribute humanitarian aid or supply military units.

This poses significant legal and reputational risks for a commercial enterprise. Excessive military use can trigger export controls, liability issues, and foreign policy conflicts. Conversely, overly stringent restrictions can justify accusations that a private provider is unilaterally interfering with a state's defense capabilities. Therefore, the claim that Starlink is exclusively a civilian network is just as inaccurate as the assertion that every Starlink connection is part of a weapons system.

Starshield is an institutional response to this dilemma. It aims to shift militarily sensitive applications from the ordinary commercial contract framework into a state-controlled environment. This allows for a more formal allocation of responsibility. The state defines missions and operational limits, while the provider supplies technology and operational capacity. However, the problem is not entirely eliminated because both sectors share technological, industrial, and personnel foundations.

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Ukraine as a stress test for digital sovereignty

Since the start of the large-scale Russian invasion, Ukraine has received more than 50,000 Starlink terminals. A significant portion was provided and financed by international partners. Poland played a particularly large role, supplying almost 30,000 devices. This demonstrates that while the infrastructure originates from a US company, its financing and political backing are distributed across several countries.

Starlink proved exceptionally useful because its terminals could be installed, relocated, and replaced relatively quickly. In an environment where terrestrial networks are disrupted by attacks, power outages, and occupation, satellite access provides additional resilience. The large number of satellites makes it difficult to disable the entire system by destroying individual nodes. This made Starlink an example of the military and economic importance of decentralized communication architectures.

At the same time, a lock-in effect emerged. The more authorities, units, hospitals, and infrastructure operators align their processes with a specific system, the higher the switching costs become. Replacement terminals must be procured, users trained, networks integrated, and security procedures adapted. Alternative providers require not only satellite capacity but also available hardware, ground stations, support, and compatible interfaces. Therefore, a dependency can persist even when other satellite services are technically available.

Ukraine also demonstrates that dependency cannot be measured solely by the number of terminals. What matters is which functions run over the respective network. A thousand alternative connections can be strategically valuable if they secure particularly critical command centers. Conversely, they do not automatically replace tens of thousands of widely distributed terminals. Resilience arises from a smart allocation: particularly important applications require multiple communication channels, while less critical users can operate with more cost-effective standard services.

Why Europe cannot replace Starlink in the short term

Eutelsat OneWeb is currently the most visible European alternative. The company operates a constellation in low Earth orbit and supplements this with geostationary capacity. This allows it to handle certain government, corporate, and defense applications. However, its scale is significantly smaller than Starlink's. OneWeb operates only a fraction of the number of satellites and has considerably fewer widely distributed user terminals.

The differences also extend to the network architecture. OneWeb satellites orbit at a higher altitude than many Starlink satellites. This allows each satellite to cover a larger area, but also generally increases signal latency. More important than the sheer number of satellites, however, is the available capacity over a specific region. Due to its dense constellation, numerous beams, and extensive infrastructure over Ukraine, Starlink can provide very large amounts of data. This capacity cannot be fully replicated within a few weeks.

End devices are also a bottleneck. Starlink terminals are mass-produced and relatively inexpensive. Specialized OneWeb solutions can be significantly more expensive. A complete replacement of tens of thousands of devices would therefore incur high upfront costs and require considerable logistical effort. Added to this are installation, maintenance, training, frequency coordination, and integration into existing military networks.

Europe can still gradually reduce its dependence. Eutelsat OneWeb doesn't have to replace Starlink everywhere on a one-to-one basis. Even additional capacity for command centers, critical infrastructure, and selected mobile units increases negotiating power and reliability. Geostationary, medium, and low Earth orbits can be combined. Terrestrial microwave links, mobile communications, fiber optics, and radio networks also remain relevant. The economically sound goal is not a prestigious duplicate, but a multi-layered communication system without a single point of failure.

IRIS² is strategically sound, but not a replacement for emergencies

The European Union is building its own secure satellite constellation, IRIS². The program connects low and medium orbits and is intended to provide governmental and commercial communications services. According to the expanded plan for 2026, the main constellation will comprise 348 satellites, including 330 in low and 18 in medium orbits. Initial launches are scheduled for 2029. IRIS² is therefore a long-term sovereignty project, but not an immediate solution to current bottlenecks in Ukraine.

Economically, the program is nevertheless significant. It creates reliable demand for European satellite manufacturers, operators, launch providers, cryptography specialists, and ground station companies. Such large-scale programs can generate economies of scale, set standards, and stimulate private investment. At the same time, there is a risk of delays, cost overruns, and complicated jurisdictional issues between EU institutions, member states, and industry partners.

Success will not be measured solely by the number of satellites launched. Crucial factors include competitive terminals, a high-performance ground network, secure software, sufficient capacity, and a clear operational framework. Europe must not only finance hardware in orbit; it must establish a complete service chain, ranging from semiconductor and component supply to user support.

IRIS² should not be interpreted as European isolationism. Sovereignty does not mean banning all foreign technology. It means remaining capable of acting in critical situations and being able to switch or combine providers. A European core system can work together with commercial services from the US and other partner countries. The prerequisites are interoperable standards, clear security levels, and the ability to redirect data flows when necessary.

The state as customer, regulator, and dependent

The relationship between SpaceX and the US government defies the simplistic notion that either the state or the company holds power. In fact, both sides are interdependent. SpaceX benefits from large government contracts, institutional demand, launch permits, frequency allocations, and decades of collaboration with space and security agencies. The government, in turn, uses SpaceX for manned spaceflight, satellite launches, communications, and reconnaissance.

This relationship can be described as strategic co-production. Public funds reduce development risks and create early demand. Private investment, entrepreneurial speed, and mass production reduce costs if successful. The model can be more efficient than purely government-led development. However, it can also lead to a concentration of expertise and production capacity outside of government.

If only one supplier can deliver at short notice, traditional procurement loses some of its disciplining effect. Tenders and contract clauses are of little use if no realistic alternative exists. While the government can then set rules, it risks delays or capability gaps. Conversely, companies cannot arbitrarily ignore government regulations, because defense and intelligence contracts, permits, and political acceptance are essential to their business.

The right answer is not necessarily breakup or nationalization. What is needed are robust control rights, technical auditing expertise, competing supply chains, and contingency plans. The state must be able to understand which functions it is acquiring and what interventions are technically feasible. Contracts should include notification periods, escalation procedures, logging, availability targets, and rules for unilateral changes. For particularly critical capabilities, a state operating option or an independent trustee mechanism may also be advisable.

The invisible value of contractual predictability

In typical telecommunications markets, customers compare prices, data volume, speed, and network coverage. In security-critical satellite communications, another value comes into play: political and operational reliability. A cheap service can become costly for the economy if access or service levels are unexpectedly altered during a crisis.

This risk factor should be considered as a shadow price in procurement decisions. A system with a higher monthly fee can be more economical if it offers guaranteed capacity, verifiable failure procedures, and clear government oversight. Conversely, an extremely high-performance network, despite low unit costs, can be problematic if key decisions depend on a non-transparent interplay between corporate management, government agencies, and secret contracts.

This leads to a different understanding of efficiency. The cheapest connection is not automatically the most cost-effective solution. Redundancy acts like unused duplicate infrastructure during normal operation, but its value becomes apparent in a crisis. Similar to insurance, it incurs ongoing costs, but prevents potentially very large losses. Therefore, governments must finance capacities that are not fully utilized in everyday operations.

For Ukraine and its European partners, this means ordering alternative terminals not just after a political crisis. They must be installed, tested, and used in exercises beforehand. Personnel must be proficient in switching procedures. Data formats and encryption must be compatible. Only then will technical diversity translate into genuine resilience.

Market power through vertical integration

SpaceX controls an unusually large portion of the value chain. The company builds rockets, launches satellites, produces spacecraft, develops terminals, and operates services. This integration reduces transaction costs and accelerates innovation. At the same time, it intensifies competition because new entrants must catch up not just in one market, but on multiple levels simultaneously.

A traditional satellite operator has to purchase launches and may have to wait for available capacity. SpaceX can prioritize launch planning for its own network and closely coordinate technical changes between satellite and rocket development. Larger production volumes reduce manufacturing costs, while real-world operational data improves the next generation. This learning cycle further increases its competitive advantage.

From a competition policy perspective, this does not create a typical monopoly issue. Starlink continues to compete regionally with fiber optics, mobile communications, and other satellite services. However, its position is exceptionally strong in certain sub-markets, particularly in high-speed, global, and mobile broadband communication. For LEO communication used for military purposes, security clearances, export controls, and governmental ties present additional barriers to entry.

Europe and other partners should therefore not try to copy every SpaceX component in isolation. A more promising approach is an industrial policy that specifically addresses bottlenecks: more affordable user terminals, secure network software, European launch capacity, standardized interfaces, and distributed ground stations. Cooperation between multiple operators can lead to reliable capacity more quickly than building a single, fully integrated alternative model.

Geopolitics becomes a product feature

For global digital services, geopolitics has long been considered an external risk. In the case of Starlink and Starshield, it is part of the product itself. Availability depends on national permits, sanctions regulations, export controls, military clearances, and foreign policy relationships. A terminal can function technically and yet be politically blocked.

For corporate clients and governments, this changes investment calculations. Those building a critical application on satellite communications must model not only technical failures but also political scenarios. These include a change of government in the provider country, conflicts between partner states, sanctions, contractual disputes, and new regulations for dual-use technologies.

The recent controversy surrounding the responsibility of President Donald Trump, the US military, and SpaceX illustrates this trend. Musk's position shifts the responsibility for potential Starshield restrictions to the government and ultimately to the president. However, other reports indicate that not every specific restriction necessarily stems from an explicit political decision at the highest level. As long as technical protocols, contractual provisions, and chains of command remain confidential, the precise attribution of responsibility remains partially unclear.

Economically, what matters less is which actor presents the most convincing case in the public debate. What is crucial is that users are confronted with an unclear responsibility structure. Uncertainty increases risk premiums, complicates planning, and accelerates the search for alternatives. Thus, a short-term restriction can trigger long-term investments in competing systems.

The limits of private foreign policy

Private companies make decisions with political consequences every day. However, in the case of a global satellite platform, these consequences can reach the scope of traditional foreign policy. A geographic release, a new usage policy, or the blocking of certain devices can influence military balances. This raises the question of whether a board of directors should be making such decisions alone.

Complete political control of every commercial network would also be problematic. It could stifle innovation, turn companies into tools of changing governments, and deter international customers. A clear distinction is more sensible: Ordinary commercial services remain privately run, while militarily critical functions are transferred to more transparent government accountability structures.

Starshield can be a tool for this separation, provided that contracts and chains of command are unambiguous. Simply labeling it a governmental system is insufficient. It must be clearly defined who orders changes, who implements them technically, how decisions are documented, and what rights allied users possess. Without such rules, the problem merely shifts from a transparent private decision to a complex, opaque hybrid structure.

Democratic oversight remains particularly difficult when essential information is classified. Secrecy is sometimes necessary for military systems, but it must not preclude all accountability. Parliaments and audit offices need access to contract and performance data. Independent technical bodies should be able to verify whether agreed-upon functions and control mechanisms actually exist.

Europe's economic policy lessons

The first lesson is that digital sovereignty must not be confused with national autarky. Europe needs its own minimum capabilities, but at the same time must be able to use international networks. The crucial factor is choice. A market with multiple compatible providers creates better prices, greater resilience, and more political flexibility.

The second lesson concerns industrial speed. Strategic programs should not solely aim for perfect end solutions in the next decade. Intermediate steps are needed: additional OneWeb capacity, joint procurement of terminals, European Govsatcom services, mobile ground stations, and standardized multi-network devices. These measures are less visible than a new large-scale constellation, but can have an impact sooner.

The third lesson is financial in nature. Resilience costs money, but dependence also incurs costs. The assessment should consider not only acquisition and operating expenses, but also potential damage from failures, political blackmail, and delayed responses. A portion of defense and infrastructure budgets should be explicitly reserved for communications redundancy.

The fourth lesson concerns the single market. Europe can only achieve economies of scale if member states pool their requirements. Small, nationally specific solutions drive up prices and hinder mass production. Common safety standards and predictable purchase volumes would help European manufacturers develop more affordable terminals and scalable services.

A realistic way out of the single-provider trap

In the short term, Starlink remains difficult to replace for Ukraine and many other users. An abrupt shutdown would be economically costly and operationally risky. The sensible strategy, therefore, is not a symbolic separation, but rather controlled diversification.

First, critical applications must be identified. At least two technically distinct connections should be available for command centers, air defense, energy supply, government networks, and emergency communications. Then, alternative terminals and capacities must actually be procured. A mere framework agreement without installed hardware offers little protection in a crisis.

The next step should be to establish software-supported multi-network management. Data traffic can be routed via Starlink, OneWeb, geostationary satellites, or terrestrial networks depending on priority, security level, price, and availability. This reduces the reliance on manual switching. At the same time, particularly sensitive data must be end-to-end encrypted, regardless of the transmission path used.

Ultimately, users need clear political agreements with provider and partner states. These include consultation obligations before significant restrictions, defined exceptions for immediate defense, and escalation channels for technical malfunctions. Treaties cannot prevent geopolitical conflicts, but they can reduce surprises and clarify responsibilities.

The real difference lies in the power to decide

Starlink and Starshield differ not merely in their civilian or military labels. Starlink is a commercial platform with a global mass market, standardized connectors, and a private-sector operating logic. Starshield is a government-oriented security offering that can include special encryption, missions, payloads, and control rights. Both draw on the same industrial edge from SpaceX, but their economic incentives and institutional responsibilities are different.

The controversy surrounding restrictions in Ukraine reveals that technical capability is incomplete without reliable governance. A network can be fast, robust, and cost-effective, yet still pose a strategic risk if users don't know who controls the system at a critical moment. Conversely, formal government control is of little use if the state is entirely dependent on a single company for technical matters.

Musk's reference to the responsibility of the US government and the president therefore only partially exonerates SpaceX. Even if specific Starshield limits are mandated by the government, SpaceX remains the central industrial and technical enabler. At the same time, it would be too simplistic to portray every restriction as Musk's personal decision. In practice, power arises from the interplay of contracts, software, military orders, and political leadership.

For Europe and Ukraine, this leads to a clear perspective: The dependence on Starlink should neither be denied nor addressed through a hasty decoupling. In the short term, Starlink remains an exceptionally powerful and economically irreplaceable system. In the long term, however, a single-provider structure is not sustainable. The strategic value of future communication networks will therefore not lie solely in higher bandwidth. It will be measured by whether states remain capable of acting even under political pressure.

I would be happy to serve as your personal advisor.

Head of Business Development

Chairman SME Connect Defense Working Group

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I would be happy to serve as your personal advisor.

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