The infrastructure that lets the world see conflicts unfolding has itself become a weapon. As war reshapes the Middle East and Ukraine, the satellite systems humanity relies on for clear-eyed reporting are being delayed, spoofed, and privately controlled in ways that raise urgent questions about transparency, commerce and national security.
The pressure points are now visible across two fronts. Commercial satellite provider Planet Labs announced in March it would delay the release of all new imagery of Iran, the Persian Gulf, U.S.-allied bases and existing conflict zones for two weeks, extending an earlier four-day delay over concerns that the intelligence could be used to target NATO members. The other major satellite firm, Vantor (formerly Maxar), maintains controls on imagery from the Middle East, limiting who can request new images or purchase historical ones over areas where allied and partner forces are operating or being targeted by adversaries.
These are not governmental classifications. They are decisions made by private companies, responding to what they describe as responsible practices but what critics call information control. While Planet said the decision was made independently after consultations with intelligence and military experts, the Trump administration has privately pressured satellite firms to limit sensitive imagery, with some analysts suspecting the move aims to prevent images revealing U.S. and allied losses. With real satellite images delayed or restricted, analysts warned that AI-generated images and misinformation could fill the gap, while scrutiny of U.S. and Israeli strikes may also become harder.
The second dimension of satellite warfare is more crude: jamming and spoofing of GPS signals. Since the U.S. and Israel launched attacks on Iran in late February, conflict has triggered a wave of electronic interference that makes navigation itself unreliable. Electronic interference disrupted the navigation systems of more than 1,100 commercial ships in UAE, Qatari, Omani and Iranian waters on February 28, and jamming and spoofing have slowed marine traffic through the Strait of Hormuz, a shipping lane that handles roughly 20 per cent of the world's oil and gas exports.
An estimated 40,000 seafarers are stuck on board ships on either side of the strait, which has been almost entirely shut since bombing began in late February, with half effectively trapped in the Gulf. A Bloomberg analysis found 340 ships in the area, but only 56 are broadcasting their locations, just 16 per cent of all vessels. Mariners now often have to use traditional navigation techniques, positioning themselves with maps and visual confirmation of landmarks and other vessels.
The economic cascade is significant. Around a quarter of global seaborne oil trade passes through the strait, and Iran's disruption to shipping has sent shockwaves through the global economy; energy prices have spiked, Asia and Africa face fuel shortages, and fertiliser costs have jumped, threatening food security.
For Australia, the implications cut deep. As an energy importer with substantial trade through Asian waters, disruptions to global maritime navigation directly affect domestic prosperity. Yet the country has limited visibility over how these systems are being weaponised or controlled. The control of satellite data now rests with private American firms making judgements about what can be seen and when, while GPS infrastructure is being systematically jammed in ways that affect civilian shipping.
Ukraine offers an earlier test case. Experts have noted that signals civilians rely on from space have long been vulnerable to jamming and spoofing, but the current conflict represents the most serious problem to date; it has become a normal part of conflicts because GPS-guided drones are being used far more widely than they were decades ago. The jamming is not a new tactic; interference has been a major issue for shipping and aircraft since Russia's invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and it is now endemic in certain regions near conflict such as the Baltic Sea, Black Sea and parts of the Middle East, where grey-zone military activity is commonplace.
The challenge is that solutions are not quick fixes. Upgrading receivers with anti-spoofing features and encryption, or installing antennas designed to protect against jamming, takes time and money, while alternative navigational tools that don't rely on GPS remain a long way off operational use.
There are legitimate reasons for satellite firms to restrict imagery. Planet said the decision aimed to balance transparency with the need to prevent imagery from being used to plan attacks on allied and NATO forces or civilians. Military forces have always controlled information about their movements and capabilities. But the privatisation of this control introduces a new layer of complexity. When the decision to withhold imagery is made by a commercial firm rather than elected governments, accountability becomes murky.
The question that emerges is not whether conflicts will continue to target these systems, but who gets to decide what the world sees and how. If commercial firms can unilaterally delay information on grounds of security, what prevents them from doing so for other reasons? If military forces worldwide are now jamming civilian navigation systems as a matter of routine, who bears the cost when ships collide, planes lose position, or commerce grinds to a halt?
Australia has stakes in both questions. As a regional power with interests in maritime freedom of navigation and supply chain security, it needs reliable satellite imagery and functioning GPS systems. Yet neither is now guaranteed. The technological dominance that once came from controlling satellites has shifted to something more fragmented: whoever can disrupt them fastest wins.