Yesterday, the 28^th May 2025 saw a meeting between Prime Minister Al-Sudani and a delegation from SpaceX, a rare moment of exploration of foreign investment in Iraq’s convoluted digital transformation ambitions.

SpaceX, with its Starlink satellite service, has offered to extend its global constellation to Iraqi skies, promising to upgrade communications infrastructure and support Iraq’s economic development with high-speed satellite internet. In theory, the alignment appears beneficial for both parties.

Iraq needs fast, decentralised internet services to bridge urban-rural divides and attract foreign investment. SpaceX, on the other hand, is looking to expand into new, less saturated markets.

But in practice, doing business in Iraq remains a daunting proposition. The Prime Minister’s welcoming rhetoric was clear—"many promising investment opportunities" await, especially amid Iraq’s post-conflict expansion and the state's pivot to private-sector growth.

Yet even the best-framed investment narratives often collide with Iraq’s entrenched structural problems. Corruption remains systemic, affecting every tier of government, from customs and procurement to the judiciary and regulatory agencies.

The World Bank and Transparency International have repeatedly warned that Iraq's institutional weaknesses are not only persistent but worsening in areas critical for foreign investment.

Digital infrastructure, in particular, is subject to multiple overlapping authorities, unclear procurement processes, and rent-seeking by both public officials and politically connected business interests. Foreign companies entering this space often find themselves navigating a bureaucratic maze of people wanting to take a slice at every turn with little guarantee of legal protection or return on investment.

While the Prime Minister directed relevant agencies to “facilitate” SpaceX’s operations, the timeline for regulatory approval, licensing, and installation permits remains unclear and vulnerable to delay.

Iraqis have grown accustomed to state-led service provision, however flawed. The legacy of centralised, publicly owned utilities lingers, especially in areas like telecommunications. There is a scepticism toward foreign firms, seen by some as extractive or opportunistic, particularly when their entry coincides with broader economic privatisation initiatives.

Western companies have been met with caution or outright hostility, fuelled by nationalist narratives and memories of post-2003 reconstruction failures. Whether Starlink can avoid being pulled into these narratives is uncertain.

Thus far, Iraq’s telecoms sector is dominated by a handful of domestic players with deep ties to political parties and militia networks. The arrival of a disruptive technology provider like SpaceX could trigger resistance not only from bureaucratic quarters but from powerful commercial interests. These entities, some with paramilitary backing, are unlikely to welcome a player that threatens existing revenue streams, especially if its service undercuts state-sanctioned monopolies, which is will, for a better service.

Starlink’s potential utility, particularly in remote or underserved areas, is not in doubt. With large areas of western and southern Iraq still lacking reliable connectivity, satellite-based services offer a way to leapfrog infrastructure bottlenecks. They could enable better governance, education, emergency response and even support the decentralised delivery of healthcare. But the government’s ability to integrate such technologies into a digital strategy remains underdeveloped. Iraq still lacks a coherent national broadband plan, data protection laws are patchy, and cybersecurity remains mostly reactive rather than preventive.

This makes the strategic embrace of SpaceX feel more like a political gesture than a well-defined policy shift. Al-Sudani’s emphasis on frameworks and the “strategic relationship with the United States” points to a geopolitical subtext. Amid growing Chinese and Iranian influence in Iraq’s tech and infrastructure sectors, a visible US tech footprint offers symbolic and diplomatic weight. But symbolism will not dismantle bureaucratic time wasting or institutional mistrust.

For SpaceX, the risks are substantial. Iraq has a record of inconsistent policy enforcement and sudden reversals. Even after government approval, projects can stall or collapse under pressure from local power brokers or community resistance. Elon Musk’s ventures are known for bypassing conventional protocols, but the Iraqi context demands deeper political and cultural sensitivity.

Starlink’s success in Iraq will hinge not on technology alone, but on its ability to operate within a fragmented, opaque system where deals are often not what they appear to be.

Can Iraq move beyond rhetorical openness to genuinely integrate foreign tech into its public infrastructure?

Will SpaceX be given a regulatory and operational space free of political manipulation? Or will this project, like so many before it, get lost in the gap between ambition and capacity?

Sadly, as we head towards the elections, Al-Sudani is likely to make many promises he won’t be keeping.