The State Department Helped Elon Musk Make Over $1,000,000,000,000 by Forcing Nations to Use Starlink

In a growing scandal that is beginning to blur the lines between diplomacy and corporate favoritism, the U.S. State Department is being accused of using its global influence to aggressively secure business deals for Elon Musk’s satellite internet company, Starlink. According to a detailed investigation published by ProPublica, American diplomats have exerted mounting pressure on foreign governments—most notably in Africa—to fast-track licenses for the expansion of Starlink, a division of Musk’s privately held aerospace juggernaut, SpaceX.

Behind this diplomatic muscle-flexing is a troubling implication: that the full machinery of U.S. foreign policy is being redirected to serve one man’s trillion-dollar ambitions.

The report shines an uncomfortable spotlight on the Republic of Gambia, a small West African nation that found itself in the crosshairs of U.S. geopolitical maneuvers. In February, U.S. Ambassador Sharon Cromer met with Lamin Jabbi, Gambia’s minister of communications and digital economy, urging him to grant immediate approval for Starlink to operate in the country.

According to Hassan Jallow, Jabbi’s top deputy, Cromer’s request was laced with veiled threats. She pointedly reminded Jabbi of the extensive financial assistance the U.S. provides to Gambia, leaving little doubt that the continuation of such support could be contingent upon favorable treatment of the American tech firm.

By mid-March, tensions had escalated. Jabbi and Jallow traveled to Washington to attend the World Bank summit. However, what should have been a diplomatic opportunity quickly turned into a corporate inquisition. At a meeting orchestrated by the State Department, the Gambian officials were confronted by Ben MacWilliams—a former U.S. diplomat turned Starlink executive—who accused them of stalling national development by refusing to greenlight Musk’s internet satellites.

When Jabbi held his ground, he was abruptly uninvited from subsequent meetings with U.S. officials, effectively being punished for not capitulating.

What followed was an astonishing breach of diplomatic protocol. Ambassador Cromer bypassed Jabbi entirely and contacted Gambian President Adama Barrow directly. Her message: ignore your communications minister and fast-track Starlink’s approval. The boldness of this move exposed just how far the U.S. government was willing to go to benefit one company. And one man.

Critics argue that such brazen interference sets a dangerous precedent. While the U.S. government has long promoted American businesses abroad, this level of intervention—combined with the direct benefit it yields for Elon Musk—is seen by many as a line crossed.

With Musk currently holding a $150 billion stake in SpaceX, every new Starlink approval directly boosts his wealth. Already operating in 15 African countries, the acceleration of Starlink’s footprint across the continent could potentially add hundreds of billions in valuation—pushing Musk’s personal fortune toward unprecedented trillion-dollar heights.

What’s more alarming is the backdrop against which this power play is unfolding. Under President Donald Trump’s administration, Elon Musk has become increasingly entrenched within the federal government’s inner circle. Once a more neutral tech magnate under Biden, Musk’s alignment with Trump has turned him into a power broker with unique access to policy levers that most corporate executives could only dream of.

During a joint appearance with Trump in Saudi Arabia earlier this week, Musk announced that the Kingdom had also approved Starlink’s entry—news that conveniently coincided with a private meeting between Trump, Musk, and the Saudi communications minister. Observers noted that every one of Musk’s major businesses—from Tesla to Neuralink—was name-dropped during the high-level exchange, a sign of what some are calling a full-court promotional blitz masquerading as diplomacy.

The State Department responded to the controversy with a patriotic veneer, saying: “Starlink is an America-made product that has been a game changer in helping remote areas around the world gain internet connectivity. Any patriotic American should want to see an American company’s success on the global stage, especially over compromised Chinese competitors.”

Yet behind this language lies a more complicated truth: this is not merely about beating China—it’s about enriching Elon Musk, and possibly doing so with taxpayer-funded leverage.

The timing is also raising eyebrows. Just as news of these diplomatic pushes surfaced, reports began to circulate that the Trump administration was planning to shutter embassies in several African nations, including Gambia. Critics claim this move could serve as a pressure tactic: comply with Starlink, or lose access to American aid and diplomatic channels.

That Starlink’s approval coincided with renewed threats of diplomatic disengagement suggests a deeply coercive strategy aimed at cornering smaller nations into economic dependency.

This isn’t the first time Musk has benefited from federal generosity. Democratic lawmakers have repeatedly accused the Trump-era Department of Commerce of aiding Musk’s financial interests through suspect means—most notably, by promoting the purchase of Tesla stock as a patriotic investment. Such maneuvers, if proven, point to a dangerous merger of public power and private wealth—a dynamic that distorts free markets and undermines international sovereignty.

Beyond Africa, similar concerns are growing in Latin America and Southeast Asia, where State Department officials have been pushing internet access as a human rights issue while quietly lobbying for Starlink’s entry. Humanitarian rhetoric is increasingly being viewed as a smokescreen for market capture.

In regions where Chinese telecommunications companies like Huawei previously dominated, the State Department’s sudden enthusiasm for American alternatives appears less about digital freedom and more about corporate conquest.

For smaller nations, the choice is a cruel one: accept U.S. corporate dominance or risk losing critical development aid and diplomatic support. In Gambia’s case, Jabbi’s resistance came at a high price. His sidelining by U.S. officials and the direct outreach to his president show how traditional governance structures are being bypassed in favor of backroom deals.

And for the citizens of these nations, what is marketed as “connectivity” may end up being something else entirely—a digital tether to a billionaire’s growing empire.

As the dust settles, a larger question looms over Washington: has American foreign policy become an extension of Elon Musk’s business strategy? If so, it marks a profound shift in the role of government—not as a regulator or neutral actor, but as a vehicle for private profiteering.

With more countries expected to fall into line, Starlink’s domination of the global satellite internet market may soon be complete, and Musk’s path to becoming the world’s first trillionaire nearly assured.

The scandal raises deep ethical questions about the misuse of diplomatic power. Is the promotion of American products abroad a legitimate goal when it benefits the nation? Or does it become corruption when the benefit accrues almost entirely to one man?

The coming weeks may bring congressional hearings or further investigative reports, but for now, one thing is clear: Elon Musk is no longer just launching satellites—he’s launching a global political realignment with himself at the center.