The launch of Waterworth, Meta’s sprawling 50,000-kilometre submarine cable system, longer than the Earth’s circumference, arrives cloaked in the language of progress. The use of 24 fibre pairs, far exceeding the 8 to 16 pairs found in most new systems, dramatically increases data capacity, which is vital for AI-driven applications and cloud services. The cables’ placement using advanced burial techniques at depths of up to 7,000 metres not only protects them from physical threats including ship anchors and fishing gear but also avoids high-risk geopolitical regions.
Waterworth promises to tether continents, accelerate data flows, and fortify the digital subsea veins that power economies.
Yet a disquieting question remains unanswered: Should corporations with multi-billionaire CEOs and vast financial and infrastructural power, like Meta, be entrusted with solely owning and controlling large-scale connectivity infrastructure?
With Google managing approximately 33 undersea cable routes – some exclusively owned – and Meta advancing its ambitious US$10 billion Waterworth project, the governance of global connectivity is undergoing a profound transformation, the consequences of which remain uncertain. Are these projects set to make existing subsea systems more resilient, or are we witnessing the silent entrenchment of a digital oligarchy in global connectivity systems?
This trend is starkly illustrated by recent events involving high-profile tech figures. Consider Elon Musk, for instance. Once a vocal advocate for unrestricted internet access in conflict zones – supporting Ukraine’s use of satellite internet – allegations that Musk threatens to shut down internet service during the Ukraine-Russia conflict signals a dramatic reversal. This pivot from support to leverage underscores a critical point: if control over digital connectivity becomes concentrated, a single decision by a tech mogul can disrupt digital connectivity for entire regions. Such unilateral power raises urgent questions about the role of Big Tech or hyperscalers in governing a resource as vital as the global internet infrastructure.
Traditionally, developing undersea cables was a cooperative endeavour. Telecom companies, national governments, and multinational consortia pooled their resources and expertise to build networks that served both public and economic interests. That landscape has shifted dramatically.
The future of global connectivity and, indeed, the global balance of power in the digital age depends on our ability to rein in unchecked corporate influence.
Hyperscalers started investing in subsea systems more than two decades ago. These deep-pocketed actors have now evolved from being mere participants in joint ventures to dominating the market and setting the terms of access for smaller players.
At a recent subsea cable conference in London, a leading communications and technology lawyer, Mike Conradi, observed how industry dynamics were being reshaped due to the rise of these commercial giants. He noted that the negotiating power of smaller companies is now directly tied to the share price of the hyperscaler with whom they are dealing, and the explosive growth of artificial intelligence (AI) has only amplified this dynamic. Hyperscalers are thriving because of a surge in AI-driven demand and products, and as a result, they impose what Conradi describes as “take it or leave it” conditions on those less dominant when they can. Moreover, their colossal, high-capacity cables can rapidly capture a significant share of a region’s data traffic once activated. This efficiency may swiftly render older, smaller cables along the same route obsolete, further consolidating the market dominance of these tech giants and advancing the disruption of the wholesale telecommunications market.
Pertinently, the stakes extend beyond the realm of corporate competition. This concentration of infrastructural power within a handful of entities can pose a challenge to the very notion of a state’s digital sovereignty. It also presents the risk of the traditional balance of power between state and market being dangerously skewed. Imagine a scenario where a nation’s sovereign interests clash with Silicon Valley’s tech titans who whisper in the ears of power. Could a hyperscaler, with its grip on the world’s digital lifelines, strangle dissent by severing access, redirect data flows to flatter its allies, or quietly redraw the borders of influence – practicing a sleek, shadowy form of statecraft, no longer bound by flags but by fibre optics? The potential for such infrastructural geopolitics and coercion is no longer an abstract concern but a looming reality.
The increasing dominance, if not monopoly, of hyperscalers in the global subsea industry calls for a robust re-examination of global digital governance. Existing international frameworks – such as those administered by the International Telecommunications Union (ITU) or under the aegis of the United Nations – were never designed to regulate hyperscaler control over critical infrastructure. Yet, as Big Tech consolidates its hold on undersea cables, there is an urgent need to revisit these frameworks.
Or perhaps we require a new kind of international agreement – a Global Digital Infrastructure Treaty of some sort – that establishes clear norms and oversight mechanisms for hyperscalers that seek to control the entire data ecosystem from subsea cables to cloud servers to connectivity. Policymakers, industry professionals, international organisations, and civil society must come together to discuss what regulations to adopt to protect digital sovereignty while fostering innovation. The future of global connectivity and, indeed, the global balance of power in the digital age depends on our ability to rein in unchecked corporate influence. The question we must ask ourselves is how much power we are willing to surrender to a few multi-billionaires, especially those tethered to an increasingly unpredictable US administration.
