So Many Satellites, So Little Access. Why Business-as-Usual Is Failing Communities in Crisis.

Imagine a world where a humanitarian satellite is fully operational - where every responder, researcher, and community advocate can access sub-meter, near-real-time imagery as easily as checking the weather. In this world, communities in conflict are no longer invisible; open, high-resolution imagery makes it possible to monitor ceasefire lines, document violations, and strengthen civilian protection with trusted, verifiable evidence. Cities under stress from disasters or displacement are mapped in real time, enabling urban resilience planning that saves lives and preserves dignity. Data is shared openly, giving humanitarians, journalists, and civil society the tools they need for transparency and accountability, ensuring truth cannot be buried and abuses cannot be hidden. At the same time, this imagery fuels a wave of AI/ML innovation grounded in equity closing training data gaps, enabling partners to validate and improve models, and sparking new applications tailored to local needs. What emerges is not just faster response, but a transformative shift: a global data commons that empowers communities to anticipate risks, demand accountability, and build a more resilient and just future.

Our community outreach has made one thing abundantly clear: humanitarian user communities are overwhelmingly supportive of this vision. From UN agencies to grassroots NGOs, from academics to human rights advocates, there is broad consensus that a dedicated satellite for peace and protection is not only desirable, but long overdue. At the same time, we recognize the resistance from defenders of the status quo. They argue that enough data is already available, that “capacity” doesn’t exist to even use existing assets, and the economics don’t make sense. They continue to support broken commercial and governmental models over meeting urgent humanitarian needs. This tension underscores why a community-driven effort is so essential: while incumbents may cling to current systems, the people working on the frontlines of crises know that the status quo is not good enough. Their support signals both the moral and practical mandate to push forward with a mission designed for humanity, not markets or militaries.

The critiques are familiar, and in some ways fair. But they reflect a dangerous complacency: the belief that if only humanitarians were better customers, or if only more data scientists were hired, the existing system could meet humanitarian needs. History tells us otherwise. The status quo of piecemeal access to commercial data, ad hoc donations, and the inevitable fragmented capacity has failed to deliver timely, trusted Earth observation for communities in crisis.

Let’s break down those critiques…

1. “Humanitarians don’t have the capacity to use the data already available.”

This critique misunderstands how capacity is built. Humanitarians cannot become world-class users of satellite data if access is unreliable, restricted, or only available under short-term donations. A dedicated satellite, by contrast, would guarantee predictable, high-quality data streams designed for humanitarian needs. A dedicated humanitarian satellite is not about ignoring the gaps in capacity. It’s about fixing them at the root, by ensuring open, reliable access to data and building an ecosystem of shared capacity that no single organization could achieve alone.

That predictability is the foundation for capacity: it allows training curricula, operational workflows, and analytic tools to be standardized and scaled across organizations. Right now, every NGO reinvents the wheel each time it negotiates access to a different commercial provider. That fragmentation wastes scarce capacity instead of growing it.

A humanitarian satellite flips this model: shared data, shared infrastructure, shared learning. Instead of building silos of expertise within a handful of organizations, we activate an ecosystem where universities, startups, and grassroots groups can all innovate on top of the same open data. That is how you close the capacity gap, not by expecting every NGO to solve it alone.

The precedent is clear: when Landsat data was made openly available in 2008, it transformed adoption across the U.S. government, academia, and commercial sectors. What had once been niche and costly became a foundation for agriculture monitoring, urban planning, water management, insurance, and climate research. The USGS didn’t just release imagery; they catalyzed an ecosystem. The humanitarian sector deserves the same chance.

2. “The issue isn’t stinginess [from satellite data providers], it’s lack of structured agreements.”

True and telling. Despite a decade of initiatives, no structured agreements have emerged that truly meet humanitarian needs. Commercial providers will always prioritize paying customers; governments will always prioritize national security. Expecting either to treat humanitarians as equal partners is wishful thinking.

A dedicated satellite makes those “structured agreements” unnecessary. Instead of relying on philanthropy or goodwill, we create a governance model rooted in humanitarian principles: transparency, impartiality, independence. This means tasking priorities are driven by need, not profit or politics. In other words, the satellite itself becomes the agreement: a standing commitment that crises and communities will come first.

3. “Cheaper to be a customer than an operator.”

This assumes the humanitarian sector could ever be a normal customer. In practice, humanitarians are fragmented, underfunded, and constantly negotiating from a position of weakness. Even when budgets exist, pricing structures are opaque, license restrictions are prohibitive, and tasking is delayed.

Yes, EO capacity is exploding, but access remains constrained. Gaza has been imaged over 1,000 times this year by commercial satellites. How much of that data reached responders on the ground? Almost none. Abundance in orbit does not equal access on Earth.

A dedicated satellite is not about competing with commercial providers. It’s about guaranteeing baseline access where markets will never deliver. And it doesn’t preclude also being a customer: humanitarians will still buy complementary data as needed. But without their own asset, they will always be at the mercy of others’ priorities.

4. “Humanitarians should rethink data as an asset class and invest in becoming the best users.”

Absolutely. And that’s exactly why a humanitarian satellite is needed. Becoming the best users requires consistent, open access to data designed for humanitarian contexts. You cannot build a world-class fire department if your water supply is controlled by private companies who may or may not turn on the tap when the alarm rings.

A humanitarian satellite provides that baseline supply. With reliable, open data, the sector can finally move past scarcity mindsets, stop chasing pilot donations, and start investing in the analytics, AI, and training that make data valuable. In fact, the satellite is the catalyst for the very transformation critics say we need: from reactive, donor-dependent users to confident, strategic investors in geospatial intelligence.

The Bigger Picture

The current model is broken because it assumes humanitarian needs can be met as a side project of defense and commercial systems. Decades of experience prove otherwise. Humanitarians need more than scraps of goodwill; they need guaranteed access, equity in tasking, and governance structures rooted in their principles. An independent satellite addresses the structural imbalance: shifting the sector from dependency to agency, from scarcity to sufficiency, and from fragmented pilots to systemic adoption.

The satellite is not the end state - it is the enabler. By anchoring open data streams in governance rooted in humanitarian principles, it activates an ecosystem of shared capacity, stimulates complementary investment in analytics and AI, and rebalances the EO landscape toward equity and trust. It creates a shared foundation where data isn’t a privilege but a public good, where capacity can grow collectively instead of being hoarded by a few, and where the humanitarian sector can finally step into the 21st century as a confident, capable user of space-based intelligence.

Business as usual is not working. It’s time to build something new.