-By An Investigative Journalist
(Lanka-e-News -20.Jan.2025, 11.45 PM) When Rohitha Rajapaksa, the youngest son of former Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa, declared his grand ambition to launch Sri Lanka into the space age, the nation was captivated. Here was a young man who wasn’t just content being part of a powerful political dynasty; he was reaching for the stars—literally. Promoted as a satellite engineer, genius, and even a space scientist with a pocketful of PhDs (from where, no one knows), Rohitha promised to catapult Sri Lanka into the ranks of spacefaring nations.
But like many lofty dreams, this one appears to have crash-landed—somewhere between the stratosphere and Sri Lanka’s depleted national coffers. Years after the much-publicized launch of SupremeSAT-1, the country is left scratching its collective head, asking: Where’s the satellite? Where’s the money? And most importantly, where’s the signal?
SupremeSAT-1 was launched in November 2012 aboard a Chinese Long March 3B/E rocket from the Xichang Satellite Launch Centre in China. This was billed as a historic moment: Sri Lanka’s first-ever communications satellite, a project so ambitious it made Elon Musk look like a hobbyist. Sri Lankans watched in awe as the launch was streamed, with reports boasting that the satellite was built by Thales Alenia Space of France, a world-renowned aerospace manufacturer.
Yet, despite all the fanfare, something went awry. Years later, the government has no clue where the satellite is, what it’s doing, or even if it’s functioning. Leader of the House, Minister Susil Premajayantha, recently admitted in Parliament, “If the satellite was launched in 2012, it should have returned by now.”
Returned? Returned where? To Colombo? Was the satellite supposed to double as a boomerang?
To add insult to orbital injury, Sri Lanka allegedly spent a whopping $320 million on SupremeSAT-1—a price tag higher than India’s entire Chandrayaan-3 mission, which landed on the moon. Yes, you read that correctly. While India was busy putting its flag on the lunar surface for a mere $263 million, Sri Lanka spent more money for a satellite whose existence is as questionable as Rohitha’s supposed PhDs.
Parliamentarian Namal Rajapaksa, Rohitha’s older brother, insists that SupremeSAT was a private sector project with no state funding. “If there is government investment, it should be brought before COPE,” he said, conveniently sidestepping the question of how a "private project" received so much state fanfare, resources, and diplomatic involvement.
Even more amusingly, Namal referred to criticism of the project as “mud-slinging.” If the Opposition is indeed slinging mud, it seems SupremeSAT gave them a lot of dirt to work with.
To date, no one can definitively say what became of SupremeSAT-1. There have been vague murmurs that it’s operational, but without evidence of its functioning, these claims are about as credible as a horoscope predicting Sri Lanka’s GDP will triple next year.
Let’s break it down:
Where is SupremeSAT-1?
Tracking systems that monitor satellites worldwide have yet to detect any activity from SupremeSAT-1. For something supposedly floating in space, it’s curiously silent.
Is it operational?
If SupremeSAT-1 is truly functioning as Sri Lanka’s first communications satellite, why is there no proof of its utility? Sri Lanka still relies on foreign satellite services for broadcasting and telecommunications.
What about the lifespan?
The satellite was said to have a design life of 15 years. We’re now halfway through that timeline, and the only thing SupremeSAT has transmitted is a stream of unanswered questions.
Beyond the satellite itself, the SupremeSAT saga highlights Sri Lanka’s deepening ties with China during the Rajapaksa era. The project was a joint venture with the Chinese government, raising eyebrows in India and elsewhere. Many saw the satellite launch as less about technological progress and more about Sri Lanka cozying up to China in exchange for loans and investments—loans that now weigh heavily on the country’s fragile economy.
Brahma Chellaney, an analyst at India’s Centre for Policy Research, described it best: “It reinforces the impression that Sri Lanka is getting slowly but surely closer to China.”
Indeed, the satellite project was just one piece of a broader puzzle that included massive Chinese infrastructure projects like the Hambantota Port and Mattala Airport, both of which have become financial black holes.
Rohitha Rajapaksa’s image as a space scientist has always been as dubious as SupremeSAT’s trajectory. Self-styled as a satellite engineer and genius, he’s been credited with multiple PhDs, although no one seems to know where they came from. Perhaps they were self-awarded?
And while Sri Lanka’s academic community struggles with underfunded universities, Rohitha’s meteoric rise as a “scientist” serves as a cruel reminder that connections sometimes matter more than competence.
The SupremeSAT debacle has become a regular topic in Parliament, where Opposition Leader Sajith Premadasa frequently raises questions about the project’s funding and fate. Comparing it to India’s Chandrayaan-3 mission, Premadasa pointed out the absurdity of spending more money for less—or, in this case, for nothing.
Minister Susil Premajayantha’s vague responses have done little to calm suspicions. His claim that the satellite “should have returned by now” was met with laughter, disbelief, and a flurry of memes on Sri Lankan social media.
Perhaps the biggest mystery is not the satellite but the $320 million allegedly spent on it. Where did it all go? Rumours funds end up in Dubai offshores, but other possible reasons too...
1. Launch Costs: While SupremeSAT-1 was launched from China, experts argue that the reported cost far exceeds the market rate for such missions. Was the figure inflated?
2. Manufacturing Costs: If the satellite was indeed built by Thales Alenia Space, where are the receipts? Did the French company ever deliver the promised technology, or did the project turn into a glorified PR stunt?
3. Administrative Expenses: How much of the budget was swallowed by "miscellaneous" expenses? Given Sri Lanka’s history of kickbacks, it’s not hard to imagine where some of that money ended up.
The story of SupremeSAT-1 is a cautionary tale for Sri Lanka—a reminder of what happens when public resources are mismanaged, transparency is ignored, and vanity projects take precedence over genuine development.
Instead of chasing dreams of satellites and rockets, Sri Lanka could have invested in practical projects that directly benefit its people. While India celebrates its lunar success, Sri Lankans are left with nothing but unanswered questions and a metaphorical hole in their pockets.
Rohitha Rajapaksa’s satellite dream promised to launch Sri Lanka into a new era of technological achievement. Instead, it has become a national joke, a symbol of squandered resources, and a glaring example of what happens when politics and ambition collide in the worst possible way.
As for the satellite itself, perhaps it’s out there somewhere, drifting aimlessly in the void—much like the billions of dollars Sri Lanka spent to put it there. Until then, all we have is silence. And maybe, just maybe, that silence is the loudest signal of all.
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by (2025-01-20 21:44:26)
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