Don’t fly me to the Moon again, Mr. Rocketman

From star-gazing would-be astronauts to navel-gazing social anthropologists, we’ve had a surfeit of rising stars and setting suns – er, sons – who’ve promised more than they’ve ever delivered. And they continue to take the public, the polity and the parliaments of which some of them are a part for a long ride round the galactic block to the edge of outer darkness

This week was something special, celestially speaking. First there was the spectacular Perseid shower in the bewitching midnight watch and some hours after. Then there was a scintillating conjunction of Jupiter and Venus in the early morning midweek days that followed. And now there is the ongoing spectacle of political shooting stars of the past and present disporting themselves as if they’d never heard of the principle of entropy. That all things must run down.

In every respect, it is a show-stopper for a citizenry starving for bread and circuses under the more austere regime than most we are blessed with at present. 

Of course, the Perseids may have dazzled people all over the planet, as promised in the hype on social media. But here in Sri Lanka the meteorological outlook was predictably gloomy. Prospect: meteor showers. Reality: thunder showers. It was ever thus. Rain a spoiler something rotten. And this time, it’s not cricket.

Timelines past and present

Back up a bit. For those of you who came in late... a JVP Leader of the House – responding to a ‘question’ (pronounce it how you like) raised by those pesky SLPP types (who don’t know when to call it quits) – tells parliament that a satellite launched into space on Sri Lanka’s behalf by China’s Xichang Space Centre at a cost of US$ 300 million in 2012 no longer exists. Then the Premier ‘clarifies’ (interpret it how you like) the issue by claiming that not only does the spacefarer owned by Board of Investment company Supreme SAT Ltd. exist, but it also brought in annual revenues to the tune of Rs. 20 billion a year on average between 2015 and the first half of 2023. 

It is well past high time that we the people, disappointed spectators of celestial sky shows  and dismayed onlookers at political freak shows, call a halt to this ‘Oh what a circus!’ routine

This prime ministerial contradiction – including the fact that it was Supreme SAT and not the Government of Sri Lanka (as the JVP et al. claimed then) that had invested some 12 million rupees between 2013 and 2014 – is further ‘clarified’ by another NPP stalwart now. That minister claims, rather than the PM cough up to her error, that the information provided by the BOI to be made public through parliament is, in fact, not factual. And that a full-scale investigation into the fiasco would be launched to address the ‘questionable’ goings-on all round.   

Oh what a circus, oh what a show

From the taxpayers’ point of view, this is “panem et circenses” (don’t try to pronounce that). It is a show that has been going on since time out of mind, from the Romans to the Rajapaksas. And as much as the scintillating conjunction of Jupiter and Venus was clouded over by leaden skies favouring our blessed isle, along came two other planets to cast a pall over our present star-gazing prospects.

On the one hand there was the scion of a ‘royal family’ of the past, swimming once again into our ken with a story we all thought had been buried under a pile of moon-dust. On the other there was the plebeian ‘professorial type’ of senior minister we are fortunate to have presiding over matters lunar-oriented, really, and adding her own pixillated sprinkling of fairy dust to the sordid tale.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a young man with the stars in his eyes launched a satellite into space on behalf of his serendipitously lost and found island nation. That he did so allegedly with our struggling taxpayers’ bitterly-parted-with money is neither here nor there. And over the course of time, and in short order to boot, so was the satellite – it was lost and found to be neither here nor there.

To cut a long story short, it was a tale with a twist, like Halley’s Comet. But unlike that ghostly yet grand visitor from the depths of the far-flung provinces of our Solar System, “ChiChi’s rocket” – as the lost item was known – swung back into orbit in a shorter time than anyone had to say, “Here she comes!” backward in Mandarin Chinese.

First, the satellite – or was it a rocket? – was launched into space for Sri Lanka and the Kingly-Clan regime by the Chinese [who, having conquered large swathes of the third planet through their ubiquitous Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) strategy, then set their sights on its only natural satellite: the Moon]. Then it went missing: the artificial satellite, that is, not that lunar orb! And stayed lost in the Oort Cloud or a space-side One Belt, One Road (OBOR) for twelve long years – a short span of time by cosmic standards, to be sure. 

It was found again by the Board of Investment (BOI). And lost again by the boys in red! In the brief moments between BOI records being broached open for public consumption and the lady doctor (not of the medical ilk but the merely anthropological) showing us how to do that “open wide and say aaaah” – and then putting her foot in the mouth – routine. Aargh.

I don’t know about you, dears, gentle readers and other lunatics, but I’ve had just about enough of the no show. From star-gazing would-be astronauts to navel-gazing social anthropologists, we’ve had a surfeit of rising stars and setting suns – er, sons – who’ve promised more than they’ve ever delivered. And they continue to take the public, the polity and the parliaments of which some of them are a part for a long ride round the galactic block to the edge of outer darkness. 

There is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth at more than 10/10ths cloud cover obstructing the view of the annual, heavenly sky fiesta. 

We languish in a limbo of political has-beens elbowing their way back into the spendthrift fifteen minutes of fame which they squandered while in power and aspirational would-be do-gooders who don’t know their ‘aahs!’ from their L-boards.

The bottom line

I say it is well past high time that we the people, disappointed spectators of celestial sky shows and dismayed onlookers at political freak shows, call a halt to this ‘Oh what a circus!’ routine with which we’ve put up for longer – it seems – than the Perseids keep coming back.

In the past we’ve put up with a spectrum of lunatic piffle – from the damp squib of Yahapaalanaya despite its initial fizz and sparkle, to the blood moon stained propaganda of Zero Civilian Casualties, and let’s not even mention Capitalism with a Human Face or Vistas of Prosperity and Splendour.

Now we’re still swimming in a sea of gamesmanship, one-upmanship, petty politicking, bureaucratic bungling, disinformation campaigns befuddling the polity, and politicos of all hues and shades protecting their own hide at the expense of – the truth be told – the public and national interests. 

When will we get to be like that astronomer who feels like “some watcher of the skies, when a new planet swims into his ken” – and it’s not a satellite, shooting star or sad, sorry, sordid excuse for star-struck elected representatives with their eyes of the main chance to shaft political rivals (including, perhaps, contending colleagues in a coalition where the cracks are showing?)? 

Well, not until we get tough with the new kids on the political block, newbies though they may be being answerable to the public or tyros at governance. Also, not until we push the present powers that be to put away the tyrants of the past and their progeny who swindled nation, state, country, people and generations to come of their due share of national wealth. Plus, put them away where the Sun – and Moon – don’t shine.  

            

(Editor-at-large of LMD | To the edge – and back)