-By LeN Economic Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -17.May.2025, 10.00 PM) In the grand tradition of tropical white elephants, Sri Lanka has just added another oversized, overpriced, and under-delivered marvel to its growing menagerie—the Bandaranaike International Airport (BIA) Expansion Project. Funded by a soft loan from the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA), this project was once touted as the crown jewel of Sri Lanka’s aviation ambitions.
Today, it stands as a semi-constructed embarrassment, a half-built basement buried under allegations, buck-passing, and now, the scrutiny of Parliament’s Committee on Public Enterprises (COPE).
If airports are supposed to give tourists a “first impression” of a country, then BIA’s new terminal appears determined to show up with its shoelaces untied, its zipper down, and a polite but confused smile.
Let’s begin in the basement—literally. According to testimony at the latest COPE hearing, the very foundation of the new terminal building was not constructed according to the approved standards. Somewhere between design blueprints, contractor interpretations, and local engineering improvisation, the basement has become a botched job so severe that a full-scale redo is now on the table.
A redo. Of a basement. In a public infrastructure project funded by foreign debt. In 2025.
Taxpayers, of course, will foot the bill—not just for the redo, but for the original construction and the compounding costs of delay. One might call it a renovation, but it smells more like reconstruction of incompetence.
While the money comes in yen, the burden lands in rupees. JICA’s low-interest loan might seem like a friendly gesture from Tokyo, but its repayment schedule reads like a cruel joke to Sri Lankan taxpayers already buckling under sovereign debt.
The promise was an upgraded terminal, increased passenger capacity, and a seamless modern travel experience. What they got instead is scaffolding fatigue, exposed rebar, and a building site that seems more interested in horizontal delays than vertical progress.
The only thing arriving on time at BIA these days is the blame.
Enter the cast of characters in this aviation farce.
At the centre is the Airport and Aviation Services (Sri Lanka) Limited (AASL), which coordinated the project but now appears to have coordinated very little. Under COPE questioning, AASL distanced itself faster than a budget airline from a compensation claim, claiming it merely facilitated and cannot be held responsible for technical misalignments.
According to AASL, the real issue lies with the Project Management Unit (PMU), which, crucially, failed to appoint the required 13 qualified technical experts. Yes, 13 positions that were meant to oversee everything from engineering compliance to safety standards were either vacant or filled by people whose only qualification may have been loyalty to a minister.
PMU officials, when summoned, did what any good bureaucrat would do—they blamed the consultants.
The consultants and designers—originally brought in through the JICA funding framework—had provided international-standard blueprints. This included specific placement of fuel hydrants on the tarmac, crucial infrastructure that allows airplanes to refuel quickly and safely.
But then came the twist. The Ceylon Petroleum Corporation (CPC), specifically a contractor operating under the rather unassuming name VAC, reportedly decided that international standards were just... suggestions.
Instead, VAC insisted on a new fuel hydrant layout, deviating from the original Japanese design and introducing what one COPE member diplomatically called “a logistical and engineering absurdity.” In less polite terms, a complete mess.
So, what happens when you ignore the designer, replace international specifications with improvised genius, and build a fuel system in an ad hoc fashion?
You end up with a proposal to use only 40% of the tarmac space for refueling aircraft—a reduction so drastic it would be funny if it weren’t the literal fueling station for every commercial flight entering and leaving the country.
The impact is obvious: bottlenecks in aircraft servicing, increased turnaround times, flight delays, and eventually, airlines might start avoiding Colombo altogether. Just what Sri Lanka’s battered tourism sector needs—an international airport that struggles to refuel planes.
Oh, and did we mention there’s no parking?
Despite the project being in its umpteenth phase, the car parking facilities—a key component for any international airport—are still stuck in some planning purgatory. One would think that with all the concrete being poured and yen being spent, they could have managed a few ramps and parking bays. But alas, perhaps that’s Phase 42.
Visitors arriving today at BIA’s terminal still encounter chaotic drop-off points, unpaved access roads, and shuttle buses that look like they’ve seen more take-offs than the planes.
COPE, the parliamentary watchdog known for issuing stern warnings that echo into the void, is now circling this project with visible unease. Members questioned whether this is merely a case of mismanagement or something more sinister—deliberate obfuscation, perhaps to enable inflated costs, bribes, and rent-seeking.
The most damning question came from a COPE member with little patience for platitudes: "Who authorised the deviations from the JICA design? Who profited from the delays? And are we now paying interest on failure?"
Questions like these demand answers, but in Sri Lankan public infrastructure projects, the truth often takes the scenic route—if it arrives at all.
Beneath the surface-level chaos lies a deeper rot. Sources within the aviation ministry allege that certain politically connected firms lobbied hard to win subcontracts—especially around systems integration, HVAC, and fuel lines—by promising "efficiency" and "cost savings" while actually delivering none of the above.
One senior civil engineer involved in an earlier phase of the BIA project spoke off-record: "What you’re seeing is not incompetence. It’s organised chaos designed to justify repeated tenders, amendments, and inflated valuations."
In other words, a rolling construction site provides cover for continuous billing—and continuous billing means continuous commissions.
Did any former ministers benefit personally? Did certain CPC officials act under political pressure when overruling the JICA-compliant hydrant designs? Why was VAC, a firm with limited exposure to aviation-grade fueling infrastructure, even allowed to take the lead?
COPE now wants a criminal investigation into these matters—and not just a forensic audit, but prosecutorial action. Because at some point, bad engineering becomes fraud.
This debacle underscores a broader national malaise—Sri Lanka’s inability to manage foreign-funded infrastructure responsibly. From the whitewashed silence around Mattala "The Empty" Airport, to the revolving-door construction of expressways, the country keeps borrowing for development only to mismanage the very developments meant to repay the borrowings.
The JICA loan, once billed as a generous hand extended by a friendly nation, has now become an albatross around the necks of Sri Lankan taxpayers—who, by the way, had no say in any of this. They will continue repaying for a terminal that is yet to be completed, a basement that must be re-dug, and parking that exists only in concept art.
The irony? While COPE debates whether fuel hydrants are compliant and whether anyone remembered to build the basement correctly, Sri Lanka’s aviation industry is trying to attract more airlines, boost connectivity, and compete regionally with airports in India, the Maldives, and Southeast Asia.
But how can you market yourself as a regional hub when the airport terminal looks like a student project gone wrong, and the refueling system was designed by a petroleum contractor playing Lego?
Until the authorities get serious—about engineering, procurement, and above all, accountability—Sri Lanka's airport expansion will remain a cautionary tale told in diplomatic circles, boardrooms, and most insultingly, in the air.
The BIA expansion could have been a case study in effective bilateral cooperation and infrastructure diplomacy. Instead, it is now a study in how to turn an international loan into a national headache.
The lesson is clear: when governments treat public finance like a private buffet, even the best-laid runways lead nowhere.
If ever an airport deserved an emergency landing, this might be it.
-By LeN Economic Correspondent
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by (2025-05-17 16:30:47)
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