Timor-Leste's Grand Vision: A Ghost Airport and a Crumbling Highway Built on a Risky Oil Gamble!
Imagine a gleaming international airport, built for bustling air traffic, now eerily silent, serving only the occasional medical evacuation. Picture a state-of-the-art, four-lane highway, stretching for 33 kilometers, marred by gaping sinkholes, with vehicles so scarce they're a novelty. This isn't a scene from a dystopian film; it's the stark reality in Suai, Timor-Leste, where colossal infrastructure projects, once hailed as harbingers of prosperity, now stand as monuments to unfulfilled promises.
Joao Gusmao, a local community leader, vividly recalls the optimism surrounding the Xanana Gusmão International Airport's opening in 2017. "We were told lots of planes would fly here," he shared with the ABC, "That there'd be jobs and lots of opportunities, especially for the young people. But the reality is different."
Indeed, the $120 million airport, designed for large jets, sees minimal use. On the day of the ABC's visit, the sole scheduled flight was a tiny, six-seater plane for a medical evacuation. Despite the lack of passengers, a dedicated cleaning crew diligently mops the spotless floors and maintains the bathrooms – one of the few jobs the airport has indirectly created. The security and check-in desks remain unmanned, departure and arrival screens are blank, and the X-ray machine, locals say, has never worked. The vast car park is perpetually empty, earning it the somber nickname, "ghost airport."
Just a kilometer away lies another colossal, yet underutilized, piece of infrastructure: a $550 million, four-lane, 33-kilometer 'super highway' constructed by a Chinese consortium. This impressive road, meant to be a vital artery, is now a lonely stretch where vehicles are a rare sight. When the ABC visited, only two trucks and a few cars were observed in over an hour. Scooters, often erratically driven on the wrong side of the road, weave around three massive sinkholes that have emerged, turning this modern marvel into a hazard.
"We spent a lot of money on building the airport, highway [but] they're unused," lamented Marta Da Silva, head of the local NGO La'o Hamutuk. "There's no benefit-cost. There's no return on investment. It's still empty." She added, "[The government] has come in with a big dream, a big beautiful plan, without thinking about its capacity to implement it."
The Grand Plan: Betting Big on Oil and Gas
This ambitious infrastructure was built with a singular, monumental goal: to process the vast oil and gas reserves from the Greater Sunrise field, located about 150 kilometers south-east of Timor-Leste. This field, estimated to hold resources worth up to $50 billion, has long been seen as Timor-Leste's economic savior. The 'Tasi Mane project,' encompassing the airport and highway, was envisioned to support an onshore liquefied natural gas (LNG) plant and refinery, with the airport serving as a hub for the workforce and supply chain.
However, this vision has yet to materialize. "Right now it's looking very much like a white elephant," stated oil and gas analyst Saul Kavonic. The Timor-Leste government, which holds over half of the project's stake, has steadfastly refused to pipe the gas to Darwin, Australia, opting instead for an onshore processing facility. Kavonic suggests this stance is driven by more than just economics, pointing to "resource nationalism" and the "politics and personalities of very influential people in Timor."
He explained, "There's a lot of political capital that has been invested in the idea that Greater Sunrise is going to come to Timor." While the economic multiplier effects of an onshore LNG project are undeniable, Kavonic cautioned that the commercial realities are starkly different. "This project is actually too small to be economic, and developed in Timor, on a purely commercial basis." He noted that Woodside, the project operator, which owns about a third of the field, does not consider it a priority, a sentiment echoed by other major oil and gas companies.
Woodside, in a statement, indicated a commitment to a "new cooperation agreement" with the Timor-Leste government to "carry out studies and activities to mature a Timor-based LNG concept," with potential for "first LNG" as early as 2032-2035, contingent on concept selection and investment decisions.
A Sordid History and Lingering Doubts
The Greater Sunrise project's journey has been fraught with challenges, including a lengthy maritime border dispute between Australia and Timor-Leste, which was finally resolved in 2018. Despite this resolution, the field remains undeveloped.
Recently, Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese visited Timor-Leste, where President Jose Ramos Horta and Prime Minister Xanana Gusmão reiterated the nation's unwavering commitment to onshore processing. "Timor-Leste's position on Greater Sunrise has always, always been clear," Prime Minister Gusmão declared. "The natural gas fields of Greater Sunrise must be processed onshore in Timor-Leste. This is essential for our national development and for the long-term strength of our family."
While Mr. Albanese announced a plan to return at least a third of Australia's future revenue from the project to Timor-Leste, he remained non-committal on the gas's destination, acknowledging "commercial issues involved."
The 'China Card' and a High-Stakes Gamble
According to Kavonic, Timor-Leste faces limited options. They could concede and allow the gas to be piped to Australia, leverage the "political card" of potential Chinese investment to pressure Australia into subsidizing the project, or, most audaciously, buy out Woodside and proceed independently.
This last option, Kavonic warns, would be "an exceptionally risky thing for the nation of Timor, in the long term," as it would mean "gambling the entire national economy and government budget on a single LNG project with no proven operator."
Back in Suai, the impact of these high-stakes decisions is felt deeply by the local community. Hundreds were displaced to make way for the airport and highway, with promises of a mini-market, chapel, and kindergarten that have yet to materialize. Despite the delays and broken promises, Joao Gusmao remains cautiously optimistic: "Development is slow. It's a long process, but we have to prepare. We need these projects for the next generation, so our future isn't as difficult."
But here's where it gets controversial: Is Timor-Leste's unwavering insistence on onshore processing a matter of national pride and long-term vision, or a potentially ruinous gamble driven by political will rather than commercial viability? Could the pursuit of resource nationalism jeopardize the very economic future it aims to secure?
What do you think? Is Timor-Leste's gamble on Greater Sunrise a brave step towards self-sufficiency, or a dangerous overreach? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
