Regional brief · Issue 13
The satellite that's ready for space — and stuck on the ground.
Vietnam's most capable satellite is stranded on the ground. This week, a nine-month-old startup owned by the country's richest man found a way around the problem. Two paths to space — and what they say about the region.
Somewhere in a clean room sits one of the most capable satellites Southeast Asia will soon operate. LOTUSat-1 can see through cloud and darkness and pick out something a metre wide on the ground — exactly what a country hit by floods and storms needs. It's finished. It's just not in space.
The rocket meant to carry it — Japan's new Epsilon S — keeps failing on the test stand; its motor has caught fire twice in under two years, and there's no firm launch date. So the finished spacecraft waits — not on Vietnam, but on someone else's pad.
Here's the part worth understanding, and it isn't a knock on anyone. Vietnam didn't build this satellite or simply buy it. It came as a package from Japan: Japan's aid agency, JICA, financed it; Japan's NEC built it; Vietnamese engineers trained alongside them; and a Japanese rocket was to launch it. That partnership has been genuinely good for Vietnam — a world-class satellite and a generation of trained engineers. But the technology, the rocket and the timeline all belong to someone else. The satellite will be Vietnam's to fly. It just didn't fund it, build it, or launch it — Japan did all three.
This is a pattern I hope changes. Southeast Asia sits inside the fastest-growing satellite market on Earth — Asia-Pacific, where the small-satellite market is growing around 24% a year — and it's building and operating more of its own. But the launch, the one step that actually gets them up there, still isn't theirs.
Which is why this week matters. While the state's satellite sits stranded, a nine-month-old private company solved the problem differently. VinSpace — a subsidiary of Vingroup, 71%-owned by Pham Nhat Vuong, Vietnam's richest man — signed a launch contract with SpaceX, flying its first satellites on a Transporter rideshare in 2027. No aid loan, no tied rocket: it simply bought a seat. And it's building "Make in Vietnam" nanosatellites in-house, aiming to run the whole stack from design to data.
So here, in one country, are two ways to reach space. The state took the patient, aid-funded path — a superb satellite, still grounded. A private billionaire saw the opportunity and took it — build it at home, pay for your own ride, move in months.
It's a healthier kind of dependency: the satellite is built locally, and though it still flies on a foreign rocket, it does so as a paying customer choosing its own timing — not a recipient waiting on someone else. The rocket still isn't Vietnamese — which is why launch, the last piece of the puzzle no one in the region owns yet, is exactly what a handful of local startups (Thailand's Equatorial Space among them) are now racing to build.
So who should care?
Founders — every gap a foreign partner fills (launch, ground stations, data) is a market waiting for someone local.
Investors — demand is proven and a major conglomerate is now backing it, while local supply barely exists.
Policymakers — Vietnam is running your experiment live: wait for capability to be handed to you, or back someone building it themselves.
Southeast Asia has proven it can build satellites. The real test is owning everything that gets them flying — without waiting on someone else's launch pad.
Last issue: The last station standing — how China built its own space station after being locked out of the ISS.
Cheers,
— shirley
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