USING SOLAR-POWERED SATELLITE PHONES
USING SOLAR-POWERED SATELLITE PHONES
When all else fails—when the power grid collapses, cell towers go silent, and the internet goes dark—what remains? In times of disaster, the humble satellite phone becomes the last line of communication, the invisible thread connecting rescuers, survivors, and command centers. But what happens when even electricity is gone? That’s where the solar-powered satellite phone comes in—a simple but powerful solution to a very Filipino problem: unreliable power and unreliable signals.
Satellite phones, as we know, don’t depend on terrestrial cell towers. They link directly to satellites orbiting Earth, making them indispensable in disaster-prone countries like ours. Typhoons, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions can take down the best fiber optic lines and the strongest telecom towers—but not the sky. However, as practical as these phones are, they still need energy. During the onslaught of Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda), communication breakdowns delayed relief operations for days. That’s why solar kits for satellite phones are a must-have for every emergency response team, police outpost, and coastal barangay.
To be clear, there is no such thing as a satellite phone that runs purely on solar cells. Instead, solar charging kits—like those made by Sunslice, Goal Zero, and Iridium’s own off-grid bundles—allow these devices to be powered anywhere under the sun. The standard kit usually includes a 5- to 20-watt solar panel, a power bank, and adapters that can charge both the satellite phone and other small devices.
In the Philippines, some agencies are already making quiet moves toward this technology. The Department of Information and Communications Technology (DICT), through its programs for Geographically Isolated and Disadvantaged Areas (GIDAs), is deploying solar-powered satellite kits for rural connectivity. The Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) and the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC) also rely on satellite phones for emergency coordination—particularly in regions where the first thing that disappears after a storm is the signal.
The Philippine Coast Guard and the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) use satellite systems for patrol and rescue operations. Even the Philippine National Police (PNP), under Memorandum Circular No. 2023-067, mandates satellite communication for field commanders during crises. While these policies don’t explicitly require solar kits, they should—especially since most police detachments in the far-flung areas struggle with electricity.
One local player, iOne Resources, Inc., has been offering “SatLink Enterprise”—a managed satellite network bundled with solar-powered kits designed for off-grid use. It’s a good model for public-private partnerships: the government provides funding, while the private sector provides technical capacity and maintenance.
But here’s where it gets tricky: corruption. Procurement of high-value technology is often tainted by overpricing and kickbacks. It’s not uncommon to hear stories of satellite phones bought at double their real price, or solar kits procured that never get delivered. This is why I suggest bringing blockchain technology into the picture—not as a buzzword, but as a solution.
A blockchain-based procurement ledger, such as those offered by local platforms like Aksyonchain, can record every step of the bidding, purchase, and payment process. The advantage? Transparency. Prices are visible to all stakeholders. Audit trails are immutable. No official can inflate the cost without everyone noticing. In short, blockchain can disinfect the system with sunlight—the best disinfectant of all.
Imagine this: every purchase of a solar-powered satellite kit is logged publicly on a blockchain. The public can see that the phone costs ₱150,000, the solar kit ₱20,000, and the delivery fee ₱5,000—no hidden “miscellaneous” charges. With such a system, we could finally say goodbye to the “commission culture” that plagues disaster preparedness.
Now, imagine if every barangay—from Batanes to Tawi-Tawi—had at least one solar-powered satellite phone. In an archipelago of more than 7,000 islands, such redundancy isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. It would empower local officials to call for help immediately, even when cut off from the mainland. It could even save lives.
The challenge, of course, is funding. Should the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) prioritize this? Should local government units (LGUs) allocate a slice of their calamity funds to procure these kits? I say yes—to all of the above. It’s not just an investment in hardware, but in resilience.
In the age of climate change, where super typhoons are the new normal, we can’t afford to lose communication for even an hour. We have the technology. We have local suppliers. What we lack is political will—and perhaps a little more honesty.
So yes, let’s buy solar-powered satellite phones. But let’s also procure them the right way—powered not just by sunlight, but by transparency. Because when the next big one hits, and all we have left is the sky, that small, solar-charged signal could make all the difference between chaos and coordination.
After all, in times of crisis, a single phone call can save a thousand lives.
Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 04-07-2026
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