Two years ago, Sri Lankans voted for far more than a change of government. They voted for the dismantling of a political and economic order that had supposedly driven the country into bankruptcy. The fuel queues, the power cuts, the medicine shortages, the collapse of the rupee, the evaporation of savings, and the extraordinary sight of a sitting President fleeing the country convinced millions that the old system had exhausted its legitimacy.
The NPP rode that wave of public anger to one of the most emphatic electoral victories in Sri Lanka’s history. Its mandate was unprecedented because its promise was unprecedented – it did not simply promise to govern better than its predecessors, it promised a complete ‘system overhaul’.
Two years later, the question confronting the country is not whether the faces have changed, because they have. The question is whether the system itself has changed, or whether Sri Lanka is witnessing the emergence of a new phenomenon – one that was hiding in the wings under the old guard, but now, brave enough to come out into the open: Sri Lanka’s own oligarchy. It is a small circle of powerful corporate interests that increasingly shapes public policy while ordinary citizens shoulder the burden of economic recovery.
The Government deserves credit where credit is due and Sri Lanka has remained broadly on track with its IMF programme. The willingness to pursue corruption investigations against former political heavyweights, including the unprecedented legal action involving a former President, represents a significant departure from the culture of complete impunity that prevailed for decades.
Yet macroeconomic stabilisation was never the promise that inspired the electorate. The promise was to rebuild institutions, dismantle patronage networks, restore meritocracy, and ensure that power no longer resided in the hands of a privileged few. On that score, the picture is far less encouraging.
The executive presidency remains intact despite repeated promises to abolish it and electoral reforms have yet to materialise. Long-promised constitutional reforms remain confined to speeches while laws such as the Prevention of Terrorism Act, that were fiercely criticised by those now in office, continue to be used despite repeated concerns. And to top it off, the promised Provincial Council Elections seem to be all but forgotten.
More troubling is the growing perception that political power is increasingly intersecting with concentrated corporate influence. Across several of the country’s most important economic institutions, senior executives and influential figures from some of Sri Lanka’s largest private conglomerates have of late assumed prominent advisory and decision-making positions, as opposed to mere lobbying in the past. Individually, many of these appointments can be defended on grounds of competence and expertise. A bankrupt nation undoubtedly requires capable professionals to help steer economic recovery. But expertise is not a substitute for independence.
When individuals with extensive commercial interests participate directly in shaping policies affecting their own sectors, legitimate questions arise about conflicts of interest. Even where no impropriety exists, public confidence depends upon transparency, accountability, and the absence of undue influence. This is how oligarchies announce themselves. They do not seize power overnight through coups or constitutional crises, they emerge gradually through the fusion of political authority, economic power, and privileged access, under the language of efficiency, expertise, and national service.
The danger lies not in any single appointment but in the cumulative concentration of influence among a relatively small circle whose access to power appears largely unaffected by election results. Indeed, one of the most persistent criticisms heard today is that while governments change, the same business interests continue to enjoy extraordinary influence regardless of who occupies office.
Successive administrations have promised to eliminate corruption, recover stolen public assets, and prosecute the powerful. Yet investigations continue to drag on, commissions continue to gather dust, and accountability continues to appear painfully selective. The public was promised meritocracy. Instead, political appointments continue to dominate important institutions while thousands of highly qualified professionals continue leaving Sri Lanka in search of opportunities elsewhere.
The urgency that characterised Opposition politics appears to have slowed considerably in Government, with excuses replacing timelines. Blame has replaced responsibility whereas ordinary citizens continue carrying the overwhelming burden of economic adjustment through dramatically increased income taxes. Besides, electricity tariffs remain high, fuel prices continue to strain household budgets, and the cost of living remains stubbornly elevated, while disposable incomes continue to shrink.
Headline inflation rose to 6.8% in June 2026, with non-food inflation reaching 8.4% and food prices again accelerating on a monthly basis. For households already struggling with stagnant incomes, every increase in essential living costs represents another reduction in purchasing power. The middle class, long regarded as the engine of economic stability, is steadily disappearing, while many lower-income families survive only through limited welfare assistance that barely meets basic needs.
Ironically, despite imposing one of the heaviest tax burdens in recent memory, the Government now expects to collect less revenue. According to the Ministry of Finance’s Fiscal Strategy Statement 2027, total Government revenue, including grants, is projected to decline from 16.7% of GDP in 2025 to 15.8% in 2026. The ministry attributes this partly to the normalisation of tax collections following the resumption of vehicle imports in 2025 while warning that global trade disruptions and volatility in international energy markets could place further pressure on Government finances.
This presents a clear contradiction: if ordinary citizens are paying substantially more in taxes, why is Government revenue expected to decline? If higher taxation cannot sustainably strengthen public finances, then the country must begin asking whether the burden is being distributed fairly and whether sufficient attention is being given to expanding economic productivity, improving efficiency, eliminating waste, and ensuring that those with the greatest capacity to contribute do so proportionately.
Instead, the adjustment continues to fall disproportionately upon salaried employees, consumers, and small businesses. There has been no meaningful restructuring of the tax system that would require the country’s wealthiest individuals to contribute more substantially to national recovery through wealth tax, inheritance tax, etc. This inevitably reinforces the perception that while the poor are getting poorer and the middle class is disappearing, the country’s economic elite continues to prosper. When ordinary citizens are expected to justify every tax payment and every bank transaction, yet those associated with major financial scandals appear able to continue operating without consequences, it is inevitable that confidence in the rule of law would weaken.
Perhaps the greatest concern is not any single controversy but the remarkable continuity of influence enjoyed by a relatively small network of powerful individuals. Stories continue circulating of influential figures associated with previous administrations reappearing in key advisory and decision-making roles under the present Government. Allegations persist of individuals connected to controversial privatisations, procurement processes, State enterprise restructuring, and tax policy continuing to exercise significant influence irrespective of election outcomes and the promised system change.
Whether every allegation is ultimately proven is a matter for independent investigation and the courts. The larger issue is perception. If investors, citizens, and even public officials suspect that real power resides outside democratic institutions, that is the clearest sign that democracy is under threat. State capture rarely begins with spectacular corruption; it begins when simple procurement processes become less transparent, when regulatory decisions increasingly favour those with privileged access, when public policy becomes indistinguishable from private interest, and when powerful networks continue flourishing regardless of which party wins elections.
That is the system Sri Lankans believed they were rejecting. The tragedy is that oligarchy does not necessarily replace democracy but quietly colonises it. Political dynasties gradually give way to corporate dynasties and family patronage evolves into boardroom influence. The faces change but the networks remain.
Sri Lankans did not endure economic collapse, lose their savings, and sacrifice their livelihoods merely to replace one privileged elite with another. The mandate of 2024 was not simply to elect new leaders; it was to fundamentally change the relationship between political power, economic privilege, and the State itself.
There is still time for this Government to fulfil that promise. It possesses an overwhelming parliamentary majority, relative political stability, and a public that, while increasingly impatient, has not entirely lost hope. Until institutions become stronger than individuals, accountability stronger than political loyalty, and transparency stronger than privilege, Sri Lanka will continue changing governments without changing the system.
And if citizens eventually conclude that one oligarchy has merely succeeded another, it is inevitable that they may once again seek change outside the ballot box. The Aragalaya was a rebellion against a system that convinced ordinary people that the rules applied only to them while the privileged remained untouchable. That lesson should not be forgotten by any government that came to power promising to ensure it would never happen again.