A little over a year ago, Sri Lanka appeared to turn a new page in its turbulent political history when 43% of registered voters cast their ballots for Anura Kumara Dissanayake, electing him as the ninth Executive President of Sri Lanka. It was an unprecedented moment where, for the first time, a presidential candidate who failed to secure the constitutionally ideal 50% plus one vote of the electorate still ascended to the highest office in the land. No one minded since the appetite for change was great, in a nation caught between hope and disillusionment.
In the larger scheme of things, it is fair to say that promises built the Dissanayake presidency – more specifically five core promises that resonated deeply with a disenchanted electorate weary of corruption, inflation, and the decay of governance. These were: the abolition of the executive presidency; a substantial and immediate reduction in the cost of living – particularly for utilities like electricity, gas, and fuel; a swift and transparent investigation into the Easter Sunday attacks to expose the true masterminds; a renegotiation of the IMF bailout package to secure fairer terms for the people; and a sweeping crackdown on corruption and waste within government.
For a public exhausted by the excesses of successive administrations, these pledges represented the possibility of redemption. Yet, one year on, the bright slogans have dimmed and deadlines have vanished. Voters who were attracted to the NPP campaign built on timelines, or rather self-imposed deadlines to deliver on the promises, have been left high and dry. The abolition of the executive presidency, the NPP’s single most symbolic promise, has all but disappeared from public discourse, while its second biggest promise of reducing the cost of living remains a myth.
Worse, the party that once vilified privatisation as a betrayal of public trust is suddenly parroting the same justifications offered by its predecessors. At a recent Ratnapura District Development Committee meeting, President Dissanayake himself echoed the language of his predecessor, advocating the privatisation of State-owned commercial entities – no doubt a moment of painful irony of the critic becoming the conformist. Reality, it seems, has forced the NPP to eat humble pie.
But this is Sri Lanka, a land like no other where, when substance fades, spectacle takes over. Bereft of meaningful progress, the NPP Government has turned increasingly to what can only be described as a theatre of absurdities – a political circus seemingly designed to distract, amuse, or confuse the public.
The Deputy Minister of Public Security declared last week that the 159 NPP MPs in Parliament were “equal or better” than the globally respected and highly regarded late Lakshman Kadirgamar. The statement would have been laughable if it were not so tragic. Then, just days later, another Deputy Minister proclaimed that the country could benefit from the “immense knowledge” of an underworld criminal recently extradited from Nepal, describing her as an “intelligent woman” whose insights could contribute to national development.
As if that were not bad enough, an outspoken MP – a lawyer by profession – raised a stir by announcing at a public forum that she had instructed the Police not to carry out a court order. Regardless of the circumstances, this was a shocking display of contempt for the Judiciary and a blatant violation of constitutional boundaries. If relief is necessary, the proper avenue is through appeal, not defiance.
The question being asked is, what authority does this MP have to publicly instruct that a court order be ignored? If such behaviour is tolerated, what message does it send about the sanctity of the Judiciary? The duty of any government is to ensure that court rulings are respected and implemented. The MP’s comments amount not only to contempt but also to direct interference in the judicial process.
The NPP leadership now faces a defining test of its credibility: will it hold its own members accountable under the same standards it promised to uphold? Two former MPs from previous administrations have served jail time for statements far less injurious to judicial integrity. If the NPP’s response is silence, it will only confirm what critics already suspect – that the Government’s moral compass is increasingly becoming negotiable.
The Bar Association, too, faces a test of its own relevance. Will it condemn such open defiance of the courts, or will it retreat into silence out of political convenience? And what of the Inspector General of Police? Will he act according to the court order or follow the illegal directive of the MP? These are not abstract questions but matters that strike at the heart of governance and accountability.
If undermining the Judiciary were not alarming enough, growing evidence suggests that the Police, particularly the CID, has become increasingly politicised. A former Police inspector recently filed a Fundamental Rights petition, alleging that his rights were violated when he was pressured by the CID to testify against former Navy Commander Nishantha Ulugetenne, who was arrested recently on human rights allegations.
The Kurunegala High Court, when granting bail to Ulugetenne – a decorated war veteran who played a crucial role in the war against the LTTE – strongly criticised the CID’s conduct, noting that its procedures had violated the Criminal Procedure Code. The Judge remarked that the CID Director’s behaviour was unbecoming of a senior officer and that investigations must be conducted strictly according to the law. His words were a stinging indictment of the very institution meant to uphold the law, confirming the politicisation that many suspect.
The decay does not seem to end there. Allegations of politicisation have reached the Bribery Commission itself, following the controversial appointment of its new Director General. With over 300,000 pending cases reportedly languishing before the commission, cases targeting political opponents appear to be receiving fast-track treatment. A case in point is the recent filing against a former Director of the State Engineering Corporation over work allegedly done at the UNP Headquarters in 2019 – a matter of questionable national importance compared to the ocean of uninvestigated corruption that plagues the nation.
At the end of the day, justice must not only be done but also seen to be done. The selective enthusiasm with which the Government pursues certain cases while ignoring others exposes a dangerous trend of using institutions meant for justice as tools for intimidation. The consequences of that are well known.
Against this backdrop, it is unfortunate that the early months of optimism are being replaced by quiet frustration. The working class, struggling under the relentless cost of living, has been left to swim or sink while the promise of a ‘people’s government’ has been replaced by the same arrogance and insensitivity that defined previous regimes. The people did not vote for the NPP in order to witness more of the same. They wanted a new political culture, one that respected the law, valued competence, and upheld accountability.
The NPP’s greatest strength was never its economic expertise or administrative experience; it was its moral narrative – the claim that it represented something new, something honest. That narrative is now fraying. Each instance of double standards, each spectacle of ignorance, each act of institutional interference is slowly but surely chipping away at the party’s credibility.
The NPP must confront the hard truth that slogans cannot be substituted for governance. The people who believed in this movement are not demanding miracles, just honesty and integrity. In that respect, the Government must urgently act towards restoring public confidence in key institutions like the Judiciary, Police, and anti-corruption apparatus. It must stop shielding errant ministers and start holding them accountable. It must replace rhetoric with results.
The abolition of the executive presidency, the promise that defined Dissanayake’s campaign, cannot be relegated to the dustbin of political convenience. Nor can the fight against corruption become selective or symbolic. If the NPP continues on its current path, dismissive of criticism, obsessed with theatrics, and entangled in its own contradictions, it risks squandering not only its mandate but also the people’s last vestige of faith in reformist politics. Every government reaches a point where it must choose between defending its failures or learning from them. The NPP stands at that crossroads today.