When the National People’s Power (NPP) Government swept into office, it did so on a singular, compelling promise: system change. It pledged to dismantle corruption, end nepotism, and restore credibility to institutions hollowed out by decades of political interference. For a country battered by economic collapse and moral exhaustion, that promise was not merely attractive, it was essential.
Sixteen months into governance, the delayed appointment of an Auditor General has become a defining moment for that pledge. It was a crisis, unfolding not on the streets but within the heart of the constitutional system. And it exposed an uncomfortable truth: rhetoric is far easier than reform.
The office of the Auditor General is not a ceremonial post. It is the constitutional sentinel over public finance, entrusted with scrutinising how billions of rupees are spent, misused, or siphoned away. In a country where corruption has been systemic rather than incidental, the Auditor General is one of the few institutional counterweights to executive power. Leaving that office vacant for months was not a procedural hiccup. It was a failure of governance.
The Government inherited a fragile system, but it did not inherit paralysis. What followed instead was a protracted standoff between the President and the Constitutional Council, with multiple nominations rejected and no urgency demonstrated to resolve the impasse. For months, the National Audit Office functioned without a permanent head, and for a period, even without an acting Auditor General. Audit processes slowed, parliamentary oversight weakened, and accountability receded.
This was the moment when the Government’s central premise should have asserted itself. A government serious about fighting corruption would have treated the Auditor General appointment as sacrosanct. It would have prioritised competence, independence, and institutional continuity over ego, influence, or tactical manoeuvring. Instead, the drawn-out process raised troubling questions about intent.
The Government cannot plausibly argue ignorance. It knows the history of political interference in audit functions. It knows how previous regimes sought to weaken oversight bodies through delay, dilution, or pliant appointments. It also knows that anti-corruption is not enforced through slogans but through institutions that are allowed to function without fear or favour.
The insistence on nominees who failed to secure Constitutional Council approval suggests either poor judgment or a disregard for the very checks and balances the government claims to respect. Neither reflects well on an administration that promised a clean break from the past. System change, after all, requires humility before institutions, not impatience with them.
Supporters of the Government may argue the eventual appointment of a senior internal officer vindicates the process. That argument misses the point. The issue is not only who was appointed, but how long the country was left without effective audit leadership and why. The delay itself undermined the credibility of the State’s commitment to accountability.
Anti-corruption cannot be selective. It cannot be invoked when investigating political opponents and ignored when institutional independence becomes inconvenient. It cannot coexist with prolonged vacancies in key oversight bodies. A Government that truly seeks to uproot corruption understands that the most powerful reform is often the least dramatic: ensuring institutions work, on time, without interference.
This episode also exposes a deeper contradiction within the Government’s narrative. While it speaks of dismantling elite privilege, it appears uncomfortable relinquishing executive influence over appointments. While it condemns the old political culture, it risks reproducing its habits through delay, defensiveness, and opaque decision making.
Sri Lanka’s crisis was not merely economic. It was a crisis of trust. The electorate did not vote for perfection, but it did vote for integrity. That integrity is measured not by speeches or prosecutorial zeal, but by respect for constitutional processes and institutional autonomy.
The Auditor General appointment should have been the easiest win for a government built on anti-corruption. Instead, it became a cautionary tale. If system change falters at the first serious institutional test, then the promise risks becoming another chapter in the long history of political disappointment.
The Government still has time to correct course. But time alone will not restore credibility. Only consistent action, guided by principle rather than convenience, can do that.
System change is not declared. It is demonstrated, one appointment at a time.