Millions of Sri Lankans did not simply vote for a new Government in September 2024; they voted for a new political culture. They voted in the hope that arrogance would give way to accountability, corruption would give way to transparency, and impunity would finally come to an end. Yet today, less than two years into office, a growing number of citizens are beginning to wonder whether they voted for transformation or merely another variation of the same old cycle.
The shocks are now coming thick and fast. Before the public can recover from one controversy, another emerges. Last week, the man identified as the whistleblower and key witness in the Treasury scandal involving the disappearance of $ 2.5 million supposedly died by suicide. Almost immediately, Opposition parties and independent observers cast doubts over the official narrative. Questions were raised over the autopsy report, with allegations that bruises and other suspicious details had not been adequately addressed. This week, yet another key witness linked to the high-profile Airbus deal during the previous regime also reportedly died in what authorities have again described as suicide.
These incidents, taken individually, are troubling enough; taken together, they are generating an atmosphere of distrust, suspicion, and fear. Yet what is perhaps most alarming is not merely the incidents themselves, but the Government’s apparent inability – or unwillingness – to appreciate the gravity of public concern surrounding it. While ministers continue to devote enormous energy to revisiting corruption scandals of the past, there is a mounting perception that the crises unfolding under the current administration are either being ignored, downplayed, or politically managed.
This growing frustration is increasingly reflected in the language people are using to describe the Government. Sri Lankans were promised ‘system change’. Instead, many now bitterly joke that what they have received is ‘system slow,’ which has now evolved into ‘system hacked,’ and may soon descend into full ‘system malfunction’. If that happens, the inevitable consequence will be calls for a ‘system restart’.
Such cynicism does not emerge in a vacuum. It is born out of repeated patterns that the public has now begun to recognise with alarming familiarity. First comes the scandal, usually involving staggering sums of public money. Then comes the damage-control phase, during which loyalists scramble to minimise the issue while supporters attempt to whitewash the indefensible. In this digital age, it only takes minutes for the truth to emerge. Then, contradictions emerge alongside excuses. Those who aggressively defended the scandal are left embarrassed. Yet before accountability can truly take place, another scandal erupts and the cycle repeats itself.
The tragedy is that many of the voters who faithfully backed other more traditional parties shifted their allegiance to the National People’s Power at the last election because they believed this administration would be different. They were not looking for perfection; they were looking for sincerity, competence, and accountability. Instead, what they increasingly see is a political culture where every ‘mistake’ is defended and anyone who points them out is immediately branded an enemy.
This Government was not elected so that it could later justify itself by saying past controversies were bigger than the present ones. It was elected on the explicit promise that not a single cent of public money would be stolen, wasted, or abused. That was the moral foundation upon which its legitimacy was built. The moment it begins comparing past controversies against the present, it risks admitting that this Government is no different to the rest.
Recent developments have reinforced the perception that appointing inexperienced loyalists to key institutions without properly following State recruitment procedures has created a dangerous culture of incompetence and politicisation. Almost overnight, the entire State structure appears to have been rebuilt around political loyalty rather than institutional continuity and expertise. Under such circumstances, the question arises as to how a country can move forward when almost every critical institution is simultaneously in ‘learning mode’.
The economic indicators themselves offer little comfort. Within just one year and seven months, the rupee has depreciated from Rs. 293 to Rs. 322 against the US Dollar, a decline of nearly 10%. Inflation has moved from negative territory to over 5% while foreign investment remains painfully weak. There are no transformative development projects generating optimism or employment, and infrastructure damaged during Cyclone Ditwah still remains unrepaired while questions continue to surround funds collected for disaster relief, with allegations that they have been diverted into unlawful mechanisms outside proper oversight.
Meanwhile, international confidence too appears increasingly fragile. Latest reports suggest that Poland is preparing to raise concerns before the European Union regarding alleged corruption in Sri Lanka’s tender process linked to the controversial e-passport procurement. Such allegations are deeply damaging at a time when Sri Lanka desperately needs international credibility to attract investment and maintain financial support. Meanwhile, two IMF loan instalments reportedly remain unpaid while tourism, which was expected to spearhead recovery, has failed to deliver.
Perhaps the most devastating criticism of all is that the Government increasingly appears to rely on rhetoric rather than results. The speeches remain fiery, the slogans revolutionary, and the promises grand. But beneath the surface, ordinary citizens are confronting rising living costs, mounting uncertainty, and a State machinery that appears increasingly dysfunctional.
The list of recent financial controversies alone would have shaken any administration. The Treasury reportedly cannot account for $ 2.5 million it paid out, with the earlier hacking narrative now giving way to ‘human error’. Sri Lanka Post allegedly does not know what happened to another payment of $ 600,000. Millions more are reportedly being lost through coal tender irregularities that may ultimately push electricity prices even higher. Rs. 500 million has allegedly been overpaid through duplicate payments to ‘Aswesuma’ beneficiaries. Another $ 80 million is alleged to have been wasted through fertiliser purchases made at vastly inflated prices. Now the Polish complaint regarding the e-passport tender threatens yet another international embarrassment involving millions of dollars. At the same time, ordinary Sri Lankans continue to absorb the pain. LP Gas prices have risen to record levels. Fuel prices have increased repeatedly within weeks. VAT on digital services is set to rise while the rupee continues its downward slide.
The growing anxiety surrounding democratic institutions has deepened the crisis. Controversy erupted following the President’s May Day speech in which he asked supporters to be prepared to applaud court decisions expected on 25 May. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL) responded with unusual sharpness, warning that such remarks could be interpreted as interference with the judicial process and could erode public trust in judicial independence. The BASL correctly emphasised that justice must not only be independent but must also appear independent in the eyes of the public. Any perception that political leaders are attempting to influence judicial outcomes is profoundly dangerous in a fragile democracy already struggling with institutional credibility.
At the same time, the Opposition continues to accuse the Government of unprecedented politicisation through the appointment of loyalists as heads of the CID, Police, Fraud Bureau, Bribery Commission, and Treasury. Whether entirely fair or not, these accusations are gaining traction because the Government has failed to establish sufficient distance between party structures and State institutions.
Corruption under the present administration may not yet appear as entrenched or systemic as during the Rajapaksa years, but that is hardly a defence. What is proving corrosive is the combination of alleged corruption, administrative incompetence, and extraordinary inefficiency. The abandonment of promised education reforms, the failure to act decisively against a former Speaker accused of submitting forged educational qualifications, allegations involving ministers and politically connected individuals, and controversies surrounding property disputes and unexplained wealth are all steadily eroding the Government’s moral authority.
The danger for the administration is not merely political but existential. Governments can survive criticism, scandals, and even economic hardship. What they cannot survive is the collapse of moral credibility after having built their entire identity around moral superiority.
Sri Lanka today sits atop what increasingly resembles an economic and political volcano. Public patience is thinning and faith in institutions is weakening. The distance between rhetoric and reality is widening by the day. If the Government genuinely wishes to regain public confidence, it cannot continue taking refuge in the sins of previous administrations. Continuously pointing to larger frauds of the past is nothing more than deflection. Worse still, it risks becoming an indirect admission that the present failures too are indefensible.
The only path forward is honesty, accountability, and transparency. The Government must own its mistakes instead of attacking those who expose them. It must permit truly independent investigations whenever scandals arise. It must protect judicial independence rather than create perceptions of political influence. Most importantly, it must recognise that ‘system change’ was never about replacing one group of loyalists with another, but more about building institutions strong enough to outlast political parties themselves.