After much fanfare, the ruling regime rushed the Presidents’ Entitlements (Repeal) Bill through Parliament last week, securing a comfortable majority of 150 votes. In the Government’s eyes, it was to be a triumphant moment carefully projected as an act of political cleansing and stripping away of privilege in the name of the common man.
But politics is rarely that straightforward. Instead of basking in the glow of moral high ground, the move appears to have underdelivered the intended dividends. Instead, one former President, a maestro in the art of image building, seized the spotlight, wresting away whatever capital the regime may have hoped to accrue. In the process, Mahinda Rajapaksa was thrust back into the political limelight, almost mirroring Ranil Wickremesinghe’s own quiet re-emergence just weeks earlier. In both instances what became apparent was the ruling regime’s amateurish approach to the dog-eat-dog world of unforgiving politics.
As a result, instead of scoring points, the regime was left scrambling to explain itself. Minister Sunil Handunnetti, being forced to comment on the matter, insisted that the move was simply an election pledge fulfilled and that “no one should be upset”. Yet, for once, the Opposition pounced with a piercing counter: if promises were the justification, where was the urgency on other, far weightier pledges? Where was the drive to recover the stolen billions hidden away in Uganda – a key election promise? Where was the promised relief from suffocating fuel and electricity prices? Where was the reduction in the cost of living?
The eagerness to slash the entitlements of former presidents while dragging feet on matters that touch the stomachs and survival of millions has cast a shadow on the regime’s bona fides. Rather than being shown up as principled reform as obviously intended, the optics suggested vendetta – a political witch-hunt disguised as principled governance.
Government spokesmen have been trying to justify the move with arithmetic. Minister Ananda Wijepala revealed that in 2024, Sri Lanka spent Rs. 98.5 million on benefits for five ex-Presidents and one widow, averaging Rs. 1.37 million per person per month. By scrapping these entitlements, the State would save nearly Rs. 100 million annually, it was said. Although the amount may look significant on paper, the cost works out to Rs. 5 per citizen per year. It seems like a drop in the ocean compared to Sri Lanka’s current overall public expenditure, which has ballooned to Rs. 3,467 billion in just the first half of 2025, up by a massive Rs. 367 billion from the year before, despite the Government supposedly being on cost cutting/cost saving mode.
What is far more consequential however is that future presidents, knowing they will be on their own once out of office, may act less decisively while in power, especially when taking difficult decisions like waging war on the underworld, powerful drug lords, or corrupt oligarchs. Would a president dare to take them on knowing well that they will be abandoned once out of office? In fact, Nepal provided a cautionary tale, where its former leaders were targeted and even killed. Sri Lanka now also runs the risk of creating a culture where leaders cling to power out of fear rather than stepping aside with dignity.
Therefore, the real danger is not the rupees saved but the erosion of incentives for honest, courageous governance. One could argue that had such entitlements not been there in the past, terrorists and insurrectionists would still be having a field day. It can also be argued that denying a dignified retirement for the nation’s head of state only encourages office-holders to maximise personal gain while in office; if tomorrow offers no safety, today will likely become a feeding frenzy.
The origins of presidential retirement benefits trace back to J.R. Jayewardene in 1986. Critics, especially the JVP, have long claimed JR introduced the entitlements for his own benefit. Yet JR, in a gesture of grand statesmanship, bequeathed his entire estate to the State, including his Colombo residence. His nephew, Ranil Wickremesinghe, has pledged to do the same. In these cases, the State gains more from their estates than it could ever pay in entitlements. So the pendulum does swing both ways, depending on the person concerned.
The regime’s ire appears to be directed at the Rajapaksa brothers, Chandrika Kumaratunga, and Maithripala Sirisena. Ironically, all four rode to power with the explicit support of the JVP, the very party now crying foul of them – political theatre at its most cynical. The Opposition, meanwhile, has highlighted an obvious inconsistency. If cost-saving was the goal, why not abolish the executive presidency itself? That would nullify both the office and its retirement perks while fulfilling a far more substantial election pledge. This is why it is being said that the regime’s slip is showing.
It is also argued, if cost cutting and unnecessary expenditure is the prime motive, why is it that the regime has only scrapped presidential privileges? In fact, the real drain on coffers is the Parliamentary Pension Bill. Substantial savings could be derived by slashing the lifetime pensions of MPs, introduced in 1978 by JR with bipartisan blessings from the socialist brigade spearheaded by Dr. N.M. Perera.
It is due to this obvious hypocrisy that fingers are being pointed at the regime, accusing it of engaging in a political witch hunt on the pretext of saving tax rupees. Dozens of ex-JVP MPs are reportedly drawing parliamentary pensions, funneled into party coffers. Some of these ex-MPs have publicly stated that scrapping these benefits would force them to sue the party demanding that their ‘contributions’ be returned to them or face lawsuits. For months, ministers have hinted that extravagant presidential entitlements were a barrier to economic progress, a symbolic weight dragging down prosperity. That excuse is now gone. With presidential benefits stripped, the people now have every right to ask: where is the promised milk and honey?
For all intents and purposes, Sri Lanka’s economy remains fragile. The Ministry of Finance in its routine meeting with the parliamentary Committee on Public Finance last week forecast 3.1% growth in 2025, well short of the IMF recommended baseline 5 percent. The World Bank warns that at this baseline, poverty will remain at 20.4% in 2027, only returning to pre-crisis levels by 2034. Even with a more ambitious 5% growth rate, poverty would not revert to 2019 levels until 2031.
The Central Bank, marginally more upbeat, insists potential growth of 3-5% could stabilise the country over the next 5-10 years if fiscal sustainability and meaningful structural reforms are pursued. That means serious work: attracting foreign direct investment, supporting SMEs, boosting tourism and driving export competitiveness. At present, none of that groundwork is visible: no new infrastructure projects, farmers stripped of subsidies, foreign investment still a trickle, while the people bear the highest tax burden in South Asia. The obsession with theatrical politics seems to be consuming the energy that should be fueling economic recovery.
By focusing on the trivial, the government risks trivialising itself. The people are well aware that Rs. 100 million saved from ex-presidents’ entitlements will not bring down their electricity bill, refill their gas cylinder or lower the price of their daily staples. They know that the true hemorrhage of resources lies elsewhere; in bloated institutions, enduring corruption, mismanagement and parliamentary excess – each sitting of parliament estimated to cost Rs.50 million. If leaders are denied dignity in retirement, Sri Lanka may create presidents who cling to office, fearful of life outside it. That is a recipe for entrenched authoritarianism, where every exit feels like a death trap.
While the regime may congratulate itself on “delivering” a campaign pledge, it must realise that the applause is hollow. The latest legislation will not reduce the people’s burdens, will not boost the economy and will not bring back stolen wealth. What it has done is remove a useful excuse for its own under-performance. The government can no longer point to presidential entitlements as the stumbling block to the nation’s progress. The stage is cleared and the spotlight is now firmly on the government to deliver.