We live in the age of political communication. It is not just growing; it is spiralling. Politicians now think twice before they speak — sometimes even before they type. On 19 September 1952, standing at the City Hall in Springfield, Massachusetts, US, Presidential candidate Adlai Ewing Stevenson the 2nd said: “If they would stop telling lies about us, we would stop telling the truth about them.” Seventy-three years on, that line still does most of the hard work.

Now, the echoes of May Day are fading. New talking points are already on stage. It is a good time then, to open the balance sheet of words, silences, and spin. The focus: the President and the Government.

It is no secret why the National People’s Power (NPP) came to power. Strong speeches. Close to the people. No very important person script. The spirit of the aragalaya (the public political movement that sought a system change) carried it forward. No other movement came close. In many ways, it was a remarkable result — a clean sweep under a system designed to split votes.

In that wave, Anura Kumara Dissanayake stood at the centre. Firm. Visible. Unmovable. A man who looked less like a politician and more like a conviction — the iron curtain behind the success. But, his recent May Day speech gives pause. Something has shifted. Not dramatically. Not obviously. But enough to notice.

Has the fire dimmed slightly? Or is the voice quieter now because the weight of governing sits where the freedom of Opposition once stood? The question is not whether he has failed. It is whether his communication has kept pace with his responsibility.

With roughly 1,237 days already behind him since taking oaths on 23 September 2024, the President is no longer in the honeymoon phase. He is somewhere between “still settling in” and “people have started checking the bill”. Yet, with over three years left for both the Presidency and the Parliament, the NPP Government still has enough runway. It can land smoothly — or circle the airport blaming the weather.

Time is not yet the problem. Communication might be. Because in politics, losing the message is often the first sign of losing the plot.

Moments, not parties

Sri Lankans no longer fall in love with political parties. They fall in love with moments. Give them a fresh symbol, a new name, a face that does not remind them of the last disappointment, and they will follow.

The old brands are bleeding — slowly, but steadily. We have seen this before. The year 1994 was such a moment. A new political force came to power under Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, carried by a simple but powerful promise: end the 17-year rule of the UNP.

At that time, the UNP was deeply rooted in society — almost immovable. Yet today, the question writes itself: who leads the UNP group in Parliament? It is Jeevan Kumaravel Thondaman, originally the leader of the Ceylon Workers’ Congress. That shift alone tells a larger story.

The same unravelling is visible elsewhere. The SLFP, one of the oldest Parties in the country, has splintered into pieces — scattered like a nest caught in the wind. Its own seniors now clash at the gates of their Darley Road headquarters, fighting over keys, meeting in court premises to claim ownership — authority reduced to possession.

Then, there is the Rajapaksa front. Once dominant. Now uncertain. Basil Rajapaksa, arguably the most strategic mind in that camp, has stepped away from the centre of local politics. As heard in court, he has fallen from a chair and still seems to be trying to get back on his feet. Yet, if there is even a faint sign of a regime shift, he will not stay away. He will be at the airport. His supporters will be there too, waiting with garlands. After all, he was the mastermind who guided the SLPP to its sweeping victory at the 2018 Local Government Elections — a newly formed front that turned into a decisive force almost overnight.

Power without grip

The NPP remains a relatively new force. With its sudden rise to power, it is still looking around for capable individuals to handle critical subjects. Much like how Eran Wickramaratne, SJB Chief Organiser of the Moratuwa Electorate, took responsibility for the Cricket Reform Committee.

If we turn to the Government’s current communication behaviour, it feels disconnected. There is no real coherence. Perhaps the biggest reason is simple: the governance project is far bigger than the NPP predicted.

There is also no tight grip on critical sectors like the Police. From the start of the Clean Sri Lanka initiative up to now, it is difficult to say the Government has gained any real advantage through the Police performance. More disadvantages are visible.

The same pattern appears in the public service, including entities like the Prisons Department. Media reports have already shown that two inmates died following brutal attacks by Prison jailors. People expect more active involvement from the Government in such situations.

The basic issue is the gap between what was said in Opposition and what is done in power. This is not new. But today, it comes with a twist: the digital footprint does not fade. Speeches remain. Promises remain. They sit quietly online, waiting to be replayed.

So, when words and actions do not match, the backlash is instant. Sometimes harsh. Sometimes unfair. But always visible. That is the space that the NPP Government now finds itself in — especially the President.

Dreams and reality

There is an old parable in Sri Lanka about a villager who sees a dream. In it, there is a drumstick tree in front of his house, heavy with an unbelievable harvest. He is overjoyed. He believes that he can sell it all and buy a tractor.

In the dream, he does just that. He buys a large tractor and brings it home. But, there is a problem: the entrance is too narrow. The tractor cannot go in. In front of the house stands the same drumstick tree. So, he takes an axe and cuts it down.

At that moment, he wakes up — only to realise that, in his sleep, he has actually cut down the real tree. With that, all his dreams fade.

This story fits Sri Lankan voters too well. From time to time, they see dreams. Election manifestos look like that drumstick tree — full of promise, offering an easy harvest. But, in chasing the dream, there is always the risk of destroying what already exists. Call it a vicious cycle, if you like. It is hard to disagree.

If we examine the governance mistakes of the Government, the first is timing. Decisions come late — sometimes too late. Take the Cricket Board. Changes came after laying the foundation stone for a new ground in the Northern Province under the same system.

Then, there are the Provincial Council Elections. If the NPP wants to win now, it may need something close to a miracle. But, there was a clear chance earlier. A simple bill could have restored the old system. With the trends at the time, victory was not difficult.

Instead, power was enjoyed through appointed Governors. Now, the Opposition throws the challenge: if you are confident, hold the Elections. There are many such examples — enough to build a pattern.

Governance, after all, is not only about big ideas. It is about timing, sequence, and reading the ground.

There is a saying in local culture: even sugar, when it becomes too sweet, turns bitter. That, too, can apply to power.

At the end of the day, governance is about people — keeping them steady, keeping them reasonably content. The question is simple: how much effort is going into that?

Instead, we still hear the challenges. Gemunu Wijerathne and the Private Bus Owners. Continuous trade union pressure. The Government Medical Officers’ Association. Relentless social media attacks. At times, it almost feels as if these forces are bigger than the Government itself.

Whether that is true or not is beside the point. What matters is perception. Correcting that perception is now a central task — not just through policy, but through clear, steady, believable communication.

The new political trend in this digital society is simple: one term for one political force. If any political force is to continue into a second term, it must do so through an exceptional effort in Government. If not, the temptation is to lean on authority. That is why many democratic governments try to postpone elections.

As noted at the outset, the President’s recent speech leaned more towards targeting the Opposition than laying out a clear, convincing path for the people. At times, it sounded as though he was speaking to the faithful, not the country.

But, that is a narrow space — and it does not have to be a permanent address. There is still room to step beyond it. To speak to the doubters. The undecided. The quietly disappointed.

A second mandate is not a distant dream yet. But, it will not come through victory laps. It has to be earned through vision.

It may be too early to write that chapter. But, it is not too early for a reminder — one that has travelled across cultures and centuries. As the African proverb says: “The forest would be silent if no bird sang except the one that sang best.”

Democracy is like that forest. It needs many voices. The task of a leader is not to silence them, but to make the whole forest sing.

The writer is a researcher, elections analyst and civil society advocate specialising in democratic reform and electoral processes. He is the Executive Director of the Institute for Democratic Reforms and Electoral Studies

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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication