As the Sri Lankan Rupee continued to depreciate against the US Dollar as of last Friday (12), public concern about the state of the economy is once again beginning to intensify. The timing could hardly be more consequential as Sri Lanka is expected to resume servicing portions of its restructured external debt obligations from next year and every depreciation of the rupee increases the local currency cost of meeting those commitments. For ordinary citizens, a weaker currency eventually translates into higher costs of living, more expensive imports, pressure on businesses, and renewed uncertainty about economic stability.
The economic conversation should therefore be dominating the national agenda. Yet, in recent weeks, public attention has increasingly shifted elsewhere. The arrest and detention of former Director of the State Intelligence Service Major General Suresh Sallay has generated a political and media storm that has effectively displaced discussion about the economy, IMF performance targets, fiscal vulnerabilities, and the looming threat posed by adverse climatic conditions linked to El Niño.
Whether by coincidence or design, the national conversation has moved from concerns about debt, inflation, foreign exchange pressures, and economic management to the endlessly contentious issue of the 2019 Easter Sunday attacks. The tragedy remains one of the darkest chapters in Sri Lanka’s history. Seven years later, however, the country remains divided not over the horror of what occurred but over competing explanations of why it occurred and who ultimately bears responsibility.
On one side stands the position accepted by several international investigative agencies. The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) identified extremist preacher Zahran Hashim as the operational mastermind behind the attacks. Foreign investigations and intelligence assessments consistently pointed to Islamist extremism inspired by ISIS ideology as the primary driving force behind the bombings.
On the other side is a narrative that has gained increasing prominence within Sri Lanka. Supported by elements within the current administration and sections of the Catholic Church, this interpretation argues that the attacks may have served a broader political objective: creating a climate of fear and insecurity that contributed to the election of Gotabaya Rajapaksa later that year. While this theory has generated enormous public interest, it also raises difficult questions that remain unanswered.
The most obvious question is one that has become increasingly difficult to dismiss. If the ultimate objective of the attacks was to facilitate Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s rise to power, why would Islamist extremists choose to sacrifice their lives in order to help elevate a political figure widely perceived by many Muslims as a Sinhala-Buddhist nationalist?
The question becomes even more complicated when viewed against the identities of some of those directly involved in the attacks. The Ibrahim family paid an extraordinary price in the operation. Two sons of businessman Mohamed Ibrahim participated in the bombings and died during the attacks. Whatever conclusions one reaches about their motivations, it is difficult to reconcile such actions with the proposition that their primary objective was to engineer the election of a Sinhala-Buddhist nationalist.
This, however, does not automatically invalidate the political conspiracy theory. But it does highlight significant gaps that require convincing answers. The central issue is that after seven years, the country appears to be trapped between competing narratives rather than moving closer to definitive conclusions. What remains indisputable is that there was a catastrophic failure of prevention.
Evidence presented before multiple inquiries established that Indian intelligence agencies had provided highly specific warnings before the attacks. Reports indicate that these warnings contained information regarding the possibility of an attack, likely targets, suspected perpetrators, areas of operation, and other identifying details – enough to prevent what ultimately took place. The question that continues to haunt the nation is not whether warnings existed, but why those warnings failed to trigger effective action.
Had the relevant authorities acted decisively on local intelligence, and later specific foreign agency warnings, and arrested Zahran Hashim and his accomplices before 21 April 2019, the precious lives of those who perished may have been saved. More importantly, many of the controversies that continue to divide the country today would never have arisen.
Besides, had the Police used the intelligence provided over many days and weeks, and arrested Zahran while still alive, investigators could have questioned the supposed architect of the attacks. He/she could have clarified who assisted, who financed, who protected, and whether Sallay or any political actors were involved. Instead, the country is left attempting to reconstruct events through fragments of testimony, competing claims, and endless speculation. Therefore, what should first be investigated is why the Police failed to act despite multiple triggers spread over a period of time.
This is where another painful contradiction emerges. The current investigation has come under scrutiny because several senior officials now directing the ‘fresh’ investigations were themselves criticised by previous investigations regarding failures that preceded the attacks.
In submissions before the Court of Appeal, counsel for Sallay argued that senior Police officers who had been identified by previous inquiries as having failed to prevent the attacks were in fact the ones now leading investigations against him. The argument is not necessarily that they are guilty of wrongdoing. Rather, it is that the appearance of impartiality becomes difficult to sustain when investigators are themselves connected to events that remain under public scrutiny. After all, justice must not only be done; it must also be seen to be done. That principle is fundamental to public confidence in any investigation. When individuals previously criticised for negligence are perceived to be directing inquiries into others, questions regarding credibility become inevitable.
These concerns are amplified by additional allegations that continue to circulate in the public domain. Questions have been raised about why certain recommendations of commissions of inquiry were not pursued. Questions have also been raised about the handling of investigations involving individuals who were allegedly connected to extremist networks. Whether these allegations ultimately prove true or false is a matter for competent authorities and courts to determine. What cannot be denied is that the unresolved nature of these issues continues to erode public confidence.
The detention of Sallay has added another layer of controversy. His lawyers argue that numerous previous investigations – including the Presidential Commission of Inquiry, parliamentary inquiries, and several independent committees – failed to find evidence linking him to the attacks. They further argue that the principal allegations against him rely heavily on claims made by one Azad Maulana, whose assertions featured prominently in a controversial television documentary.
Sallay has denied all allegations. He maintains that he was serving in Malaysia during the period when some alleged meetings supposedly took place and was attending the National Defence College in New Delhi at the time of the Easter Sunday attacks themselves. These claims will ultimately have to be tested through evidence, not media narratives.
Courts determine guilt through evidence subjected to scrutiny and cross-examination. They do not determine guilt through documentaries, political speeches, social media campaigns, or public emotion. If there is credible evidence against Sallay, it should be presented in court and examined transparently. If key witnesses exist, they too should be subjected to judicial scrutiny. Anything less risks creating the perception that detention has become a substitute for proof.
The irony is that what may have begun as an attempt to strengthen the Easter Sunday investigation could ultimately undermine confidence in it and even boomerang on the regime. Why, because every new contradiction fuels public scepticism and every unresolved inconsistency strengthens the belief that the country is still searching for answers in the wrong places.
Meanwhile, the economic challenges facing Sri Lanka continue to accumulate: the rupee remains under pressure, economic growth remains vulnerable, and debt obligations are approaching while IMF programme targets require sustained discipline. Climate experts are warning of potentially serious disruptions associated with changing weather patterns and El Niño conditions. These are not abstract concerns; they affect livelihoods, food security, public finances, and the future trajectory of the country’s recovery.
Yet these issues receive only fleeting attention while the nation becomes consumed by another cycle of Easter Sunday-related controversy. None of this means the Easter Sunday attacks should be forgotten. On the contrary, the victims deserve truth, accountability, and justice. But justice requires consistency, transparency, and evidence. It requires answers that withstand scrutiny rather than abstract narratives that merely satisfy political constituencies.
Seven years after the attacks, the country is still confronted by the same fundamental question: are we pursuing truth wherever it leads, or are we selectively pursuing facts that fit predetermined conclusions? Until that question is answered convincingly, the Easter Sunday investigation will continue generating more controversy than closure. And as the debate grows increasingly politicised, it risks becoming not only a distraction from Sri Lanka’s pressing economic challenges but also a source of further division in a nation that desperately needs clarity, confidence, and trust in its institutions.