A growing body of evidence suggests Sri Lanka’s higher education system is unintentionally exporting its most valuable resource: skilled human capital. A 2025 analysis by Ceylon Public Affairs, drawing on research from the University of Peradeniya, reveals that more than 50 percent of state university graduates are migrating permanently. In high-demand sectors such as medicine, engineering, and agriculture, that figure soars to between 80 and 90 percent.
The scale of the investment underscores the gravity of the issue. Sri Lanka allocates Rs. 87 billion annually to maintain its free university system, educating roughly 42,000 students each year. Fields of study range from arts and humanities to management, engineering, and medicine. Yet the system’s most academically accomplished graduates particularly those with science and technical degrees are departing at unprecedented levels.
Observers argue that the country’s free education framework is inadvertently subsidizing developed nations. While Sri Lanka struggles with a poverty rate exceeding 24 percent, its publicly funded graduates are bolstering health systems, infrastructure projects, and research institutions abroad. The imbalance raises difficult questions about sustainability and national return on investment.
Economic realities largely explain the migration wave. Following a severe financial crisis marked by sovereign default and compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic, domestic employment prospects have weakened. High inflation, stagnant wages, and limited professional advancement create strong incentives to seek stability overseas. Both public and private sector employers in Sri Lanka find it difficult to match international salary standards, particularly in globally competitive industries.
This pattern has broader structural implications. Experts warn that sustained outflows of highly educated workers can entrench what economists describe as the “middle-income trap,” where countries fail to transition to high-value innovation-driven economies. Without sufficient engineers, medical specialists, researchers, and academics, Sri Lanka’s capacity for technological progress and institutional strengthening may erode further.
The consequences are already evident in strained public services. Healthcare facilities report doctor shortages, and universities struggle to recruit and retain qualified lecturers. Remaining professionals face mounting workloads, increasing the risk of burnout and diminished service delivery.
In response, researchers have floated contentious policy solutions aimed at recovering public investment. One proposal calls for migrants to reimburse the government between USD 10,000 and 15,000 per graduate. Another suggests mandating remittances totaling USD 50,000. Yet implementation would likely prove complex, particularly given international mobility rights and enforcement limitations once individuals settle abroad.
As Sri Lanka navigates recovery and reform, policymakers confront a stark dilemma: how to preserve the principles of free education while ensuring that the nation retains enough of its brightest minds to drive domestic growth.