By Roger Srivasan
For decades, Sri Lanka remained trapped in a wearying cycle of political disappointment. Governments rose and fell, slogans changed, alliances fractured and re-emerged, yet the underlying culture of governance appeared stubbornly unchanged. The nation watched as politicians accumulated extraordinary wealth, entrenched dynasties consolidated power, and public office increasingly became associated not with service, but with privilege, patronage, and self-preservation.
The electorate gradually became exhausted — not merely economically, but morally. Corruption was no longer perceived as an occasional aberration within the political system; to many citizens, it had become woven into the very fabric of governance itself. Public confidence eroded as successive administrations appeared unable, or unwilling, to sever the nexus between political patronage, criminality, and institutional decay.
The people had long been compelled to oscillate between rival political establishments that differed in rhetoric yet resembled one another in appetite. Elections increasingly felt less like a hopeful exercise in democratic renewal and more like a grim ritual in which the public was forced to choose between competing factions of the same exhausted political culture. Politicians who thundered against corruption while in opposition frequently rediscovered the comforts of political expedience once power beckoned from the treasury benches. Crossovers ceased to be acts of conscience and became instruments of survival — a means of preserving privilege, influence, ministerial luxury, and access to the machinery of enrichment.
Compounding this disillusionment was the perception that sections of the political establishment had become intertwined with deeply troubling forces operating beneath the surface of public life. Drug barons, criminal syndicates, corrupt fixers, and racial demagogues appeared to flourish under political patronage, insulated from accountability by influence and proximity to power. The underworld and sections of the political class seemed, at times, to operate in sinister symbiosis, blurring the distinction between governance and impunity.
It was against this backdrop of public exhaustion and moral fatigue that the National People’s Power (NPP) emerged as a formidable political force. Its rise was not a political accident, nor merely a temporary electoral trend. Rather, it represented a profound repudiation of the old order by a population that had grown deeply disillusioned with decades of venality, corruption, and political duplicity.
The scale of the NPP’s electoral ascent was nothing short of extraordinary. Expanding its parliamentary representation from a mere three seats to a staggering 159, the movement engineered one of the most dramatic political upheavals in Sri Lanka’s democratic history. It was a political earthquake that reflected not only anger toward the old guard, but also a desperate yearning for accountability, integrity, and national renewal.
Perhaps most significantly, the NPP succeeded in transcending many of the entrenched racial and communal divisions that had long been exploited within Sri Lankan politics. For decades, sections of the political class openly pandered to ethnic anxieties and communal fears as a means of consolidating electoral support. Yet the NPP’s appeal extended beyond narrow communal lines, attracting citizens weary of divisive politics and eager for a more civic-minded national vision.
The government has also projected itself as uncompromising in its campaign against the twin scourges of systemic corruption and narcotics — two maladies many Sri Lankans believed had metastasised under previous administrations. The renewed emphasis on accountability, law enforcement, and institutional reform has generated cautious optimism among sections of the public who had long viewed the powerful as untouchable and beyond the reach of justice.
Yet moral legitimacy and electoral triumph alone cannot sustain governance indefinitely. The modern state demands far more than idealism and public goodwill. It requires technocrats, strategists, economists, scientists, engineers, administrators, diplomats, and specialists capable of navigating the immense complexities of contemporary governance.
While the NPP undoubtedly possesses a commendable pool of educated professionals, the government risks administrative fatigue if it continues to rely upon a relatively narrow internal pool for key appointments. A state cannot be effectively managed through political loyalty alone. Competence, expertise, and institutional experience remain indispensable pillars of successful governance.
It is here that the government must demonstrate both pragmatism and intellectual confidence.
Encouragingly, there are already signs of such maturity emerging. The appointment of Eran Wickramaratne to spearhead the cricket reform task force was widely welcomed as a constructive and sensible decision. Long regarded as a politician of utmost probity, his inclusion suggested a willingness — however tentative — to look beyond rigid partisan boundaries in pursuit of competence and credibility.
That spirit should be expanded further.
Sri Lanka possesses a vast reservoir of talent extending well beyond formal party structures. Across the country — and indeed throughout the global Sri Lankan diaspora — there exist highly accomplished professionals, technocrats, academics, scientists, legal experts, engineers, economists, and internationally experienced administrators who could contribute meaningfully to national renewal if given the opportunity.
This is especially true in the sphere of foreign affairs.
In an increasingly interconnected world, diplomacy can no longer be treated as ceremonial pageantry or political patronage. Modern diplomacy is strategic statecraft. Ambassadors today must do far more than attend receptions and exchange formalities. They must negotiate, persuade, articulate policy with clarity, cultivate strategic relationships, and defend national interests in highly sophisticated international environments.
A diplomat, therefore, is not merely a representative of a state, but a skilled negotiator entrusted with advancing national interests through tact, strategic judgment, cultural intelligence, and persuasive communication.
For this reason, Sri Lanka would be wise to cast its net far wider when selecting diplomatic representatives. Particularly in major international capitals, linguistic precision, diplomatic etiquette, cultural fluency, and international exposure are not ornamental luxuries — they are strategic necessities. Familiarity with global political culture, institutional behaviour, and the subtleties of international communication can significantly strengthen a nation’s standing abroad.
Sri Lanka already possesses many capable officials within its existing institutions. Yet there is equal wisdom in drawing upon the wider reservoir of Sri Lankan talent dispersed across the world — individuals of proven calibre who possess strong communication skills, international experience, intellectual sophistication, and the confidence to engage credibly on the global stage.
A government should not have to look over its shoulder anxiously when entrusting sensitive diplomatic assignments abroad; it should possess complete confidence that its representatives can articulate national interests with competence, composure, and refinement.
The NPP has already achieved what many once considered impossible: it transformed itself from a marginal political force into a commanding national movement propelled by public frustration with corruption and political decadence. Yet the true test of governance begins after electoral victory. History repeatedly demonstrates that moral momentum alone is insufficient unless accompanied by administrative competence, strategic pragmatism, and the wisdom to embrace talent wherever it may reside.
Sri Lanka now stands at a pivotal juncture. The people have delivered a historic mandate born not merely of hope, but of exhaustion — exhaustion with corruption, impunity, criminal patronage, and decades of political betrayal. Whether this moment becomes a genuine national reawakening or merely another chapter in the country’s cyclical political disappointments will depend upon the government’s ability to broaden its horizons, strengthen its institutions, and match integrity with competence.
For the first time in many years, the country appears to believe that meaningful change may still be possible. That belief must now be justified.
