It is a long journey from the house near the signal post at Thambuththegama Railway Station in Anuradhapura to the President’s House at Janadhipathi Mawatha, in the heart of Colombo.
In the lead-up to the presidential election, at one particular interview, then-presidential candidate Anura Kumara Dissanayake related how his humble home next to the railway line at Thambuththegama had no designated address but would receive letters addressed to the ‘house near the signal post at the Thambuththegama Railway Station.’ If anything, that poignant recollection brings home the enormity of the transformation the Sri Lankan polity has undergone with the elevation of Dissanayake to the presidency, where he has spent exactly one hundred days as of today.
To say that Dissanayake has come up the hard way is an understatement. Unlike any of his eight predecessors, he had to go underground during the crackdown on the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) by the Ranasinghe Premadasa government in the late 1980s to save his life. Thirty-five years later, Dissanayake defeated Ranasinghe Premadasa’s son Sajith at the presidential election to become Executive President, Head of State, Head of Government, and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces.
Was Dissanayake simply lucky, being at the right place at the right time when discontent over more established political parties spilled over during the economic crisis under Gotabaya Rajapaksa, or was there more to it than that? Hindsight suggests the latter.
Arguably, the turning point was the formation of the Jathika Jana Balavegaya (JJB), better known by its English acronym, the NPP (National Peoples’ Power), in July 2019, four months prior to the presidential election that year. Someone in the JVP hierarchy, quite possibly Dissanayake himself, though we do not know this for certain, realised that the JVP, with its traditional leftist image, carrying photos of Marx and Lenin at every May Day procession, will not appeal to the average Sri Lankan voter. Besides, there was the historical baggage that the JVP was burdened with: the insurrections it staged in 1971 and 1987-89, both of which cost the lives of thousands of youths. Older voters who remember that carnage almost instinctively shied away from the JVP.
Thus was born the NPP. The strategy was obvious: to make this new entity, though still dominated by the ‘cadre’ of the JVP, more appealing to the public by gathering various organisations to support it, thereby shedding the ‘hardcore’ image of the JVP. Fittingly, its colour was not red, the universal colour of socialists, but the softer pink. If awards are given for political marketing, whoever devised this approach deserves one.
Fine tuning
Into this newly engineered milieu entered Dissanayake. He was already the leader of the JVP, having taken over the party reins after Somawansa Amerasinghe’s retirement in 2014. Many of the Old Guard were eased out of the party hierarchy, save for a faithful few such as Tilvin Silva and Nihal Galappathy. Dissanayake contested the 2019 presidential election and secured three percent of the vote and was ridiculed for that. If anything, that three percent would have motivated the NPP think-tanks to fine-tune their strategy. The 2022 uprising, the ‘aragalaya’ as everyone called it, gave them the opening they needed. Coming events cast their shadows: when Sajith Premadasa visited the ‘aragalaya’ at Galle Face, he was jeered, threatened, and chased away; Dissanayake was not. That was to become an eerie premonition of the outcome of the presidential election.
Dissanayake’s rise to power was based on the ‘unuth ekai, munuth ekai’ train of thought, that the so-called ‘established’ parties are all the same, which most voters came to conclude by late 2024. That some of them still had reservations about the role of the JVP in the NPP was evident because he polled only 42 percent of the vote. Among that 42 percent was a significant proportion who were voting for Dissanayake not because they believed he was the ideal choice as president but because they couldn’t bring themselves to vote for any of the other candidates. In an interview, after he became president, Dissanayake himself was candid enough to admit that he expected to die as a revolutionary who fought for the cause that he believed in but not as someone who realised the dream of his party ever gaining power.
In power and place, Dissanayake has set about the task of dismantling the grandeur and the ceremonial trappings that surrounded his office. His swearing-in lasted less than thirty minutes. He scrapped the gun salutes and ‘jayamangala gatha’ for the opening of Parliament. He travels not in a motorcade but with one or two backup vehicles. All this provides devotees of the NPP with reasons to sing his praises on social media and say that ‘system change’ is in full swing, but governing a country is much more than just the optics.
Crucially, Dissanayake’s first steps were in the right direction. His choice of Harini Amarasuriya as prime minister when he could have opted for Vijitha Herath is a case in point. He was preferring a Colombo-based lady—educated at Bishops College and Delhi and Edinburgh University—who epitomised the upper middle class and was from the NPP instead of a homegrown former minister who had been with the JVP for decades. Again, the signal was that this was not just the ‘old JVP’.
Record mandate
In contrast to campaign rhetoric, Dissanayake also chose not to rock the boat—or, in this case, the Ship of State—too much, or not at all. The agreement with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) wasn’t torn up, nor was its Debt Sustainability Analysis (DSA) renegotiated. Nandalal Weerasinghe and Mahinda Siriwardena were retained as Central Bank Governor and Treasury Secretary, respectively.
These decisions, taken early on before the general election, paid dividends. The NPP secured a record mandate with nine seats in excess of a two-thirds majority. Its votes grew from 5.7 million to 6.8 million in seven weeks. Minutes after swearing in his twenty-one ministers, Dissanayake told them, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” What he didn’t tell them, at least not in so many words, is that with great power comes great responsibility.
How has President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and his government exercised that responsibility? If the President has been treading cautiously, the same cannot be said of some of his colleagues. That led to what could be called the first real setback of his presidency, the controversy over former Speaker Ashoka Ranwala’s qualifications.
The Ranwala saga will be a mere footnote in Sri Lanka’s parliamentary history, but it is how the issue was handled that raised eyebrows. Was the NPP unaware of the credentials of its own members? Why was the matter allowed to dominate headlines for a dozen days when it could have been nipped in the bud? Why did it require the President himself to intervene for a resignation to materialise? The government did emerge with its reputation intact because Ranwala resigned, but it managed to do so only just in the nick of time and by throwing some diversionary mud across the floor of the House at the educational qualifications of opposition MPs.
There is also a growing feeling that, in the absence of an effective opposition, the NPP is becoming its own opposition. That is not only because of what NPP speakers said during the election campaigns but also because of what they are saying now.
When Cabinet Spokesman Nalinda Jayatissa was grilled about Ranwala, his response was that ‘we didn’t consider it above the knees’. Kalutara District parliamentarian Nilanthi Kottahachchi, who shot to fame saying she would recover stolen funds from Uganda and then retracted those comments, now says that the people have a right to call a lie a truth and vice versa, so that maybe what she was doing all along.
Trade Minister Wasantha Samarasinghe seems to believe that the Mafia is headquartered in Sri Lanka because he sees a ‘rice mafia’ when rice prices rise and a ‘coconut mafia’ when coconut prices increase. Justice Minister Harshana Nanayakkara makes a beeline to the Criminal Investigations Department to complain about someone adding a ‘Dr.’ title to him on the Parliament website and waxes eloquent about ‘fleas remaining though the dog has left,’ only to find that the Office of the Leader of the House has also referred to him as ‘Dr.’!
Even Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya appeared to shoot the messenger when she said the ‘Republic of China’ instead of ‘People’s Republic of China’ and then accused the media of trying to create a rift between Sri Lanka and China. Had the Premier offered an unqualified ‘mea culpa’ for the gaffe she made, it would have been forgotten by now. Instead, it is still being talked of because of her response. Taken together with Minister Nanayakkara’s refusal to grant a media interview, saying he needed ‘approval’ from the party hierarchy, questions are being raised about the government’s commitment to sincerity and transparency in everything that they do.
This list can go on. This is probably what former President Ranil Wickremesinghe alluded to when he said that ‘experience’ was required to govern. Right at this time, the 100-day mark of the Dissanayake presidency, the general public is willing to forgive and forget these lapses for two reasons. Firstly, they realise that the government is on a steep learning curve. Secondly, because they still retain faith in Dissanayake’s integrity; they believe that when tough decisions need to be made, he will do what is right, regardless, as he did with Ranwala.
However, President Dissanayake would do well to remember that at least two of his predecessors, Maithripala Sirisena and Gotabaya Rajapaksa, also enjoyed similar cult-like followings in the early stages of their presidencies, only to end up as unmitigated disasters. The time will come, slowly but surely, when people will expect to see the results that Dissanayake promised when he was campaigning—and they will hold him to account.
At least on several issues, it can be said that he is on the right track. Economically, he has not dared to change course after receiving advice that this would be disastrous. The results are slowly emerging: the country’s credit rating was upgraded recently, even though it is still far from what is desirable.
Dissanayake’s visit to India also suggested that he is a fast learner. There was no anti-Indian sabre-rattling prior to the trip, despite the JVP’s past concerns about ‘Indian expansionism’. If the visit was a carefully choreographed drama, Dissanayake didn’t put a foot wrong, even if he walked too briskly at the guard of honour. Such was the rapport between Delhi and its newfound friend in Colombo that it reportedly even agreed not to mention the 13th Amendment!
Then, the ‘clean’ government that the NPP promised hasn’t been breached, at least for now. All the ridiculing and criticism about the NPP government and the actions of its stalwarts have been directed at policy issues and inefficiency, not corruption. If Dissanayake can maintain that track record with a tight leash on his ministers and MPs, that will be a first in recent Lankan political history.
Two major issues
Against all these pluses, there are two major issues that are lingering in the background that were also the two main slogans of the NPP during their campaigns: ‘catching thieves’ and ‘punishing offenders’ (bringing to justice those responsible for financial fraud and major crimes) and abolishing the executive presidency.
The people understand and appreciate that legal action against wrongdoers cannot be done through instant justice from a kangaroo court. They are waiting patiently and have been told that some cases have been prioritised. There will, however, come a time when that patience will run out as it did with the ‘yahapalanaya’ regime. That history must not be repeated.
Even after assuming duties as executive president, Dissanayake, when asked about the executive presidency, said that he still hoped to be the last executive president because a new Constitution adopted by the NPP government would do away with that office. Even for those who do not doubt his sincerity, there is a sense of déjà vu about that statement. Besides, constitutional reform hasn’t been in the headlines of late. Dissanayake must know that J.R. Jayewardene introduced his new Constitution in September 1978, only a year and two months after assuming office in July 1977. The moral of the story, as per the pithy Sinhala saying, is that, even if you are going to hell, go early.
If Dissanayake stays the course economically and runs a corruption-free government, when the time of reckoning comes, be it in five years or at whatever other timeframe he chooses, it is likely that he will be judged on the issue of punishing offenders and abolishing the executive presidency. That will be the yardstick for the possible re-election of an NPP government.
With all other major political parties seemingly in disarray, leaderless, or led by leaders handicapped by various issues, Dissanayake and the NPP must understand the changing electoral dynamics of the country. There are no longer ‘hardcore’ party supporters. For the NPP to record the kind of victory it did on November 14, the vast majority of those who voted for the ‘Pohottuwa’ in 2019 must have voted for the ‘Maalimaawa’ in 2024. In a country where there are no longer ‘kepuwath kola paata’ or ‘kepuwath nil paata’ voters, there certainly will not be ‘kepuwath rosa paata’ voters. If Dissanayake and his government disappoint, the swing against it will be as massive and as swift as it was towards it.
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has completed 100 days of his presidency. He has 1725 days left. His case is still being heard. It is too early for judgment. However, the boy from Thambuththegama, as Chandrika Kumaratunga called him, which she said was an endearing term and was not intended to be derogatory, must also remember that the court of public opinion is always in session.
