Sri Lanka’s recently leaked Defence Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) with India, quietly inked during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s visit, has triggered a tidal wave of concern. Far from a simple cooperation agreement, this MoU casts a long shadow over Sri Lanka’s sovereignty. It opens the door for India to wield broad influence over the island’s foreign and security policy, embed itself in critical industries, and potentially control sensitive technological and cyber infrastructures. Denying neutral dispute mechanisms and allowing legal ambiguities, it collectively chips away at Sri Lanka’s autonomy.
This alarming pact surfaced against a backdrop of theatrical symbolism. On the day of Modi’s departure, Sri Lanka’s President rebranded a military airstrip as an international airport just to accommodate a single helicopter flight. The route, significantly, passed over the mythic Ram-Sethu bridge, infusing political theatre with ancient symbolism. But what followed offstage was more troubling: a covert agreement cloaked in diplomatic euphemisms, repackaged as bilateral cooperation.
What is now emerging from the shadows is a document dressed in diplomacy but steeped in submission. Titled the “Memorandum of Understanding on Defence Cooperation,” it camouflages a strategic surrender under the language of mutual history. It rebrands Sri Lanka’s geopolitical subservience as diplomacy and frames betrayal in the scent of protocol. Clause by clause, it reads like a strategic trap rather than a partnership.
Take Article 2.2.8, which mentions “mutual cooperation” in ship design, UAVs, hydrography, and oceanography all areas key to maritime dominance. Meanwhile, Article 2.5.4 allows for the “supply or loan” of Indian defence materiel. It sounds innocent but is functionally an open-ended gateway for a long-term Indian military presence.
Seven Clauses, Seven Red Flags
- Clause 1.3: National Security Clause
- Text: “Neither Party shall allow the use of its territory for activities harmful to the national security of the other.”
- Risk: Leaves interpretation to India, potentially giving it veto power over Sri Lanka’s diplomatic and military actions, especially with rivals like China or Pakistan.
- Implication: Weakens Sri Lanka’s strategic independence.
- Clause 2.5.4: Supply or Loan of Equipment
- Text: “Supply or loan, on mutually agreed terms, equipment, platforms and defence materiel.”
- Risk: Encourages reliance on Indian tech, embedding Sri Lanka in opaque logistical networks.
- Implication: Undermines local procurement autonomy.
- Article 3: Defence Industry Cooperation
- Risk: Paves the way for unchecked Indian penetration into Sri Lanka’s defence economy.
- Implication: Loss of economic leverage and strategic control.
- Article 4: Collaborative Research
- Text: “Collaborative research and transfer of technology.”
- Risk: Without strong IPR safeguards, India may gain control of key innovations.
- Implication: Sensitive intellectual assets could be outsourced or expropriated.
- Article 7: Classified Information
- Text: “Will be used, transmitted, stored, handled and safeguarded…”
- Risk: Vague language may allow India access to classified Lankan defence data.
- Implication: Opens security loopholes without oversight.
- Article 10: Dispute Resolution
- Text: “Will not be referred to any national/international court.”
- Risk: Eliminates neutral legal recourse.
- Implication: India becomes both judge and litigant.
- Article 11: Jurisdiction
- Text: “Subject to the jurisdiction of the host country.”
- Risk: In practice, political pressure may override legal accountability.
- Implication: Justice may be elusive in sensitive cases involving Indian personnel.
Ram-Sethu as a Symbol of Eroding Sovereignty
History teaches us that partnerships with dominant neighbours often mask strategic annexations. The India-Maldives UTF agreement is a cautionary tale. Initially framed as logistical support, it allowed India to run a naval base, eventually triggering the #IndiaOut movement. Sri Lanka seems poised to follow the same script garlands today, control tomorrow.
The MoU is littered with euphemisms: “peacekeeping operations,” “capacity building,” and “expert exchanges”. Yet, embedded in these terms are deeply rooted mechanisms for Indian influence in Sri Lanka’s defence command, data networks, and infrastructure. Article 2.3.4 promises “mutual cooperation in defence infrastructure development” a phrase that could mask the construction of dual-use surveillance hubs.
Article 4.2.4’s focus on collaborative research hints at stealthy transfers of military knowledge. That the MoU even needs an Article 8 on intellectual property rights indicates serious concerns over appropriation. One must ask: will this Trojan Horse wear the tricolour?
More ominously, Article 2.5.3 introduces “Defence Cyber cooperation,” giving India potential access to Sri Lanka’s digital skeleton: firewalls, intelligence networks, and sensitive databases. In a digital era, this is not partnership this is engineered dependence.
And then there’s the showmanship: declaring a military airstrip as an international airport, just for a chopper. Modi’s symbolic flight over Ram-Sethu was more than ceremonial. It was metaphorical: Sri Lanka’s airspace, its dignity, its history all repurposed for foreign optics.
From Devanagari to Djibouti: The Warning Signs Are Everywhere
Those familiar with international diplomacy will recognize the alarming parallels. The MoU’s language echoes the US-Philippines Visiting Forces Agreement, which faced harsh backlash. Duterte famously denounced it as colonialism rebranded.
Sri Lanka’s case is worse. Unlike past agreements that faced public debate, this MoU bypassed parliamentary scrutiny, mirroring the secretive nature of 2019’s SOFA and MCC agreements with the U.S. What began in Washington now appears rewritten in Devanagari.
China’s example in Djibouti further illustrates the danger. What began as a small logistics hub evolved into a fully armed naval base. The legal wording in both deals is eerily similar. Djibouti’s autonomy is now studied in global forums as a cautionary tale. Is Sri Lanka next?
Worst of all, the MoU’s Article 10 effectively gags any future challenges by ruling out legal recourse. Should a future Lankan government want to dispute the agreement, it will find itself silenced, bound by the fine print.
Even Article 11, while claiming Indian personnel are subject to local laws, is toothless. Past precedents show how such legal clauses often protect foreign actors rather than enforce accountability. Think Okinawa.
Ultimately, this MoU, draped in the robes of “friendship” and “shared history,” is a soft annexation. Not with boots on the ground, but with boots under the table.
Sri Lanka must remember: sovereignty can be lost not only in war but in diplomacy. Sometimes, it is signed away, politely. If the nation does not wake up now, Ram-Sethu will not be a bridge of legend but a bridge to regret.
