In Sri Lanka’s shifting political landscape, women have repeatedly emerged as the unexpected force that destabilizes dynasties and reshapes power. From Shirani Bandaranaike’s defiance to Chandrika Kumaratunga’s masterstroke in 2015, women have shaped the country’s fate in moments of crisis. Today, attention is turning to Harini Amarasuriya, the JVP’s most influential female figure whose Indo–American connections, academic clout, and activist past raise the question: will she remain loyal to the JVP or eventually revolt against it?
When Mahinda Rajapaksa consolidated power after the 2010 presidential and general elections, an astrologer warned that his downfall would one day come at the hands of a woman. Mahinda dismissed it with ease. Yet, within just a few years, the prophecy gained an uncanny resonance.
It began when Chief Justice Shirani Bandaranaike delivered a ruling against Basil Rajapaksa’s Divineguma project. The Rajapaksa family responded with fury, moving to oust her. Shirani did not flinch. Lawyers rallied around her, and opposition forces that had long been simmering found a cause to unite behind. Shirani’s impeachment battle drew international attention, and the Rajapaksas suddenly found themselves under global pressure.
At the same time, international voices added to Mahinda’s troubles. Michele J. Sison, Samantha Power, and Navaneethan Pillay pressed human rights charges that isolated the government on the world stage. Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga moved quietly in the background, orchestrating defections and throwing her weight behind Maithripala Sirisena as a common candidate. In 2015, that multi–layered assault toppled Mahinda’s seemingly unshakable rule.
But Chandrika’s dream of ruling from the shadows in the style of Sonia Gandhi fell flat. Maithripala sidelined her, and her influence evaporated. Though women had orchestrated Mahinda’s downfall, none claimed the presidency or prime ministership. Still, astrologers insisted a woman would eventually ascend.
That prediction began pointing toward a fresh face as the 2024 election drew near. Harini Amarasuriya, little known beyond academia and activism, started gaining national attention as the JVP’s most visible female voice.
Born in Galle to a family linked to H.W. Amarasuriya, Harini grew up in the shadow of political history. Her family lost their estate during Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s land reforms and relocated to Colombo. She attended Bishop’s College, earned scholarships to the US and India, and later pursued a doctorate at the University of Edinburgh. Her career included time with an American–funded NGO before she became a lecturer at the Open University.
It was here that Harini co-founded the Federation of University Teachers’ Unions (FUTA), campaigning for better salaries and greater investment in education. FUTA became a powerful platform for protest. Harini worked closely with JVP-linked academics, and while reluctant to formally join the party, she eventually became a central figure in its new front, the National People’s Force, designed to attract professionals.
The 2020 general election exposed the JVP’s limitations. Expecting 13 seats, the party secured only three, including a single national list slot. Against the odds, Harini was elevated over senior figures like Bimal Ratnayake and Professor Abeyratne recognition of her role in shaping the National People’s Force. Her presence in parliament was subdued at first, limited to lectures and commentary, leaving some party loyalists questioning her value.
But her stature soon shifted. At a media forum with international figures such as Harsha de Silva, Harini stood out, representing the JVP on a global stage. When the party turned its opposition toward Ranil Wickremesinghe, Harini’s voice gained traction among the upper middle class and professionals. She launched the women’s initiative We Are Women Together, giving the JVP a modern, inclusive appeal.
Even within the JVP, her influence has been recognized. “Harini is an asset to us, just like Anura,” Bimal Ratnayake recently admitted. Yet beneath the praise lies tension. Bimal had ambitions of his own, but after losing his national list seat in 2020 and failing in 2024, Harini has increasingly filled the vacuum. Today, ministers have begun publicly attacking her for her remarks, echoing the way Basil Rajapaksa once targeted Maithripala Sirisena attacks that eventually fractured Mahinda’s regime.
The question now is whether Harini will withstand such pressures or carve her own path. Her international connections, academic profile, and activist credentials give her leverage that few in the JVP can match. Alienating her could risk backlash not only at home but abroad.
History has shown that women in Sri Lanka’s politics, though underestimated, have reshaped events in unexpected ways. Whether Harini remains the JVP’s loyal standard-bearer or one day revolts against it could decide not just her future, but the future of the movement itself.
