A sharp look at how political narratives in Sri Lanka manufacture reputations, dismantle credibility, and reshape public perception in a relentless power game.
‘A man cannot win elections… But he is not a thief.’
This was the line that followed Ranil when he stepped into the role of Prime Minister in 2013, a phrase that quietly shaped public perception at a time when political branding mattered more than political truth.
‘Ranil was called a traitor. He was called a tiger. No one called him a thief. Even his strongest critics accepted that…’
This was the tone echoed by international political observers when Ranil assumed office again in 2015, reinforcing an image that was already deeply rooted in the public mind.
‘Mr. Clean…’
That was the label attached to Ranil through narratives promoted by media closely aligned with his political camp, and for a long time, that image remained largely unchallenged in the national discourse.
Ranil eventually outmaneuvered the Rajapaksa political machine not through direct electoral dominance, but by backing Maithripala Sirisena as the common candidate, effectively weaponizing perception. The Rajapaksas were branded as corrupt, while Ranil stood as the face of integrity.
The Rajapaksas are thieves. Ranil is Mr. Clean.
That was the belief many voters carried into the 2015 election.
But politics rarely allows labels to remain untouched. The Rajapaksas understood that once the word thief is attached to a political figure, removing it becomes nearly impossible. Their strategy shifted. Instead of defending themselves, they looked for ways to dismantle Ranil’s clean image.
How do you attack a man whose identity is built on being uncorrupted?
That question lingered until opportunity presented itself through the Central Bank bond controversy.
The Rajapaksas seized that moment. The narrative began to change. Through parliamentary processes, public discourse, and institutional mechanisms, Ranil’s image was systematically challenged. The same man who was once shielded by a reputation of integrity found himself under scrutiny.
When allegations surfaced linking Ranil to the Central Bank issue, the very civil society groups and cultural voices that helped bring the Maithri Ranil administration to power fell into an uneasy silence.
Maithripala Sirisena, under mounting pressure, asked Ranil to respond. Ranil chose to stand by Arjuna Mahendran, a close associate whom he had appointed as Central Bank Governor. Loyalty, in that moment, took precedence over political risk.
‘I will solve this problem…’
That was the response, but the issue only deepened. Legal defenses were mounted, committees were formed, and the crisis began to take on a life of its own. Maithripala eventually distanced himself, appointing a presidential commission to investigate the bond scandal.
Public warnings followed. Parliamentary findings labeled the bond issue as a major financial irregularity. Pressure mounted within the government itself. Calls emerged to remove Ranil and appoint a new Prime Minister.
Within months, the narrative had flipped.
The government that came promising to catch thieves was now accused of harboring them.
By mid 2015, the political tide had shifted dramatically. Ranil, once seen as Mr. Clean, was now portrayed as deeply compromised in the eyes of many voters.
This was not unfamiliar territory for the Rajapaksas. It was a strategy they had mastered. However, the dynamics were different this time. Without the full backing of Maithripala Sirisena, the opposition forces could not fully capitalize on the situation. Still, the damage was done.
By the time of the 2018 local government elections, the fallout from the Central Bank controversy had already reshaped public opinion. Electoral defeat followed, reflecting a deeper erosion of trust.
Years later, similar patterns began to emerge in a different political context.
Opposition leader Sajith Premadasa attempted to challenge corruption narratives within the ruling structure, focusing on issues such as the coal procurement controversy. His efforts, however, were initially dismissed by both the government and segments of the opposition.
The government wins by bringing no confidence motions…
That was the argument used to undermine Sajith’s strategy. Even within opposition circles, his approach was ridiculed.
Sajith is crazy. He is giving the government a stage to display its strength in Parliament.
That was the prevailing criticism at the time.
Yet Sajith persisted. When the no confidence motion against a minister was finally brought forward, it triggered a chain reaction. Public attention intensified. Political pressure grew. Eventually, accountability mechanisms were forced into motion.
The same voices that once dismissed the move began to acknowledge its impact. The minister in question was removed. Legal consequences followed.
Had Sajith listened to his critics, that outcome may never have materialized.
Even when Sajith supported appointments that were politically sensitive, such as backing a senior official for the role of Auditor General, he faced accusations of political compromise. However, his calculation was rooted in institutional credibility rather than short term optics.
Over time, those decisions proved to be grounded in a longer view of governance.
Today, a familiar pattern is once again visible. Just as Ranil once stood by Arjuna Mahendran, current leadership structures are seen defending controversial figures within their own ranks. Committees are formed. Investigations are announced. But the underlying political instinct remains the same, protect the system, protect allies.
Civil society reactions mirror past cycles as well. Those who once spoke loudly now hesitate. Those who once challenged power now navigate it carefully.
Sajith Premadasa has once again inserted himself into this cycle, raising questions that others avoid. Whether his efforts will reshape public perception in the long run remains to be seen, but history suggests that persistence in exposing uncomfortable truths can alter political trajectories.
This is the reality of Sri Lankan politics.
Reputations are not built on facts alone. They are constructed, contested, and often destroyed through narrative.
Today’s hero can become tomorrow’s villain.
And sometimes, in the eyes of the public, everyone becomes a thief until politics decides otherwise.
