A Concerned Citizen
A hard hitting reflection on how populism, patronage, and power politics slowly hollowed out Sri Lanka’s independence, turning democratic promise into political theatre and public distrust.
Ceylon is a beautiful, but unhappy land – D. N. Pritt
Independence is never a moment locked in history. It is a continuum measured not by ceremony but by conduct. It is not simply a flag lifted at dawn or a constitution read inside a newly formed legislature. Independence is a promise, fragile and unfinished, dependent on the moral stewardship of those entrusted to guard it. When Ceylon stepped into self-rule on 4 February 1948, it did so with the quiet dignity of a nation that had endured centuries of colonial subjugation while preserving a cultural soul. Yet the decades that followed revealed a painful lesson: political sovereignty, once attained, is not immune to erosion. Sri Lanka’s political degradation is not merely a chronicle of missteps. It is a meditation on the vulnerability of democratic institutions when confronted by majoritarian impulses, ethnic anxiety, the temptation of impunity, and the seductions of power.
Ceylon’s independence was not born of violent revolution. Unlike many contemporaries in Asia and Africa, Ceylon’s path was constitutional evolution, incremental, negotiated, and shaped by a political elite that sought accommodation rather than confrontation. European colonial intrusion began with the Portuguese in the sixteenth century, passed to the Dutch, and finally to the British, who consolidated control in 1796. British rule introduced plantation capitalism, centralized administration, and Western education. These forces later produced a Westernized political class and deep socioeconomic fissures that would persist beyond independence. By the early twentieth century, a local intelligentsia of lawyers, civil servants, and professionals began articulating demands for representation and self-government. The Donoughmore Constitution of 1931 introduced universal adult franchise, a radical experiment for a colony, yet it also seeded ethnic tension by empowering the Sinhalese majority in unprecedented ways. What began as democratic expansion also became a structural imbalance, shaping political competition for decades to come.
The Birth of Independent Ceylon
The decisive step arrived with the Soulbury Commission, whose recommendations formed the basis of the 1947 Constitution. This constitution established a bicameral legislature with a popularly elected House of Representatives and a partly nominated Senate, and it vested executive authority in a cabinet led by a prime minister. On 4 February 1948, Ceylon became a dominion within the British Commonwealth, with D. S. Senanayake as its first Prime Minister. The transition was ceremonially marked by the opening of the first parliament at Independence Square, attended by Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester. Independence was achieved not through insurrection but through negotiation, a testament to the political maturity of early leaders and a signal of elite-driven governance that would shape the postcolonial state.
The new nation inherited more than institutions. It inherited habits. The administrative machine remained largely intact, and the mindset of rule often survived the transfer of power. Ceylon’s early state carried forward colonial administrative traditions, centralized authority, and a political culture that viewed the public as subjects to be managed rather than partners in governance. Independence brought national symbols and constitutional formality, but it did not automatically deliver equal citizenship, institutional courage, or inclusive nation-building. The early promise was real, yet it was fragile, because it depended on restraint, integrity, and a willingness to build democratic norms deeper than political convenience.
Problems on the Horizon
The early years of independent Ceylon were marked by optimism. The country possessed a functioning civil service, a robust agricultural economy, and a literate population. Yet beneath this veneer lay unresolved tensions, ethnic, linguistic, and class-based, that would soon erupt. The most consequential political development after independence was the rise of Sinhala-Buddhist nationalism. While the Soulbury Constitution contained minority safeguards, the calculus of electoral democracy rewarded majoritarian appeals. The Sinhala Only Act of 1956 became a watershed moment, alienating the Tamil minority and setting the stage for decades of polarization. The framers of the Soulbury Constitution assumed the political class would uphold liberal democratic norms, but constitutional protections proved insufficient against populist nationalism.
The abolition of the Senate in 1971 removed a moderating institutional check. Subsequent constitutions in 1972 and 1978 centralized power further, culminating in an executive presidency with sweeping authority. The promise of 1948, self-rule grounded in pluralism and constitutionalism, was gradually supplanted by a politics of exclusion. The democratic system continued to hold elections, yet the meaning of democracy narrowed. When power became the prize, electoral success increasingly justified majoritarian rhetoric, patronage distribution, and the weakening of checks and balances. In such a system, democratic institutions can survive in appearance while eroding in substance.
The marginalization of Tamil communities, combined with state-sponsored colonization schemes and discriminatory policies in education and employment, fueled the rise of Tamil militancy. The civil war that erupted in 1983 was not an accident of history. It was the culmination of decades of political failure. The war’s brutality, perpetrated by both the state and the LTTE, left deep scars on the national psyche. It also militarized governance, normalized emergency rule, and entrenched a culture of impunity. When the war ended in 2009, many hoped reconciliation would finally become national policy rather than international vocabulary. Instead, the post-war period saw the consolidation of authoritarian tendencies. Militarization seeped into civilian life, dissent faced pressure, and independent institutions weakened. The promise of peace was squandered by triumphalism and the temptation to equate victory with legitimacy.
Sri Lanka’s present political malaise is not sudden. It is cumulative, the result of decades of institutional decay, economic mismanagement, and the erosion of democratic norms. The economic collapse of 2022, marked by fuel shortages, inflation, and sovereign default, was symptomatic of deeper structural issues: unsustainable debt, overreliance on imports, policy short-termism, and a political culture addicted to postponing consequences. The crisis triggered mass protests, reflecting widespread disillusionment with political leadership and governance failures. The repeated manipulation of the constitution through amendments that alternately expanded and curtailed presidential powers created volatility rather than stability. Institutions meant to safeguard democracy, including the judiciary and independent commissions, were repeatedly undermined. Far from healing the wounds of civil war, post-war politics often exploited ethnic and religious divisions for electoral gain, deepening mistrust and weakening national cohesion.
An Analysis
Perhaps the most profound degradation lies in political culture itself. Patronage networks dominate governance. Corruption is endemic. Public trust in institutions has eroded. Political dynasties and personality politics often overshadow meritocratic leadership. Independence, as some contemporary reflections note, was never meant to be an end point. It was a beginning. The promise of 1948 was not only self-rule but better rule, fairer rule, accountable rule. Yet Sri Lanka’s political trajectory suggests the promise remains unfulfilled. The story of Sri Lanka’s independence is also a story of struggles over whose freedom was truly secured and whose voices were left unheard. The tragedy is not that the country failed to achieve independence, but that it failed to sustain the moral and institutional foundations necessary to protect it.
Independence is not merely the transfer of power from colonizer to colonized. It is the cultivation of a political ethos grounded in justice, accountability, and inclusivity. Political decline is not irreversible, but recovery requires more than constitutional tinkering or electoral change. It demands a reimagining of the social contract, a recommitment to pluralism, democratic governance, and the rule of law. Independence is a covenant between the state and its people. It is renewed not through anniversaries but through daily practice: transparent decision-making, equal citizenship, institutional independence, and public ethics. Ceylon’s independence in 1948 was a triumph of constitutional negotiation. Sri Lanka’s decline in subsequent decades is a cautionary tale about how fragile that triumph can be. Yet within this story lies the possibility of renewal, because nations, like individuals, can confront their failures, learn, and change course.
My Take
If I were to offer my take on policies and practices Sri Lanka must adopt for its future, I would begin with a truth that is both uncomfortable and liberating: nations do not decline because they lack resources, but because they lack the discipline to steward those resources with integrity. Sri Lanka’s predicament is not the product of one miscalculation or one act of folly. It is the cumulative effect of institutional neglect, economic short-termism, and a political culture that too often rewards loyalty over competence. The path forward must begin with a reorientation of national priorities away from political theatrics and toward the sober work of rebuilding institutions.
The first and most urgent priority is restoring institutional independence. A nation cannot prosper when public institutions are treated as extensions of political will rather than guardians of the public interest. Sri Lanka must recommit to the principle that the judiciary, public service, police, and regulatory bodies operate free from political interference. This is not idealism. It is national survival. Citizens, investors, and international partners require assurance that decisions are made according to law, not political expediency. A depoliticized public service, recruited on merit, insulated from patronage, and empowered with professional autonomy should become the cornerstone of renewal.
Equally essential is building a political culture that values long-term planning over short-term gratification. Sri Lanka’s economic crises repeatedly stem from the same pattern: borrowing without discipline, spending without strategy, and governing without foresight. The country needs a fiscal framework that enforces transparency, mandates parliamentary oversight of major borrowing, and subjects public expenditure to rigorous cost-benefit review. Economic policy must be grounded in evidence, not populism. Unsustainable subsidies, reckless tax cuts, and vanity projects should not substitute for durable investment in education, technology, agriculture, and sustainable energy.
Education demands urgent transformation. A nation’s future is written in the minds of its youth, and Sri Lanka cannot compete globally if schooling remains tethered to outdated curricula, rigid hierarchies, and exam-driven rote learning. The country should prioritize critical thinking, scientific literacy, and technological competence, while strengthening bilingualism and multicultural understanding as practical tools for national cohesion. A society that understands its diversity and shared destiny is less vulnerable to the divisive rhetoric that has repeatedly derailed democratic progress.
Reconciliation must become more than a slogan. The wounds of the past cannot be healed through silence or denial. Sri Lanka should adopt policies that acknowledge the suffering of all communities, ensure equal protection under the law, and create credible mechanisms for truth-telling and restorative justice. This is not about assigning blame. It is about creating conditions for trust. A nation that refuses to confront its past risks repeating it. A nation that confronts it honestly can transform pain into a foundation for unity.
In parallel, governance must become genuinely inclusive. The centralization of power has long driven tension and inefficiency. A more balanced distribution of authority through meaningful devolution, empowered local government, and participatory decision-making would strengthen democracy and improve service delivery. Communities understand their needs better than distant bureaucracies. Empowering them is not a concession. It is an investment in effective governance.
Another critical area is the rule of law. Sri Lanka must adopt a zero-tolerance approach to corruption not as rhetoric, but as enforceable policy. This requires independent investigative bodies, transparent procurement processes, and the digitalization of government services to reduce opportunities for graft. Corruption is not only a moral failing. It is an economic tax that deters investment, stifles innovation, and erodes public trust. A nation that tolerates corruption cannot progress. A nation that confronts it can unlock its potential.
Environmental stewardship must also become a national priority. Sri Lanka’s natural beauty is not only pride but a vital economic asset. Deforestation, pollution, and unsustainable development threaten ecological balance and climate resilience. Policies that promote renewable energy, protect biodiversity, and regulate land use should be integrated into national planning, particularly in agriculture and coastal management.
Finally, Sri Lanka must cultivate a political ethos grounded in humility and service. Leadership is not the art of commanding. It is the discipline of listening. The political class should prioritize transparency, public consultation, and accountability. Parliamentary debates must be substantive rather than performative. Policy decisions must be communicated clearly and honestly. Citizens must be treated not as subjects to be managed, but as partners in governance. Democracy flourishes when leaders respect the intelligence and dignity of the people.
Reform will not be easy. Entrenched interests resist change. Yet Sri Lanka has faced adversity before and emerged with resilience. What is required is not a miracle but collective commitment to enduring principles: justice, integrity, prudence, and compassion. Independence is not a date on a calendar. It is a continuous act of becoming. Sri Lanka, with all its complexity and promise, is still becoming.
