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• As India and Pakistan spar for war, where does Lanka stand?

What’s so secret about the defence pact—and six others—signed with India’s Narendra Modi that it has to be kept so secret by the government, like a schoolgirl hiding her love letters from suspicious parents?

SIGNED BUT UNSEEN: Modi and Dissanayake hail the historic pact though the people are yet to see what is there in the pact before they can hail it themselves

Does it contain something so sinister, something so damaging to the nation’s sovereignty that it has to be kept locked up, unseen, lest its revelation unleashes mass revolt? But in the absence of any response to public demand for chapter and verse to be disclosed, rumour is rife, and conspiracy theories, churned out by the dozen, ride every bus and mushroom on every sidewalk.

Keeping it secret allows any politician to hold press conferences and claim he’s privy to the hidden agreements and spill out its alleged contents, in the confidence it cannot be denied or convincingly contradicted without the government lifting its blanket of secrecy first.

Leader of the Pivithuru Hela Urumaya, Gammanpila, went on TV last week and, showing a sheaf of paper and claiming it to be the Full Monty of the Energy Pact, raised serious concerns over certain sections of the treaty.

It may be true, but then again, it may not be. Gammanpila can be given the benefit of the doubt, and what he discloses from the alleged pact can be believed as gospel truth. In all fairness, he himself might believe it’s so, that it’s nothing else than a leaked copy of the original energy agreement.

But can the public base their opinion on a belief, no matter how well steeped in faith? On faith? On blind faith, as JVP MP Lakmali Hemachandra professed in a TV talk show, she reposes in her leaders’ infallibility, incapable of deceiving or erring in judgement at any time.

Perhaps, these are a few chosen tidbits, relatively harmless yet sufficiently controversial, fed to the people to keep them busy in meaningless banter with the unwitting Gammanpila its chosen tool?

In times of world and regional peace, the cry for its disclosure may have been merely to satisfy public curiosity, but with war drums sounding in neighbouring India and Pakistan, disclosing the Articles of the Indo-Lanka Defence Pact, signed in Colombo not even a month ago on April 5, becomes crucial for the people to know exactly where Sri Lanka stands, torn as she is between two friendly states sparring for war.

Are we to cheer for India? Or clap for Pakistan? Or remain spectators with ‘non-aligned’ writ boldly on the back of our T-shirts? Or has our sovereign right to be one of the three been robbed from us by the Indo-Lanka Defence Treaty?

The Kashmir incident, where terrorists mowed down 26 Indian tourists on April 22 in the picturesque town of Pahalgam—referred to as the Switzerland of India—in the Himalayas, invoked India’s wrath and made her poise for war with Pakistan. Such was India’s fury that she even threatened to suspend the Indus Waters Treaty and cut the flow of water to Pakistan to irrigate her fields.

The senseless massacre in Indian-administered Kashmir was rightfully condemned by the Sri Lankan President who ‘reaffirmed Sri Lanka’s commitment to countering terrorism’. Other regional neighbours, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan and Nepal also condemned the incident. Pakistan, too, condemned the attack, though it firmly denied any involvement and rejected India’s allegations of cross-border support for terrorism.

On April 29, Lanka’s Ministry of Defence, in a media statement, said, “In conjunction with the ongoing defence dialogue, Defence Secretary Thuyacontha held a sideline meeting yesterday with Defence Minister of Pakistan, Khawaja Muhammad Asif. Both nations share a longstanding relationship rooted in mutual respect and strategic cooperation.”

But on April 30, the Daily Mirror, quoting a top diplomatic source, reported: “The Pakistani authorities have apparently taken note of the wordings of the statement issued by the President’s Media Division condemning the terror attack. The Pakistani authorities are concerned why the Sri Lankan President did not display neutrality in this case by condemning the incident in which Baloch separatists hijacked the Jaffar Express passenger train travelling from Quetta to Peshawar near the city of Sibi in Pakistan’s Balochistan Province on March 11, 2025.” The incident, which the United Nations condemned as a ‘heinous terrorist attack, left 54 dead.

Lanka certainly seems to have landed in some sort of diplomatic ‘mulligatawny’ soup, doesn’t it? We can forgive such gaffes, but will nations with whom we have good relations ever forget?

So where do we exactly stand? Where does the world believe we stand? Let alone Pakistan, does China’s Xi Jinping wonder where Lanka truly stands? On the fence or on one side? If so, which one?

But insofar as helping the people to sift the wheat from the chaff, there has been no succour coming from the government’s camp. There has been no effort to clear the air but a vain resolve to keep the people of Lanka fogged in doubt.

Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath said on April 8 in Parliament, “This is not a secret agreement. The public can request information under the Right to Information.” Can they?

But doesn’t Section 5 of the Right to Information Act expressly state, “A request under this Act for access to information shall be refused, where disclosure of such information would undermine the defence of the State or its territorial integrity or national security; or would be or is likely to be seriously prejudicial to Sri Lanka’s relations with any State”?

Wouldn’t the independent commissioners have to be first privy to the ultra-secret treaty before they can peruse and decide whether or not ‘disclosure of such information would undermine the defence of the State’ or ‘seriously prejudicial to Sri Lanka’s relations with any State’?

Do the independent commissioners have the wide-ranging expertise necessary to realistically determine whether such disclosure would adversely affect the relationships Sri Lanka has with each and every state across the globe? Or is that decision usurped from them by the omniscient Minister of Mass Media, upon whom the duty ‘of effectively implementing the provisions’ of the RTI Act finally rests? But not the buck.

Why send the people down a blind alley to bang their heads against a dead-end wall?

The ruling JVP’s Secretary says from his Pelawatte Headquarters, “We have tabled the pacts in Parliament.” But opposition MPs as well as the media can find no evidence that they had been tabled. Again, another dead-end wall.

But on April 22, when Cabinet spokesman Nalinda Jayatissa revealed at the weekly cabinet briefing that Lanka needs India’s consent to disclose the Defence Pact’s contents, he, perhaps unwittingly, let the cat out of the bag.

Minister of Health and Mass Media and Cabinet spokesman to boot, Nalinda Jayatissa said,
“On certain contents, we need mutual agreement to disclose
the information.”

What? Modi’s consent wanted before any details contained in the Defence Treaty, euphemistically referred to as a Defence MOU, could be revealed to the sovereign people of Sri Lanka by the temporary custodians of government? That the people, in whom the Republic of Sri Lanka’s sovereignty is vested by the Constitution, cannot be taken by the government into its confidence unless and until Narendra Modi gives the nod?

That’s quite a revelation by itself. Imagine a cabinet minister going on public record stating unreservedly at an official cabinet briefing that the Lankan government needs to ask the government of India whether it’s okay to tell its own people what the two states mutually signed last month?

Unheard of in the last seventy-six ‘accursed’ years that have passed since we bowed a subservient knee to the British Raj.

Even when the controversial Indo-Lanka Peace Accord was signed—in the midst of inflamed Sinhala sensitivities—by J.R. Jayewardene and Rajiv Gandhi in 1987, whereby 9 Provincial Councils were to be created and an Indian Peace Keeping Force was to be outsourced to take over northern military operations, salient details of the accord lay in the public domain, resulting in a bump on Rajiv Gandhi’s head.

See how the air suddenly cleared, how the mist disappeared, how the smog suddenly lifted to reveal to the people, Lanka’s North Indian Star, that would henceforth guide, by its insidious light, the ship of Lanka’s state.

Shouldn’t the government come clean on the Indo-Lanka Defence Pact, publicly signed by the two leaders in April with much ceremony as if it were the nuptial celebrations of two states, with Modi garlanded with the highest honour for being Lanka’s best friend?

Isn’t it far better for the government to tell us, the people, where Lanka stands on the world stage? Stuffed between India and the US or standing independently alone without being aligned solely to one block? Rather than palming off the people with only the innocuous cover but not the intriguing tale of a modern-day Ramayana in the making.

If the tale within is so harmless—as has been often said—why conceal?

Master of the game turns cool customer Touch wood, touch gold, Ranil Wickremesinghe hasn’t lost any of the savviness that had made him such a formidable foe in the political world. Nor lost an iota of his prowess nor diminished his relish for the cut and thrust of verbal battles. Nor dulled the edge of his unburnished sword when unsheathed to go for the jugular without compulsion or remorse. That he hasn’t lost any of his skills but, like vintage wine, has honed them even better with age became self-evident this week when he gave short shrift to implied charges levelled in the summons received from the Bribery Commission to appear before it to clarify a statement he had made with regard to MP Chamara Sampath’s ongoing bribery case. SLFP MP Chamara Sampath, a vociferous critic of the government, was arrested after giving a statement to the Bribery Commission and remanded by a magistrate court on March 27. The charges against him: Requesting sponsorships from three state banks for provincial council projects and crediting the funds into an account of a foundation operated in his name when he was the Chief Minister of Uva Province. The amount involved was Rs. One Million. Though later released on bail on certain counts, he was further remanded till the 5th of this month. On April 10, however, Ranil Wickremesinghe issued a statement to the media. It was a move that took everyone by surprise. MAESTRO RANIL: Gives polished performance In his statement, prompted, perhaps, by a civic duty to shed some helpful light, he said, “During my time as Prime Minister, a circular was issued by the Treasury Secretary with the approval of then President Maithripala Sirisena, stating that Provincial Council funds could not be placed in fixed deposit accounts. The circular noted that both government funds and other allocated funds must be spent within the same year or returned to the Ministry of Finance or the relevant provincial council ministry. Since holding back and depositing those funds for use in future projects was illegal, we took steps to stop that practice.” “Accordingly”, he continued, “they withdrew those funds from the fixed deposit accounts. This wasn’t limited to Uva Province—similar actions were taken in other provinces as well. I told those involved that this was not a matter I would intervene in and that it should be discussed with the Bribery Commission.” The Bribery Commission sends him a letter summoning him to appear before it the following day, April 11. Ranil replies that, since he and his legal team will not be in Colombo during the Sinhala and Tamil New Year holiday period, he will not be available and requests another day. The commission provides another date, but this too is rejected. Finally, April 28th is mutually agreed as D Day. At the Bribery Commission this Monday, Ranil Wickremesinghe not only reiterates the main thrust of his statement but also lobs the ball back to the Bribery Commission’s court. At a media briefing at his Flower Road office, the former president relates what happened during his three-hour stay at the Bribery Commission that morning. Relaxed and casually sipping a coffee, he says he criticised the Commission for leaking information of his summons to the media, objected to letters sent to him being disclosed to third parties, raised concerns about confidentiality breaches, and cited President Anura Kumara’s reference to the summons and reply at a Batticaloa rally on April 11. He said, “President Dissanayake made a remark in Batticaloa stating that I had informed the Bribery Commission that I could not come on April 15, as I was going to celebrate the New Year. I wonder how President Dissanayake became aware of my correspondence with the Bribery Commission.” If these weren’t enough of a mouthful, he had even gone on to give the commissioners an economic tutorial on the art of using public finance to boost economic activity. At the end of his cameo appearance, no doubt, the commissioners would have heaved a sigh of relief that their three-hour ordeal was finally over. The government denied Ranil’s claim that there had been a confidential breach, asserting it was Ranil himself who had told social media that he had been summoned on April 11. Ranil’s office denied the government’s denial. Ranil, the master of the game, had turned cool customer, a slippery eel none could net nor bait. But the last laugh was not left for him to enjoy. On May 1 morning, Ranil awoke to discover his chief personal security officer, who had been with him for 23 years, had gone missing from his security detail. He had been transferred, without a reason given, to Kankesanthurai police station.