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AKD presidency @ 1: Walking the talk or talking the walk?
View(s):This week will see President Anura Kumara Dissanayake notch up one year as the ninth Executive President of Sri Lanka. The second youngest to assume the highest office in the land at the age of 55, after Chandrika Kumaratunga, who was 49 when she took office, Dissanayake broke many a barrier when he became president, becoming the first from outside the then two-party political system to lead the country. Unsurprisingly, he was also the first to be elected president on a second count, not obtaining the required ‘fifty per cent plus one’ votes at the first count.
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake: Mixed results in the first year report card
Mr Dissanayake completes his first year as Head of State, Head of Government and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces in a country which, when he took over, was just recovering from a period of political upheaval with an unprecedented mass uprising baying for the blood of the sitting Executive President at the gates of his official residence—a movement copied since by Bangladeshis and Nepalis. The country was stabilised to some extent from the worst economic crisis it had ever faced with the intervention of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and some judicious lobbying with its lenders, even though his partymen were fond of oft-repeating that they inherited a “bunkoloth ratak” (bankrupt nation).
Predictably, and in keeping with the so-called ‘new political culture’ ushered in by Mr Dissanayake’s party, the Jathika Jana Balavegaya (JJB, better known by its English acronym NPP for National Peoples’ Power), there will be no celebratory tamashas. Mr Dissanayake will be in New York on his first ‘anniversary’, attending the General Assembly session of the United Nations. He will be happy that he has completed one year in office without any mishaps of any significant nature. Still, it is time to take stock because a fifth of his tenure is now over.
At least initially, there was an attempt to belittle Mr Dissanayake’s victory at the presidential election because he obtained only 42 per cent of the vote on the first count. An argument was made by some that a majority of voters voted against him. That may have been a blessing in disguise for Mr Dissanayake because in the general election that followed less than two months later, his NPP was handed a two-thirds majority with a whopping 61 per cent of the vote, unprecedented for a single party under the proportional representation system of voting.
With the scale of that victory and the scenario of a radical, overtly left-of-centre political party assuming power for the first time, ending what they called the ‘seventy-six-year curse’ of two-party politics, the weight of expectation was heavy. The thrust of the NPP’s election platform was its pledge to root out corruption, punish the corrupt and the criminal and usher in a ‘clean’ political culture. The party also promised to review and revamp the ailing economy, resurrected from its deathbed under Ranil Wickremesinghe’s stewardship.
Is Mr Dissanayake on his way to keeping his promises? The one-year mark is probably not the best time to pass judgement but rather a pointer to what might come. What emerges is a mixed picture of some successes, the best of intentions but failures in implementation and some blunders that are nothing short of embarrassing.
The first hiccup came very early, with its nominee for Speaker, Asoka Sapumal Ranwala, being found wanting in his credentials. Mr Ranwala said he had a doctorate, but when pressed for evidence, he couldn’t substantiate his claim. What was at stake was the new government’s credibility and integrity. Mr Dissanayake cracked the whip, and Mr Ranwala resigned, but the clean-up wasn’t complete: Mr Ranwala remains a Member of Parliament, and for a party that promised puritan politics, many saw this as ‘the same old story’.
There were times when such flexibility about its ideals was a virtue too. If the business community had apprehensions that Mr Dissanayake would dismantle the country’s right-of-centre economic policies, they needn’t have worried. Deviating from their election rhetoric, instead of renegotiating with the IMF, Mr Dissanayake, who is also Finance Minister, stuck faithfully to Mr Wickremesinghe’s agreement with the institution, assiduously ensuring a steady supply of dollars and, as a result, food, fuel, gas and electricity, the lack of which led to Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s undoing. Also retained were Mr Wickremesinghe’s Treasury Secretary (until his retirement), his Central Bank Governor and his Ambassador to the United States. If anything, that showed that Mr Dissanayake was smart enough to be a pragmatist notwithstanding his criticism of the IMF and his public political ideology when the occasion demanded.
Mr Dissanayake keeps to his script from Parliament to public platform to television programmes that “all are equal before the law” and that no one, however high and mighty, will escape the force of the law. He says the judiciary, law enforcement authorities and the police function without political interference. The results are beginning to show. Sweeping changes have been made to judicial appointments by the Judicial Services Commission. The Commission Investigating Allegations of Bribery or Corruption (CIABOC) is filing charges without fear, though whether it is without favour is yet to be proven. The recent operation in Indonesia to nab five alleged underworld leaders suggests that the police under Priyantha Weerasooriya are not what they were under the previous dispensation, which launched a questionable anti-narcotics drive.
If such exercises were to count on the credit side of the Dissanayake balance sheet, introducing new legislation to deprive former presidents of their privileges has evoked mixed responses. It is true that Maithripala Sirisena and Mahinda Rajapaksa in particular may have milked the system and enjoyed luxurious privileges at exorbitant cost to the taxpayer, but to then deprive all former leaders of all their privileges barring their pensions instead of streamlining the process seems like not just political revenge but a witch-hunt. Mr Dissanayake and his team will argue that they are only fulfilling an election pledge, but his critics will say the NPP has not kept a majority of its election promises, so why is there an indecent hurry about this one?
The arraignment of Ranil Wickremesinghe on charges of misusing state funds to attend a graduation ceremony for his wife Maithree, too, has all the ingredients of a political act, given the speed of greased lightning at which he was questioned, arrested and thrown before a magistrate and handcuffed before the day was out. Politician Mano Ganesan didn’t help Mr Wickremesinghe’s cause when he told an opposition press briefing that they wouldn’t mind the former president being charged with the Central Bank bond scam, but they opposed him being charged for this—and that was the feeling for many, that revenge was being served cold in a ‘Banana Republic’ and that it was ugly to watch. Again, Mr Dissanayake’s response has been that absolutely no one is above the law because establishing the rule of law and order was also one of his key election promises. Privately, his ministers would defend what turned out to be a botched exercise by over-enthusiastic policemen that they were able to prove, indeed, the fact that no one was above the law, irrespective of whether there was a case or not. Taken together, the expulsion of the Rajapaksas and the remanding of Mr Wickremesinghe and other opposition politicians can be seen either way: no one is above the law, or it is political persecution aimed at neutralising an opposition and moving towards a one-party state.
If Mr Dissanayake and his government are to remain so focused on their election promises, there are many others that need to be kept: abolishing the executive presidency and repealing the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) and the Online Safety Act (OSA), among others. These were key slogans that Mr Dissanayake repeated ad nauseum from election platforms, abolishing the executive presidency being foremost among them. Now, the silence on all these issues is deafening. What we see is also not what we hear: Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath told Parliament that a bill to repeal the PTA would be gazetted in September. The month is almost over, and instead of the gazette, what we have is the five alleged underworld leaders brought home from Indonesia being detained under the PTA for ninety days, which is not a bad thing after all.
Another key election promise, solving the mystery of who masterminded the 2019 Easter Sunday terror attacks, is also pending. This, despite a rare gaffe from Mr Dissanayake himself, who promised to reveal vital information about the attacks by Easter Sunday 2025. That did not happen. Investigations are ongoing, boomeranging on the government, clouded now with its own Deputy Minister of Defence, the then Eastern Commander Aruna Jayasekara, accused of dereliction of duty. Any investigation into such a controversial incident must not only be above suspicion but appear above suspicion too, but the government is now scurrying to defend their man.
Having always been in the opposition prior to last year, the NPP has never felt the burden of incumbency. This is uncharted territory for them. Quick to lampoon successive governments in office, they are now getting a taste of their own medicine. Trade unions they encouraged to strike are now striking against their rule. Audio and video clips of what NPPers said while in opposition and during their election campaigns are being contrasted with what they say now, much to the merriment of the opposition. That is why their frontliner and minister Wasantha Samarasinghe’s declaration of assets went viral, with critics debunking the theory of the NPP being a ‘poor man’s party’. All these incidents chip away at the image of the NPP as this unpolluted, virginal political entity, painting a picture of humbugs, hypocrites and rascals instead.
In the midst of all this, Mr Dissanayake has remained a ‘one-man show’ of sorts, cleaning up the mess created by his comrades time after time, often having to attend a television talk show of a particular private television channel to do so. He has done a good job of it so far if you pardon the occasional blunder, such as when he said the allocation of funds to local bodies controlled by opposition parties will need to be ‘thought twice’.
The lack of credible, charismatic and competent colleagues has been Mr Dissanayake’s problem. J. R. Jayewardene had Lalith Athulathmudali and Gamini Dissanayake; Chandrika Kumaratunga had Lakshman Kadirgamar; and even Mahinda Rajapaksa had Mangala Samaraweera and Sarath Amunugama. In contrast, whom has Dissanayake got? Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya is content to play the role of poster girl for gender equality. When the JVP hardliners bark at her, she zips up. Bimal Rathnayake, as Leader of the House, behaves as if he is the naughtiest boy who has been made monitor of the class, stooping so low often as to refer to opposition MPs in Parliament as ‘lapai sipai’ (or riff-raff). Cabinet Spokesman Nalinda Jayatissa sports a cryptic smile and does his best to side-step questions. JVP stalwarts Tilvin Silva and Lal Kantha say it as it is, but they can embarrass the party, while Vijitha Herath at least shows an amiable face. This is what Dissanayake has to work with. Clearly, the idea of stacking the government with ‘educated’ MPs armed with a university degree and little or no political experience hasn’t worked either.
Even so, given the massive mandate the NPP received at the general election and confronted with an opposition which is still trying to find its feet after the bashing it received at the polls, neither Mr Dissanayake’s position as president nor his government is under threat. Nevertheless, there is a sense of discontent that the promised ‘system change’ is not occurring, or if it is, it is too slow. Mr Dissanayake will soon be realising that the electorate is a demanding one.
Mr Dissanayake needs to take into account a unique fact of his election: he is arguably the only president elected without a strong party vote base. This is the only explanation for the exponential growth of the NPP’s vote from the infamous ‘three per cent’ in 2019 to 42 per cent five years later. Obviously, many of those who were ardent supporters of Gotabaya Rajapaksa five years ago voted for Mr Dissanayake in 2024. They are not ‘kepuwath rosa paata’ or ‘hardcore’ NPPers. The proportion of this ‘floating’ vote in Mr Dissanayake’s vote bloc last year is higher than any other victorious president before him, because they all had a significant party-affiliated vote to begin with.
As a result, Mr Dissanayake is at a higher risk of these ‘floating’ voters deserting him if they are dissatisfied with him or the NPP. This has happened to some extent already: that is why the NPP vote was slashed by more than two million at the local government elections in May this year, just seven months after its record haul at the general election in November 2024.
Perhaps this is the reason Mr Dissanayake is wary about holding long overdue provincial council elections—although the official excuse is that delimitation needs to be completed. Delaying polls may not be the remedy because the longer the wait, the greater the chance of the discontent growing, especially with the type of statements heard daily from some NPP stalwarts who speak of governing for ten years or multiples thereof.
One year into his term of office, Mr Dissanayake has a major plus factor: his own credibility is still largely intact, vis-à-vis his most likely rivals, Sajith Premadasa and Namal Rajapaksa. Therefore, in a paradoxical kind of way, his greatest strength is the opposition, and his greatest liability is the words and deeds of some in his own party. For now, the former outweighs the latter, but four years later, Mr Dissanayake will need to show results, not just slogans.
Steeped in leftist politics, Anura Kumara Dissanayake appears to be signalling left but turning right. He will know about Marx and Lenin. We are not sure whether he has heard of the purported words of one Founding Father of the United States to another, George Washington to Alexander Hamilton, which are most appropriate for him: “Winning was easy, young man; governing is harder!”
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