Hopeless youth
View(s):Shehan came across as smart and focused. He wasn’t just dreaming of a better future—he was actively planning for it. His CV said he was 26 years old, which did not surprise me as a bit old to still be in university. From my experience, Sri Lankan students tend to graduate about four years later than their peers in other countries, including nearby ones like India.
Students at a seminar.
Migration plan
Sri Lankan children start Grade One in the school at the age of five—just like in other countries. But as they move through the education system, delays begin to appear. By the time they sit for the GCE Ordinary Level exam, they’re already a year behind. At the Advanced Level, they’re two years behind. And when they finally enter university, they’re often three or four years behind their international peers.
Many students don’t get into university on their first attempt at the Advanced Level exam. A second or even third attempt is common. When all these delays are added up, Sri Lankan university graduates are typically around 25 or 26 years old—about four years older than the global average of 21 or 22.
When I asked Shehan about his dreams after graduation, he replied, “Sir, I’m planning to migrate.”
I wasn’t surprised. For many university students, especially those with global exposure or overseas connections, migration is a familiar aspiration. Those who know the potential and have the means or networks to leave rarely imagine building their future in Sri Lanka. Once that door opens, the decision to step through it feels almost inevitable.
Not surprising anymore
I told Shehan I wasn’t surprised by his plan to migrate, but I wanted to understand what had led him to that decision.
He replied, “Sir, I’m not the only one who feels this way. Most of my batchmates think the same. I’m just one among many.”
I nodded and said, “I understand that. But still—you haven’t answered my question. Why do you all dream of leaving?”
He spoke plainly: “As we near the end of our education, we carry a few dreams—but they are heavy in our hearts. Our hearts feel weighed down. The first challenge is finding a job—not just any job, but one that pays well and offers a future. But we all know that is rare. Only a few get that chance. Most of us are left behind, because this is not a job-creating economy.”
He was right. For years, our governments haven’t focused on creating jobs. Instead, they’ve been supplying jobs—filling public offices with graduates. At this point, it hardly matters what you’ve studied. Whether it’s Arts, Science, Agriculture, or Management, everyone is competing for the same, limited pool of positions.
And for the government, it doesn’t matter either. Your subject or skill set is secondary. Creating jobs is an economic challenge. Supplying jobs, on the other hand, is a political manoeuvre.
Dreams of a youth
Shehan continued, “Sir, if we are lucky enough to land a job, our next dream is to build a small house and buy a car—even a modest one. These are the dreams of youth, right? Then we want to get married and settle down. We’re getting older. We have spent so many years in school and university that we are already late to start our lives.”
But in Sri Lanka, building a house or owning a car is not just a dream—it is often a nightmare. The country ranks among the most expensive in the world when it comes to housing and vehicles, largely due to steep import duties, domestic taxes, and complex regulations.
These hurdles not only inflate costs but also open the door to corruption.
For a young graduate starting out, it takes an average of 15 to 20 years of income to build a modest house in a semi-urban area. Construction materials are heavily taxed—through tariffs, para-tariffs, and domestic levies—making the entire industry prohibitively expensive.
This cost burden trickles down to everyone: homeowners, tenants, businesses operating in these buildings, and even tourists staying in hotels. And beyond the inflated prices, there is the added weight of red tape and informal payments.
Owning a car is no easier. A compact vehicle can cost the equivalent of 10 to 12 years of a graduate’s total earnings. Not because the cars themselves are unaffordable, but because taxes inflate their prices two to three times over.
Economic architecture
Shelter and mobility are among the most basic aspirations of adulthood. When they are priced beyond reach, what remains for young people is not progress—but stagnation.
These two markers are not just personal goals; they are indicators of national development. A country’s progress can often be measured by the growth of its middle class and the corresponding decline in poverty.
In Sri Lanka, however, the economic framework is structurally hostile to these aspirations. The barriers to owning a home or a car are not merely financial—they are existential. When the cost of living undermines the ability to build a dignified life, it erodes hope itself.
Though the government has the capacity to ease these burdens, it often chooses not to. The reasons given—protecting local industries, saving foreign currency, and maintaining tax revenue—may sound politically correct though they are not by economic principles.
But these policies come at a steep cost. Many citizens, even those who support such slogans, are unknowingly sacrificing their own futures and those of their children.
Policies that didn’t work
These policies have not paved the way for Sri Lanka’s prosperity. In fact, they have been in place for much of the past 75 years—and the results speak for themselves. Global experience suggests a different path: allow local producers to compete internationally. When they do, they evolve into global businesses, earn foreign exchange, and contribute meaningfully to national growth.
Ironically, the effort to “save” foreign exchange often ends up costing more than it saves. In some cases, saving one dollar may cost more than a dollar—turning the logic on its head. The outcome is a shrinking economy.
Tax revenue for the government rises from an expanding economy, not from a shrinking economy. Sri Lanka stands as a textbook example of this dynamic, having spiralled into a full-blown economic crisis.
Shehan asked me one final question: “Should I suffer here for another 25 years to reach our dreams; then I will be over 50—or leave for a country where I can work and earn all these things?”
Can we blame him? Hundreds of thousands of young people are making the same choice. While many countries grapple with brain drain, Sri Lanka presents a unique case. It may be the only nation in the world that invests taxpayers’ money in free education for its youth—only to see them contribute to the economies of OECD countries.
Education and migration
A recent study by the Centre for Poverty Analysis (CEPA) reveals a strong link between education level and the desire to migrate. Young people with higher education are acutely aware of the global demand for skilled talent—and the opportunities that await them in countries open to foreign professionals. According to the study, nearly one in two graduates in Sri Lanka aspires to migrate permanently to an OECD country.
This yearning to leave is not new. Youth frustration in Sri Lanka is a deeply rooted issue that has remained unresolved for more than half a century. It is this very frustration—born of unmet aspirations and systemic exclusion—that fueled youth mobilisation into militancy across both Sinhala and Tamil communities since the 1960s and and escalated into insurgencies since the 1970s and the 1980s. Whether driven by ethnic or class-based marginalisation, the common thread was the state’s failure to accommodate and empower its young citizens.
A development economist once put it starkly: “Those days, they took up arms. Nowadays, they leave the country.”
The irony is striking. We celebrate job creation abroad and rising remittance inflows, yet overlook the deeper tragedy: the state’s inability to create pathways for its youth to thrive at home. Migration has become a substitute for opportunity—a silent indictment of a system that has failed to nurture the dreams of its own young generation.
(The writer is Emeritus Professor at the University of Colombo and Executive Director of the Centre for Poverty Analysis (CEPA) and can be reached at sirimal@econ.cmb.ac.lk and follow on Twitter @SirimalAshoka).
Hitad.lk has you covered with quality used or brand new cars for sale that are budget friendly yet reliable! Now is the time to sell your old ride for something more attractive to today's modern automotive market demands. Browse through our selection of affordable options now on Hitad.lk before deciding on what will work best for you!