-By Staff Columnist – The Political Intelligentsia Review
(Lanka-e-News -18.April.2025, 8.55 PM) It was always a curious phenomenon—how S.M. Marikar, a man with little to show in terms of legislative acumen or policy gravitas, continued to strut the corridors of Parliament as if he were the kingmaker of Kolonnawa. His brand was loud, his speeches theatrical, and his political loyalties perpetually "under renovation." But now, the carefully curated image of the "media-savvy opposition firebrand" has started to crumble. Not due to external attack—but by his own unravelling words, actions, and backdoor dealings that connect him not to his current party, the Samagi Jana Balawegaya (SJB), but to its political nemesis, former President Ranil Wickremesinghe.
As the latest internal crisis brews within the SJB, all eyes have turned to Marikar—not as a victim of factionalism, but as the instrument of it.
In the early days of the SJB’s formation, Marikar played the role of the defiant dissenter. When Sajith Premadasa broke ranks with Ranil Wickremesinghe and launched the SJB as a new opposition force against the stagnation and elitism of the United National Party (UNP), Marikar was among those who claimed to stand in solidarity.
He waxed eloquent in Parliament about the need to liberate Sri Lanka’s democracy from "Rajapaksa tyranny" and "Ranil's aristocratic arrogance." He even fashioned himself as an advocate of the urban poor, speaking of the flood-ridden backstreets of Kolonnawa as if he were their political messiah.
But while his rhetoric rose, so did suspicions. Marikar's repeated appearances in friendly interviews on Maharaja TV channels—often more favorable to Ranil than Sajith—raised eyebrows. Whispers grew louder that Marikar, once a mere media man, had not merely stayed close to the Maharaja network but had weaponized his access to manipulate narratives, muzzle critics, and broker loyalty for the old regime in new clothing.
In hindsight, the signs were all there: the calculated silence on Ranil’s failures, the conveniently timed criticisms of SJB strategy, and the frequent leaks of confidential opposition deliberations that always seemed to benefit one man—Ranil Wickremesinghe.
Multiple SJB insiders now confirm what many suspected: that S.M. Marikar has functioned as a discreet informant for Ranil Wickremesinghe since the early days of the SJB’s rise.
“He attends our meetings, he nods his head, he offers suggestions—but the next day, Ranil already knows what was said,” said one senior SJB strategist, speaking on condition of anonymity. “It’s not sabotage; it’s espionage.”
These aren’t empty allegations. Parliamentary correspondents have noted with increasing frequency how Ranil’s camp reacts to SJB plans with uncanny foresight. Several speeches by UNP parliamentarians appear tailored in real-time to counter internal SJB policies that hadn't yet been made public.
Where was the leak? All trails lead to the man with the booming voice and TV-ready tie collection—Marikar.
The boogeyman is no longer hiding in the closet. He’s sitting at the SJB's table.
Kolonnawa—flood-prone, underdeveloped, and politically volatile—has long served as the launchpad for Marikar’s political ambitions. He did not win over the electorate through innovation, policy, or reform. He won it by becoming the loudest voice in their misery.
Every year, as the rain floods homes and roads turn into rivers, Marikar appears on camera, sleeves rolled up, yelling at some state officer or lamenting about negligence. It’s not governance. It’s performance art.
And yet, his voters—battered by poverty and disillusionment—see in him a man who at least "shows up." What they don’t know is that while he shows up for them, he kneels in backroom meetings with Colombo’s elite—working not to uplift Kolonnawa but to secure his political insurance through patronage from Ranil and his backers.
When Ranil Wickremesinghe briefly returned to power as President—backed by the Rajapaksas in the aftermath of Aragalaya—S.M. Marikar’s political fortunes seemed, paradoxically, to brighten.
Why?
According to highly placed political sources, President Wickremesinghe reached out to three corporate entities—one in the media, one in finance, and one in urban development—with a specific request: “Look after Marikar.”
Look after him, not because he’s a statesman or visionary. But because he’s the mole. The boogeyman placed inside the SJB to ensure its fragmentation from within.
The companies, allegedly rewarded with generous urban development tenders and media licensing privileges, ensured that Marikar’s visibility remained high, his campaign cashflow uninterrupted, and his public image burnished—despite his glaring lack of legislative output.
It’s not that Marikar has switched sides. It’s that he never truly had one. His entire political career is built on one principle: who can keep me relevant?
At one point, it was Sajith. Now, it’s Ranil.
This isn’t ideology. This isn’t strategy. It’s classic opportunism masked in populist clothing. He tells the people of Kolonnawa he is their champion, but when the time comes to vote on key infrastructure bills, his record is ambiguous. When flood relief funding is debated, his voice is muffled. When housing schemes are distributed to loyalists, he is silent on the corruption that excludes his own constituents.
What he never misses, however, is a press briefing.
Marikar, the media man, understands one thing well: perception beats policy in Sri Lankan politics.
The bigger question now confronting SJB leadership is not just Marikar’s betrayal—but how to handle it.
Expelling him might trigger a factional backlash. Keeping him means tolerating a surveillance device within the party.
Some insiders believe Sajith Premadasa has been “too kind, too trusting,” allowing Marikar to maneuver unchecked. Others argue the SJB’s refusal to build stronger internal vetting mechanisms is what allowed this breach in the first place.
Either way, Marikar has achieved what he was allegedly sent to do: sow distrust, spread misinformation, and delay the party’s electoral readiness.
And for that, he continues to be rewarded—from above and from afar.
What S.M. Marikar represents is bigger than one man’s betrayal. He is the living symbol of Sri Lanka’s parasitic political ecosystem—a system where political actors are not judged by their ability to legislate, lead, or uplift, but by their ability to manipulate, leak, and survive.
He is the poster child of performative politics—loud on the outside, hollow on the inside.
He is the consequence of voters placing faith in charisma over competence, and of parties failing to separate loyalty from usefulness.
Most dangerously, he is not alone.
For every Marikar that is exposed, there are ten more waiting in the wings. And unless the SJB—and Sri Lankan politics more broadly—rebuilds around integrity, not utility, these boogeymen will continue to haunt every party, every election, and every reform movement.
In the short term, S.M. Marikar will likely continue to operate as a disruptive force within the SJB. His double-speak, media theatrics, and covert loyalty to Ranil Wickremesinghe will remain a destabilizing factor.
But in the long term, his legacy will be a cautionary tale.
He reminds us why Sri Lanka’s political culture is in desperate need of purging—not just of corrupt elites, but of the opportunistic middlemen who claim to oppose corruption while acting as conduits for it.
If the SJB is serious about reform, it must act. If Sajith wants to distinguish himself from his political predecessors, he must clean house.
And if the voters of Kolonnawa ever wish to stop flooding—not just with rain but with false promises—they must turn the lights on and see the boogeyman for what he truly is:
A shadow of the old order.
A traitor to the new.
A parasite feeding on both.
-By Staff Columnist
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by (2025-04-18 15:12:41)
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