-By Political Editor
(Lanka-e-News -18.April.2025, 9.15 PM) In a dramatic twist this week, three former provincial governors—Ranjit Keerthi Thennakoon, Maithri Gunaratne, and Asath Salley—have emerged from political retirement (and perhaps spiritual exile) to issue a statement that can only be described as a divine revelation from the “Church of Righteous Indignation.”
What prompted this sacred awakening, you ask?
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, in his signature straight-talking style, made an offhand yet hilariously honest political comment at a rally: “If the local government body is run by the NPP, we don’t have to waste time doing due diligence. Funding will be fast-tracked. But if it’s controlled by other parties... well, we have to think ten times over.”
Cue gasps. Cue violin music. Cue the three ex-governors clutching their metaphorical pearls and rushing to the press with trembling hands and thunderous moral outrage.
Their joint press release—clearly written under the influence of divine caffeine—reads like a mix between a gospel sermon and an unsuccessful law school thesis.
“We are shocked and disheartened by the President’s statement,” they wrote. “It is an assault on democracy, an insult to local governance, and a disrespect to the sanctity of decentralization.”
The real shock, however, is that these three individuals—known more for colorful controversies than for upholding democratic sanctity—now seem to have undergone a political baptism of fire and are ready to lead the nation back to the promised land of Good Governance.
Let’s start with Asath Salley.
You may remember him as the former Governor of Western Province, but you probably remember him more vividly as the guy who had more financial scandals than the Central Bank had press conferences in 2015.
He was once linked to an infamous pyramid scheme involving two mysterious business figures—Thilini Piamali and a women known only as “Janaki Siriwardhana” ( Madam from Krish Building scandal)
Salley, who allegedly once referred to this Ponzi operation as “an innovative Halal savings culture,” now lectures the public about fiscal fairness and political impartiality.
In fact, at the recent press conference, Salley even went so far as to say: “This statement by the President undermines the ethical foundation of governance.”
One observer noted, “Coming from Asath Salley, that’s like receiving a TED Talk on feminism from Andrew Tate.”
Next up: Maithri Gunaratne. Once a lawyer, then a politician, and now, apparently, a full-time political philosopher.
Maithri’s political career can best be described as “an unbroken streak of electoral therapy.” The people of this country have rejected him more times than a spam call during lunchtime. Presidential elections, parliamentary elections, provincial council elections, even some urban council elections—at this point, he could probably lose a Grama Niladhari vote if he tried.
Despite this, Maithri continues to position himself as the lost prophet of Sri Lankan politics.
This week, he declared: “The President’s comment was authoritarian in tone and undermines our electoral processes.”
Interestingly, this came just days after his son was allegedly involved in a heated altercation in Kelaniya, the details of which remain sketchier than a third-grade pencil drawing. Some say it involved a karaoke machine, others say it was over a parking spot—but what we can confirm is that it was nowhere near a law school debate.
Perhaps Maithri should take a cue from his legal background and rest his case—permanently.
And then there’s Ranjit Keerthi Thennakoon, the man who once held more government land deeds than the Land Registry.
While governor, Ranjit had a peculiar habit of “acquiring” state lands with the zeal of a toddler collecting toys. “This land is for development!” he would declare, only for it to end up next to a relative’s coconut plantation.
Recently, he’s been penning lengthy columns and tweets about “transparency, good governance, and institutional independence”—all while conveniently forgetting the time he allegedly collaborated with the Karu Jayasuriya Foundation, funded partially (and quietly) by USAID, for an “event” that suspiciously resembled a soft-launch of a political campaign.
When asked whether he received foreign funding for political activities, Ranjit stared blankly into the distance and began talking about sustainable agriculture.
What makes this holy trinity’s moral crusade even more laughable is their collective silence during actual democratic crises.
Where were these guardians of governance when President Maithripala Sirisena unconstitutionally dissolved Parliament in 2018?
When the very foundation of democratic rule was shaken, these three ex-governors were either on vacation, writing blogs, or mysteriously unavailable for comment.
It appears that democracy is a sacred cow to be worshipped—only when it helps them get back into politics.
Let’s be real—President Anura’s statement wasn’t some Machiavellian masterstroke. It was just political truth spoken without a filter.
In Sri Lanka, every government does this. Every single one.
From UNP to SLPP to SLFP—central governments have always prioritized local governments that align with them politically. It's not right. But it's not new.
What’s different now is that Anura Kumara actually said it out loud.
Cue meltdown.
The three ex-governors, in response, acted as if this was the first time they’d heard of political patronage. Ranjit Kirti even called it “a dangerous precedent,” which is hilarious considering he once called a journalist “dangerous” for asking about a suspicious land grant.
Some political analysts suspect this isn’t about outrage—it’s about auditions.
“These guys want to be noticed,” said one senior political journalist. “This is like a low-budget reality show where everyone’s fighting to be ‘Sri Lanka’s Next Top Opposition Candidate.’”
They know the NPP’s popularity is rising, and they’re scrambling to stay relevant. One source claims Maithri recently tried to start a YouTube channel called “Governors Gone Wild,” though this could not be independently verified (and frankly, we hope it's not true).
The average Sri Lankan has one simple request to these former governors: take a seat. Better yet, take several. Maybe in a quiet, reflective corner of a retirement home for politically expired governors.
The country is tired of political has-beens throwing tantrums every time they’re not invited to the table. Your moment has passed. You had your turn. You didn’t clean up the system. In fact, some of you made it worse.
Now, while the NPP is trying to inject honesty (albeit rough around the edges) into governance, you’ve suddenly rediscovered the gospel of democracy?
Save it.
The President’s comment may have been politically blunt. But it wasn’t dishonest.
And honesty, in Sri Lankan politics, is rarer than a pothole-free road in Colombo.
The ex-governors’ outrage? That’s a performance.
A bad one.
And judging by the reaction from the public—who met their press statement with memes, laughter, and the collective eye-roll of a nation—it’s a performance that probably won’t get renewed for another season.
So let the record reflect: we are witnessing not a moral awakening, but a desperate encore from three politicians who want to pretend they were saints in a system they once happily enjoyed.
Sri Lanka deserves better than this rerun.
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by (2025-04-18 15:46:04)
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