-By Financial Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -09.May.2025, 11.15 PM) There are tycoons who make their billions with flamboyant flair, parading their wealth like overripe mangoes at a Colombo street market. Then there are the shadow mandarins: tacticians of quiet power, whose influence is whispered in the back corridors of cabinet offices and buried in the footnotes of company reports. Hariharan and Manoharan Selvanathan — known in Colombo's corridors of commerce simply as "Hari and Mano" — belong squarely to the latter camp.
As the omnipresent duo behind Carson Cumberbatch PLC and its web of subsidiaries, the Selvanathan brothers have spent decades cultivating a reputation for discretion, wealth, and uncanny proximity to political power. But now, the very shadows in which they operated are being illuminated by a new wave of anti-corruption laws, championed by Sri Lanka’s fledgling Financial Investigations Bureau. And the spotlight isn’t flattering.
Investigators are reportedly circling around a curious regulation enacted during the tenure of former Finance Minister Ravi Karunanayake — a man known more for his luxury wristwatches than fiscal probity. In particular, authorities are probing the 2015 imposition of a restrictive alcohol importation licensing scheme, which effectively granted Carson Cumberbatch a near-monopoly over alcohol imports through its breweries and associated arms.
Was this a matter of national health policy? Or was it, as some allege, a subtle favour to Hari and Mano — gentlemen not averse to a neat pour of Arrack capitalism?
“On the surface, it looked like regulation,” said a former Treasury official on condition of anonymity. “But it reeked of regulatory capture. Carson’s market share ballooned while smaller players suffocated. The Selvanathans practically wrote the licensing framework — they just made the government sign it.”
Karunanayake, reached for comment, declined to offer one — which in itself speaks volumes.
Equally mysterious is how Carson Cumberbatch acquired Bukit Darah, an Indonesian plantation holding that grew into one of the group’s crown jewels. According to financial analysts, the acquisition — and subsequent aggressive expansion under PT Agro Indomas — required capital injections that far exceeded what the books publicly disclosed at the time.
Where did the money come from?
“Fund flows to and from Sri Lanka during the 1990s and early 2000s were notoriously opaque,” said Ruwan Perera, a Colombo-based financial forensic expert. “The Exchange Control Department was essentially ceremonial. Wealthy elites moved capital out via Hawala systems, under-invoiced exports, even charitable fronts.”
The Financial Investigations Bureau is reportedly examining whether the Selvanathan brothers funnelled funds offshore through trade misinvoicing or via shell entities in Singapore — most notably through Goodhope Asia Holdings (GAH), the plantation sector arm of Carsons, incorporated in Singapore in 2008.
Documents obtained by The Guardian suggest that Goodhope was not merely a holding structure — it may have been a conduit. One internal memo flagged “inter-company transfers lacking adequate documentation” between Carson Cumberbatch in Colombo and GAH in Singapore. The amounts were “not insignificant,” according to the memo.
Another line of inquiry is focused on political donations — or, more precisely, undisclosed ones. Sri Lanka lacks a formal campaign finance disclosure law, and while political parties occasionally reveal donor lists, the real players seldom show up.
But whispers in VVIP circles suggest the Selvanathans have been “generous” with multiple parties over the years, hedging their political bets with bipartisan benevolence. The recipients, according to one investigator, include both ruling parties and opposition figures — from UNP stalwarts to members of the Rajapaksa dynasty.
“Donations weren’t always in cash,” said a former political insider. “There were flights on private jets, stays in Indonesian resorts, use of offshore accounts for campaign expenses. And no one declared a rupee of it.”
Did Hari and Mano break any laws? Until recently, probably not. But new legislation enacted in 2025 under Sri Lanka’s Proceeds of Crime Act has introduced retroactive scrutiny clauses and asset tracing tools that make past financial misdemeanours fair game.
To the average investor, Carson Cumberbatch’s ownership structure is a baroque puzzle: a merry-go-round of holding companies, cross-holdings, and interlocked directorships. At the centre of this kaleidoscope sits Bukit Darah, which owns a controlling interest in Carsons, which in turn owns shares in Bukit Darah — a form of corporate incest that would make a Cayman Islands accountant blush.
As of 2024, the group held stakes in over eleven listed companies, from Lion Brewery (maker of Sri Lanka’s national beer) to oil palm plantations in Indonesia and Papua New Guinea. All are tightly controlled by the Selvanathan brothers, often through discreet nominee structures.
“They effectively run an empire within an empire,” said a Colombo Stock Exchange insider. “It’s the closest thing we have to a legalised oligarchy.”
The control isn’t just financial — it’s psychological. In the polite, white-shirted boardrooms of Sri Lankan commerce, few dare speak against the Selvanathans. “Even when they screw you,” said one mid-level CEO, “they do it so politely you end up thanking them.”
The Inland Revenue Department, newly empowered under fiscal reforms supported by the IMF, is now investigating whether the Selvanathan Group under-declared taxable profits over the past decade. Of particular interest are related-party transactions between Sri Lankan and Singaporean entities, many of which were not marked to market.
The tax authorities are also re-opening the books on transfer pricing agreements — arrangements which allowed Carsons to shift profit-generating activities to jurisdictions with lower tax burdens, notably Singapore and Indonesia.
While such manoeuvres are not illegal per se, failing to disclose them adequately is — especially if the transactions were not conducted at arm’s length.
“The brothers are brilliant at staying just on the right side of the law,” said a senior auditor. “But they may have overplayed their hand when they assumed they were untouchable.”
What is perhaps most extraordinary is not the scale of the empire the Selvanathans built, but the near-total silence surrounding them. They have never run for public office. They avoid social events. They grant no interviews. They are, in many ways, the anti-politician billionaires — preferring private jets to press conferences.
Yet their influence is everywhere. Their decisions move markets. Their contributions sway policies. Their discreet lobbying can alter regulatory regimes.
In 1988, their family-owned Sri Krishna Corporation — a modest export house founded during colonial Ceylon — acquired the controlling stake in Carsons. From that beachhead, the brothers embarked on a calculated expansion: first into breweries, then plantations, then into overseas acquisitions cloaked in corporate anonymity.
By 2025, Hari Selvanathan is said to rank fifth on the list of Sri Lanka’s wealthiest — a billionaire by any reasonable estimate, though his net worth remains unverified due to offshore holdings and complex share structures.
Yet he retains the bearing of a university professor rather than a tycoon — soft-spoken, cerebral, and seemingly allergic to flamboyance. His brother Mano, meanwhile, is described as the more affable and accessible of the two — a boardroom operator with a talent for behind-the-scenes coalition-building.
Sri Lanka’s newly emboldened anti-corruption authorities now face a daunting task: untangling decades of privilege, paperwork, and power. Whether they have the political will — or spine — to take on the Selvanathan brothers remains to be seen.
“Going after them,” said one investigator, “would be like trying to drain a swamp with a teaspoon.”
Still, the investigations are real. Files are open. Travel restrictions have been quietly imposed. Subpoenas have been drafted. And the once-invulnerable image of Carson Cumberbatch is starting to look a bit more… permeable.
In the words of one Colombo wag: “For years, Carsons made profits as if by divine right. Now the gods may finally be auditing their accounts.”
As for Hari and Mano? They remain silent. No press releases. No tweets. Just the hum of jets overhead, the rustle of plantation leaves in Kalimantan, and the quiet rustling of lawyers poring over years of "strategic" compliance.
In silence, after all, is how empires fall.
-By Financial Correspondent
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by (2025-05-09 20:22:05)
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