-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -20.May.2025, 11.00 PM) For decades, the Sri Lankan public sector has resembled a bloated relic of a post-colonial state – ossified, inefficient, and riddled with corruption. Now, as the newly installed National People’s Power (NPP) government attempts to chart a radical new course for the nation, it finds itself besieged not merely by external economic headwinds but by an insidious enemy within: its own bureaucracy.
From the corridors of the Finance Ministry to the back offices of the Grama Niladharis, the NPP’s bold governance agenda is being quietly and deliberately strangled by the very state machinery meant to implement it. Whispers in Colombo suggest that this is no mere case of institutional lethargy. It is sabotage—slow, calculated, and systemic.
The NPP came to power on a wave of public frustration, promising to tear down the edifice of political cronyism and bureaucratic incompetence. Yet, less than a year into its rule, the party finds itself navigating a minefield of passive resistance: files that vanish mysteriously, tender evaluations that stall for months, key policy documents that are “lost in the system.” The old guard of the state apparatus—composed of decades-long political appointees and unionised public servants—appear determined to see the NPP fail.
In an economy staggering under the weight of IMF restrictions and declining productivity, Sri Lanka’s public sector remains among the region’s most overstaffed. Over 1.5 million government servants draw a monthly salary, many of them immune to scrutiny or performance reviews. The idea of a job for life—regardless of performance—is not merely tolerated but embedded in the bureaucratic DNA.
Take, for example, the custom officers at Bandaranaike International Airport, long considered untouchable. "They used to collect their ‘extra income’ like clockwork," said a senior trade official on condition of anonymity. "Now, under NPP’s anti-corruption stance, they’re under pressure. So what do they do? They delay inspections, hold back documentation, and frustrate exporters. It’s economic sabotage dressed as inefficiency."
Nor is the rot confined to ports and customs. Within the Ministry of Finance, the scene is just as bleak. Officials accustomed to ‘earning’ cuts from every infrastructure tender are now said to be boycotting meetings and undermining procurement processes. In some cases, mid-level bureaucrats are actively leaking internal documents to media outlets aligned with the old political order—weaponising transparency to halt reform.
Beyond sabotage, there is misuse—flagrant and ubiquitous. A visit to Colombo’s elite national schools during dismissal hours paints a revealing picture: government-issued SUVs, labelled with ministry decals, waiting not for ministers, but their children. The vehicles, fuel, and drivers—all paid for by the public—repurposed into school run convoys.
These perks have long been part of the culture of state privilege. Government executives, journalists affiliated with state-run newspapers like Lake House, and senior police officers often enjoy access to state-owned flats in posh parts of the capital. Subsidised housing loans, utility bills reimbursed by the Treasury, and official vehicles with minimal oversight are commonplace.
“Many of these officers wouldn’t last a month in the private sector,” said a retired Human Resources Director from the BOI. “They’re not held to any KPIs. There’s no quarterly review. It’s just—sit tight, avoid scandal, and collect your paycheck.”
More disturbing still is the degree to which corruption has metastasised into daily administrative functions. From birth and death certificates to land approvals and planning permits, each document is an opportunity to extract a bribe. The passport office, a site of perennial national embarrassment, continues to operate as a parallel cash economy.
“It’s not even discreet,” said one IT consultant trying to renew his NIC. “You’re told upfront—this fee if you want it next week, that fee if you want it this month.”
This phenomenon is not the product of isolated rogue elements. Rather, it is the result of a political economy in which public servants have long been incentivised to think of their posts as personal enterprises. Teachers abandon state schools to conduct lucrative private tuition; police officers moonlight as bodyguards or manage family businesses; even clerks operate vehicle import side hustles while ignoring their desks.
What makes the challenge Herculean for the NPP is that these practices are not only deeply entrenched, but legally protected by a vast web of unions, regulatory cover, and mutual silence.
In response, civil society is demanding more than mere declarations. They want action. A proposed multi-pronged approach, discussed in reformist circles close to the NPP leadership, includes:
An Anti-Corruption Hotline: A 24/7 whistleblower-friendly number where citizens can report bribe demands or abuse of office.
Name-and-Shame Website: Inspired by global transparency movements, the site would list proven cases of corruption, complete with names, photographs, and penalties imposed.
Asset Audits and Lifestyle Checks: Particularly for those in sensitive departments such as Customs, Excise, Police, and Land Registries.
Digitalisation of Government Services: To reduce human intervention in routine approvals, thereby limiting rent-seeking behaviour.
Performance-Based Contracts: Converting government employment from a lifelong entitlement into a meritocratic, renewable contract system.
“We can’t fix this system by asking nicely,” says Professor Saman Amarasinghe, a former civil service reformer. “We need to end the tribalism, the union blackmail, the entitlement culture. It’s not just about efficiency—it’s about justice.”
Standing in the way of such sweeping reform, however, are the public sector unions. Historically aligned with political parties of all stripes, these unions have perfected the art of weaponising strikes, media campaigns, and legal interventions to protect their interests.
Already, whispers of “anti-worker” policies are being seeded across state media. Teachers’ unions have threatened island-wide protests should the government move to tighten absenteeism rules. Meanwhile, senior bureaucrats are quietly lobbying MPs to dilute proposed ethics legislation.
The unions’ message is clear: touch our privileges, and we will bring your government down.
The NPP now faces an existential dilemma. It was elected on a promise to drain the swamp. But that swamp is proving to be wider, deeper, and far more treacherous than expected. Its leadership knows that rooting out corruption and inertia from the state system is essential not just for political survival, but for national revival.
So far, the government has adopted a cautious tone—speaking of audits and committee reviews. But public patience is wearing thin. There is growing demand for visible action, for culprits to be prosecuted, for assets to be seized, for the days of impunity to end.
In a recent press conference, NPP leader Anura Kumara Dissanayake hinted at a more confrontational approach. “Those who sabotage the people’s mandate from within will be held accountable,” he warned. “We will not tolerate betrayal, whether in the cabinet or behind a desk.”
It remains to be seen whether this rhetoric will translate into real reform or become another footnote in Sri Lanka’s tragic history of good intentions buried by bureaucratic betrayal.
Sri Lanka is a country teetering between hope and collapse. Its people have chosen a new political direction, but their dreams are being strangled by an outdated, self-serving bureaucracy. The NPP government has a narrow window to act—to cleanse, to restructure, to replace lethargy with performance and entitlement with accountability.
The public sector must be reminded: they are not the masters of the people, but their servants. The salaries they draw, the vehicles they drive, the flats they occupy—all come from the hard-earned taxes of citizens struggling to survive.
The real question now is: will the saboteurs win? Or will Sri Lanka finally have a government—and a public service—worthy of its people's resilience?
-By LeN Political Correspondent
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by (2025-05-20 18:33:54)
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