-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -30.May.2025, 11.00 PM) Standing before the venerated Dhathu Mandiraya at Siri Samadhi Maha Viharaya in Galkiriyagama, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake made a solemn pledge not merely as a statesman but as a man burdened with the moral weight of a nation betrayed—to replace the decaying skeleton of a criminalised state propped up by political protectionism with a just, law-abiding, and internationally respected Sri Lanka.
His words, delivered during the ceremonial unveiling of a statue of the Bodhisattva and the opening of a sacred relic chamber, were anything but ceremonial. They were direct, unequivocal, and, some would say, revolutionary.
“This is not just a duty,” he said, his voice firm and unembellished. “It is an unbreachable moral obligation. One I have sworn to fulfil—even at the cost of my life.”
In his speech, the President did not mince words in diagnosing the failures of his predecessors. Sri Lanka, a country rich in natural resources, ecological beauty, and human capital, had been reduced—he lamented—to a cautionary tale of misgovernance and squandered opportunity.
“Ours is not a poor country. We were impoverished by design—by leaders who operated without foresight, without principles, and without conscience.”
In an era where euphemism is often the currency of political rhetoric, Dissanayake’s candour stood out. His criticism was not levelled at any one government or figure, but rather at a political culture long infected by impunity. “The development we lost,” he said, “was not an accident. It was the result of systematic negligence and state-sanctioned criminality.”
In contrast to that past, he presented his government as one of slow but steady economic rehabilitation. He rejected short-term optics in favour of long-term institutional recovery.
“The national economy is being rebuilt—methodically, structurally, and with care,” he noted. “It is not an illusion of growth we seek, but real, irreversible progress.”
Critics may call this cautious optimism. Supporters may see it as visionary leadership. But all agree on one thing—Anura Kumara Dissanayake is not here to play by the old rules.
In a departure from the archetype of the career politician, Dissanayake made it clear he does not see power as a prize to be hoarded or inherited. “I never chased titles or positions,” he declared, adding that he entered politics not for personal gain, but because he had witnessed, first-hand, the suffering of ordinary people.
This may read as political theatre to some. But those who have followed his career will recall that Dissanayake has long eschewed the trappings of high office, often appearing in Parliament with the simplicity of a man more interested in ideas than in ceremony.
The President doubled down on what is rapidly becoming the cornerstone of his presidency: a return to the rule of law.
He spoke of a nation where no citizen is above the law, where justice is not a service to be purchased or a punishment to be weaponised. “We are building a country where the law is not a whisper in the corridors of privilege, but a force that protects the weakest as much as it restrains the strongest.”
To that end, Dissanayake outlined new institutional steps to strengthen enforcement against narcotics and associated criminal networks. He pledged to establish a resilient network of enforcement bodies capable of stemming the tide of drug trafficking and underworld criminality that has plagued Sri Lanka’s youth and corrupted its bureaucracy.
“If we cannot protect our next generation from this poison,” he said gravely, “we forfeit our right to speak of civilisation.”
In a rare moment of spiritual invocation within a political address, President Dissanayake extended his gratitude to the Maha Sangha for their role not only in preserving the moral fabric of society but in actively contributing to the nation’s healing.
He singled out Venerable Kagama Sirinanda Thero, whose invitation brought the President to the day’s ceremony, for his unwavering commitment to both social reform and religious stewardship.
“The Sangha has a greater role to play than merely offering blessings,” Dissanayake said. “They are guardians of conscience and continuity. As we build a lawful state, they will guide us toward a compassionate society.”
He acknowledged, too, the presence of Most Venerable Pallekama Hemarathana Nayaka Thero, Custodian of the Atamasthana in Anuradhapura, and Most Venerable Mahlekotuwe Vimaladhamma Thero, the chief prelate of Matale District, among others—signalling his administration’s recognition of the Tripitaka tradition as not merely symbolic, but instructive.
Underlying the President’s speech was a motif that has increasingly come to define his administration: national healing. Not just economic repair, but social cohesion. Not just legal reform, but cultural renewal.
“We must create not only a stronger state, but a kinder citizen,” he said. “And that requires a healthy society—a society not corrupted by fear, division, or exploitation.”
In his view, a society bound by legal integrity but devoid of empathy will only replicate the errors of the past. For this reason, he called upon every Sri Lankan—regardless of ethnicity, faith, or status—to become a stakeholder in the new republic.
The event drew not only spiritual luminaries but political figures and ministers of state. Present among them were Minister of Trade, Commerce, Food Security and Cooperative Development Vasantha Samarasinghe, as well as MP Thilina Samarakon.
The presence of both religious and political leaders under the same ceremonial canopy sent a message: This is not a government in conflict with tradition, but in conversation with it.
Some critics will argue that speeches are easy. That reforms are harder. That the true test of this presidency will not be what is said in Galkiriyagama, but what is implemented in Colombo.
They will point to entrenched interests, corrupt networks, and the inertia of bureaucracy. They will question whether a president elected on a tide of disillusionment can survive the tide of resistance that follows every attempt at genuine reform.
And yet, even the sceptics are paying attention. Because for the first time in decades, a Sri Lankan leader is not offering excuses. He is offering accountability.
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s appearance at the Siri Samadhi Maha Viharaya was more than a ceremonial obligation. It was, in many ways, a spiritual renewal of a political promise.
He vowed to protect the vulnerable, to prosecute the criminal, to elevate the honest, and to dismantle the structures that have long treated the state as a private syndicate of elites.
It is an ambitious promise. Perhaps even an impossible one. But in a nation long starved of sincerity, even the promise itself is a beginning.
-By LeN Political Correspondent
---------------------------
by (2025-05-30 22:11:06)
Read 12870 Times
Leave a Reply
0 discussion on this news