-By LeN Diplomatic Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -02.June.2025, 11.20 PM) If diplomacy were judged solely by the number of jobs promised, the Maldives would be a humanitarian superpower by now. At least, that’s the impression one might get after hearing High Commissioner Masood Imad—a man of many promises, fewer pay-slips, and even fewer dollars—waltz into the Sri Lankan Foreign Ministry this week with a smile, a spreadsheet, and the mother of all pledges: 100,000 jobs for Sri Lankans in paradise.
Yes, that’s right. The government of the Maldives, currently struggling to scrape together the $500 million it owes Sri Lanka—money borrowed under a sovereign guarantee from a Sri Lankan state bank—has decided that what it lacks in cash, it can make up for in hotel housekeeping and fish-packing jobs. Masood Imad, suave, silver-tongued, and affectionately known in some circles as the “Minister of Promises,” presented his grand plan to none other than the Honourable Vijitha Herath, Sri Lanka’s no-nonsense, bribe-allergic Foreign Minister.
Let’s be clear: this is not the Maldives of yesteryear—the island idyll of romantic escapades and billionaire hideaways. Under President Mohamed Muizzu (or just “Moes” to his Western PR firm), the Maldives now wants to be both a beach resort and a geopolitical player. There’s a Chinese-financed airport runway here, an Indian radar system there, and in the middle of it all: 30,000 Sri Lankans currently working in their tourism sector, allegedly holding the economy together like duct tape on a leaky speedboat.
But wait—30,000 isn't enough, Masood says. They want 100,000 Sri Lankans in resorts, fisheries, industrial zones, and “special trade areas” that have allegedly been “free-zoned.” (We assume that means tax-free and not fact-free, though it’s often difficult to tell.) The High Commissioner, who has a reputation for sipping Ceylon tea while quoting Nehru and occasionally confusing Moldavia with Maldives, called this the beginning of a "new chapter" in bilateral relations.
A new chapter indeed. Let’s flip back a few pages.
Before this tale of regional brotherhood was penned, relations were more Kafka than Kipling. The previous Maldivian Director General of Immigration, one Shaman Waheed—no relation to any known deity but very much into divine retribution—presided over what many Sri Lankans referred to as a “pre-planned campaign of harassment.” In the name of immigration control, Sri Lankan professionals, technicians, even visiting uncles with gift-wrapped tupperware were stopped, interrogated, and occasionally offered that infamous choice: pay a bribe or miss your daughter’s birthday.
One such victim was Nadeesh Perera, a mild-mannered Sinhalese father who made the cardinal sin of marrying a Maldivian woman and attempting to visit his child. What followed was less border security and more bureaucratic sadism. Arrested, allegedly tortured, and denied legal access, Perera’s case became a rallying cry in Colombo for those who believe that sovereignty, like marriage, should come with mutual respect.
Luckily, Shaman Waheed is no more. Not dead—just disgraced. Removed from office, arrested on corruption charges, and now reportedly undergoing a Maldivian version of “rehabilitation” (we suspect this involves lengthy PowerPoint presentations on ethics and fewer opportunities to extort foreigners).
Back to Dr Muizzu. A curious figure, really. Fluent in Sinhala and Arabic, with a Sri Lankan stepmother, he seems genuinely eager to mend fences, though he occasionally does so with a bulldozer. His New Immigration Director General- recently met with Perera’s legal counsel and assured them—over strong coffee and stronger metaphors—that the new Maldives was committed to justice, transparency, and not extorting visiting Sri Lankans at the arrivals hall.
This, of course, was greeted with cautious optimism. After all, promises from Malé come cheap. Repayments, not so much. That $500 million loan? Still unpaid. And oddly, it’s not discussed during job announcements or press briefings. It’s like the expensive elephant in the (tropical-themed) room.
And yet, Imad insists: the jobs are real. The opportunities are abundant. The resorts are expanding. The fish need canning. The factories need hands. And Sri Lanka—blessed with skilled labour and cursed with low foreign reserves—is the natural partner.
Enter stage right: Hon. Vijitha Herath, a man who looks like he’s never laughed at a diplomatic joke and definitely never accepted a diplomatic bribe. Known for quoting Rohana Wijeweera more often than the Constitution, Herath reportedly met Imad with what one observer called “patriotic squinting.”
“There is no selling our people for promises,” he told aides afterwards. “And no Sri Lankan citizen will be humiliated at foreign airports without consequences.”
He was, of course, referring to a incident involving a Sri Lankan national who was stopped by Maldivian immigration officers, asked to pay a bribe, and—when he refused—was subjected to a series of low-grade intimidations that would make even Colombo’s Municipal Council blush. The man, reportedly visiting the Sri Lankan High Commission for work-related matters, later lodged a formal complaint and threatened legal action.
What followed was less apology, more passive-aggressive bureaucracy. The Maldivian immigration staff, not blessed with diplomatic immunity, allegedly tried to bully protestors outside the High Commission in Colombo. This was met with howls of laughter and several angry aunties from Gampaha wielding rolled-up Sunday newspapers.
“We are watching,” Sri Lanka’s Right Group’s spokesperson later said. “There are nearly 100,000 Maldivians in Sri Lanka. If they want reciprocity, we can give it to them—Sri Lankan style.”
And that’s the rub. While the Maldivian government may see Sri Lanka as a convenient labour market, they forget that this relationship cuts both ways. Colombo isn’t just an ATM machine for South Asian microstates. It’s a city that remembers who humiliated its people and who helped them during difficult times. And no amount of spa jobs or snorkelling tour guide positions will undo the damage of years of immigration racketeering.
Then there’s the small matter of that $500 million loan—a hefty sum obtained by one of Maldives' “state-owned” businesses, under sovereign guarantee, from a Sri Lankan state bank. One doesn’t need a PhD in regional finance to know this is essentially taxpayer money. And the taxpayers are beginning to ask uncomfortable questions.
Like: Should we be giving jobs to a country that hasn't paid its debts?
Or: Shouldn't we be using those funds to create jobs within Sri Lanka instead of subsidising Maldivian tourism?
And perhaps most damning: What exactly are we getting in return—apart from occasional harassment at immigration counters and promises written on coconuts?
In a region where money is tight, egos are inflated, and promises are as common as monsoon clouds, Sri Lanka and the Maldives remain intricately connected—by history, geography, marriage, and now, unpaid loans. The offer of 100,000 jobs may sound generous, even noble. But unless it’s accompanied by respect, reciprocity, and repayment, it risks becoming just another diplomatic gimmick—cheap labour dressed up as strategic partnership.
High Commissioner Masood Imad may mean well. He may even succeed in delivering a few thousand jobs and a few hundred tourist visas. But the real test of this so-called “brotherhood” lies not in employment statistics or ribbon-cutting ceremonies—but in how ordinary Sri Lankans are treated when they step off a flight in Malé.
Until then, the message from Colombo remains clear: pay your debts, fix your immigration, and spare us the drama.
We’ll keep the CVs ready. Just in case.
-By LeN Diplomatic Correspondent
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by (2025-06-02 19:33:11)
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