-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -18.June.2025, 11.00 PM) The political phoenix of Sri Lankan finance, Ravi Karunanayake, rose yesterday from the ashes of scandal and silence to cast a thunderbolt of criticism at the NPP-led government’s renewable energy strategy, in a parliamentary intervention that startled some and amused others.
Known for his mercurial tenure as Finance Minister during the Yahapalanaya regime, which ended in disgrace following his alleged role in the now-infamous Central Bank bond scam and a controversial apartment purchase, Karunanayake re-entered the policy arena with uncharacteristic zeal. His target? The Anura Dissanayake administration’s apparently “schizophrenic” approach to renewable energy and national power planning.
“One day they hail solar, the next they blame it for blackouts,” Karunanayake declared, wagging his finger across the chamber as he took aim at what he described as the government's “high-voltage hypocrisy.”
The immediate backdrop to Karunanayake’s remarks was the February 9 nationwide blackout, a public embarrassment for the Ceylon Electricity Board (CEB) which hastily attributed the failure to solar power destabilising the grid. What followed, critics argue, was an absurd paradox: within days, the Ministry of Power and Energy issued tenders for 152 megawatts of new solar capacity across 18 sites.
“Is this a government that wants solar energy, or one that fears it?” Karunanayake asked. “If solar destabilises the grid, why are we inviting more? If solar is the future, why do we treat it like a criminal?”
His comments triggered murmurs on both sides of the aisle — not least because of their unexpected source. Karunanayake, long lampooned by his detractors as the architect of Sri Lanka’s “beer monopoly” through his cosy ties with Lion Brewery, was not previously known for his environmental advocacy. Nor was he ever a darling of the climate-conscious crowd. Yet, standing beneath the dome of Parliament, he appeared reborn — rebranded, even — as a champion of renewable energy reform.
Still, observers were quick to note the irony. As Finance Minister, Karunanayake’s own policies often favoured corporate giants over local innovation, and his alleged involvement in questionable business dealings is still fresh in the public memory. His political resurrection is part of a wider trend in Sri Lankan politics: the parade of once-disgraced politicians trying to seize the green mantle in an era where environmental credentials are fashionable — even necessary — for survival.
“This is the Ravi playbook,” said one political commentator. “Go missing for a few years, then reappear with a new cause. Last time it was fiscal discipline. Now it’s solar panels.”
Yet, for all the cynicism, Karunanayake did strike a chord — particularly on the issue of investor confidence. He argued that mixed messaging from the government is sending shockwaves through the investor community.
“You cannot condemn solar and then beg for solar investments. That’s not policy. That’s panic,” he said.
He noted that local companies, many of whom had spent the last decade quietly building small and medium-scale renewable projects, were now being squeezed out by large multinational corporations — ironically invited by the same government that proclaims to champion domestic industry.
“Why should a 5-megawatt solar project be handed to a foreign conglomerate when a Sri Lankan firm has done this before, and can do it again?” Karunanayake demanded. “Reserve the small-scale game for our people. Let the giants battle it out on the big fields.”
Karunanayake also ventured beyond solar and wind, delving into Sri Lanka’s long-delayed pivot to Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) — a fuel seen by many as a necessary transitional source in the island’s journey from coal and oil towards clean energy.
He lambasted the government’s failure to finalise import infrastructure or establish stable supply contracts, even as new LNG-powered plants were being approved. “This is like building a car factory before you know if you can import engines,” he quipped.
Indeed, Sri Lanka’s flirtation with LNG has been a story of bureaucratic paralysis. Successive governments have made pledges, launched feasibility studies, and invited proposals — but as of June 2025, not a single LNG import terminal is operational. The result is a vacuum: power plants with no fuel, and policies with no teeth.
One of Karunanayake’s sharpest jabs was reserved for what he described as the government’s “pathological dependence” on oil-fired power plants.
“We spend billions every year importing oil we can’t afford, while the sun and wind — which cost nothing — sit ignored,” he thundered. “It’s like owning a cow and buying milk at the corner shop.”
He accused entrenched interests within the CEB and associated ministries of deliberately sabotaging renewable energy projects to maintain the profitability of oil-based contracts — often awarded without transparency and insulated from scrutiny.
While the government has made public commitments to reach 70% renewable energy generation by 2030, actual progress remains anaemic. In 2024, the country still relied on thermal generation for more than 45% of its electricity needs, with solar contributing a meagre 4%.
Karunanayake also offered a prescient warning on the elephant in the room: electricity tariffs.
In March, under pressure from the IMF’s Extended Fund Facility, the government adopted a cost-reflective pricing model — a euphemism for frequent tariff hikes tied to fuel prices and system inefficiencies. Though rates were briefly lowered in April due to falling oil prices, Karunanayake warned that another increase was imminent.
“Let the Minister come clean. When will the next increase come? And how much more can our people pay?”
The government, predictably, denied any such plans. But utility insiders whisper of a planned hike in August — a politically explosive move ahead of local government elections, particularly as the cost of living remains high and unemployment continues to climb.
Karunanayake’s re-emergence has reignited debate over not just energy, but the role of political accountability in Sri Lanka. Though many applauded the substance of his speech, others questioned the messenger.
“This is the same man who introduced the wholesale alcohol licence scheme that strengthened monopolies,” said one opposition MP. “He may be speaking sense now, but where was this vision when he was in charge?”
Others were more generous. “Politics is about learning. Perhaps the Ravi of 2025 is not the Ravi of 2015,” said a renewable energy entrepreneur who has clashed with government red tape. “If he’s willing to fight for a consistent policy that helps local developers, then more power to him — literally.”
Unsurprisingly, the NPP administration brushed aside the critique. Power and Energy Minister Tharaka Balasuriya accused Karunanayake of “seeking cheap headlines while offering no solutions.” He defended the solar tenders, stating that the government was “balancing technical realities with investor interest.”
“Grid integration is a real issue,” Balasuriya said. “We are not anti-solar. We are pro-stability.”
He also dismissed the notion of reserving sub-10MW projects exclusively for local firms as “anti-competitive” and “legally questionable under WTO rules.”
But the political blow has landed. For a government already accused of dithering on energy reform, Karunanayake’s intervention — no matter how tainted by past sins — has stoked a new urgency. With fuel prices volatile and the IMF watching, the government has precious little room for error. And as one analyst dryly noted, “If Ravi Karunanayake is the voice of clean energy sanity, it tells you just how confused the government’s message really is.”
-By LeN Political Correspondent
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by (2025-06-18 19:08:50)
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