By Sunil Gamini Jayalathge
(Lanka-e-News -04.July.2025, 11.00 PM) In the grand machinery of state, few components are as powerful—or as potentially destructive—as the public service. This vast bureaucratic organism is entrusted with steering the country’s economic and social trajectory. When it is efficient, it becomes an engine for national progress. But when it is lethargic, corrupt, and bloated, it becomes a deadweight dragging the nation into decline.
Ask an average Sri Lankan about the public sector, and the response is unlikely to be flattering. The prevailing social sentiment views it as corrupt, inefficient, and riddled with indolence. This perception is not entirely unfounded—yet, it is only a half-truth.
Yes, for the past four decades, a significant segment of public servants—across ministries, departments, and local offices—have indeed engaged in bribery, misappropriation, and outright theft. From the upper echelons of administration to the lowest rungs, there exists a culture of looting public resources with impunity.
But let us not forget the other half: a large number of public servants still strive to discharge their duties with integrity and competence, despite systemic constraints. This invisible cohort remains the spine of whatever functionality the state still possesses.
Excluding employees in state-owned enterprises (SOEs), Sri Lanka’s public service—including civil servants and members of the armed forces—employs 1,146,985 individuals. In 2023, Rs. 627.5 billion was spent on salaries for civil servants, and Rs. 312 billion on defence personnel. Combined, public sector salaries accounted for 31% of the government's annual revenue—a staggering commitment for a country facing persistent fiscal woes.
To contextualise further: one in every seven employed Sri Lankans is a public servant, and one in every twenty Sri Lankans is on the state payroll. This means nearly a third of the state’s revenue goes to just 5% of the population.
With such immense human capital and financial outlay, shouldn’t the public service be the most potent tool for economic transformation?
The core question isn’t simply whether we’re spending too much—but whether we’re receiving value in return. Are we utilising this enormous workforce and their accompanying expenditure to drive GDP growth, productivity, and development?
Clearly, we are not.
Instead of scapegoating state employees en masse, we must ask: Why has Sri Lanka failed to convert this expenditure into measurable national benefits? The solution lies not in cost-cutting alone but in a strategic reorganisation of the public service to improve efficiency, transparency, and accountability.
Properly reformed, the public sector could be the very catalyst for transforming Sri Lanka’s economic fortunes. The machinery exists—it simply needs oiling, tightening, and direction. But to realise this potential, a sweeping and unapologetic transformation is imperative.
Such a transformation cannot stop at cosmetic shuffles of departmental heads. It must be system-wide: across ministries, boards, commissions, corporations, and even provincial offices. And it must be carried out with courage, despite inevitable backlash from vested interests.
Resistance is certain. Trade unions, political opportunists, and entrenched mafias within departments will mount their defences. But their cries must not deter progress. Instead, political leaders and civil society must rally around the message that reform is not only necessary but patriotic.
When the public service is clean and competent, the impact is seismic. Agriculture, education, public transport, healthcare, and innovation—all stand to benefit immensely. National productivity will rise. The informal economy can be formalised. Policy implementation becomes more coherent and consistent.
In short, a capable state can do what no private enterprise or foreign donor ever could: build an enduring foundation for prosperity.
Consider the agricultural sector. While it formally falls under the Ministry of Agriculture, at least six other ministries intersect with its work: fisheries, commerce, plantation, environment, irrigation, and science and technology. Across all these, thousands of officers and officials are tasked with promoting research, productivity, regulation, and education.
Yet the ground reality is appalling.
Farmers languish in poverty, caught in cycles of debt, protest, and abandonment. Quality seeds are scarce. Fertiliser subsidies are inconsistent. Weather patterns are ignored. Market cycles are misunderstood. Prices are unregulated. And worst of all, the advice meant to guide them—when it does arrive—is either irrelevant or outdated.
This is not due to a lack of officials. In fact, Sri Lanka’s agricultural sector is flooded with bureaucrats attending workshops, seminars, and training both here and abroad. Millions are spent. Reports are written. Yet nothing filters down to the fields. The result? An increasingly disillusioned farming community and an underperforming sector that drags the entire economy down with it.
And here lies the deeper malaise.
Even when honest officials come forward with evidence of corruption—some backed by documentation and audiovisual proof—many politically appointed heads of institutions do nothing. These directors often shield their corrupt subordinates, either out of allegiance, fear, or complicity.
The myth that an honest minister can clean up a corrupt department is dangerously naive. These ministries have been plundered for decades. The bureaucrats involved are not only skilled at technical manipulation but are often better networked and more informed than their nominal political superiors. Some have even succeeded in capturing newly appointed heads, ensuring continuity of graft.
Unless this bureaucratic mafia is dismantled—decisively and transparently—public administration cannot become a development force.
A revolutionary transformation must begin—not in the abstract, but in clear, measurable terms. Ministries must be assessed not by how much they spend, but by what they deliver. Public officials must be evaluated by output, not seniority. Pay and perks must be tied to measurable progress. Training must translate into results on the ground.
This transformation must be pursued without fear or delay. Any government, of any ideology, which attempts to govern Sri Lanka without undertaking this revolution will fail—just as its predecessors did. No developmental goal, no IMF programme, no foreign investment target can be achieved unless the public service is first reengineered.
Yes, we now see politicians who are less involved in direct corruption. That is welcome. But it is not sufficient.
The corrupt bureaucracy will not suddenly reform itself out of respect for a clean cabinet. If anything, these officials will redirect their influence and attempt to manipulate new political appointees who lack institutional experience.
The state needs more than clean ministers. It needs clean systems.
To raise productivity, reduce poverty, and reboot the Sri Lankan economy, the public service must be reimagined—not in parts, but as a whole. Every second we delay this revolution, the country sinks deeper into stagnation.
Let us be clear: no government—be it Anura’s or anyone else’s—can uplift the nation without this transformation. Without it, the dream of a prosperous, equitable Sri Lanka will remain forever out of reach.
-Sunil Gamini Jayalathge is a writer and commentator on public administration and institutional reform.
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by (2025-07-04 22:54:39)
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