-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -12.Nov.2025, 5.45 AM) In what may be the most confusing academic project since a Sri Lankan brankrupted political party tried to teach ethics to politicians, the United National Party (UNP) has announced a new programme titled “Learn from Ranil.”
According to party insiders, the initiative aims to “share the wisdom, statesmanship, and leadership philosophy” of Former unelected President Ranil Wickremesinghe — a man who has spent nearly five decades in politics learning how not to win an election.
The announcement has prompted laughter, disbelief, and some light trauma across the island. “Learn from Ranil?” one opposition MP scoffed. “That’s like learning agriculture from a man who’s allergic to soil.”
To understand what this new “course” might include, one must look at Wickremesinghe’s distinguished career in the art of electoral self-destruction.
He became the leader of the UNP in 1994 after a series of political tragedies, defections, and the party’s general disintegration. Since then, the UNP has lost — and lost spectacularly — in every conceivable format: presidential elections, parliamentary elections, provincial elections, and even university mock debates.
Ranil’s career graph looks less like a political timeline and more like a descending stock market chart. Yet, in the grand tradition of Sri Lankan politics, defeat has never disqualified him — it has merely been rebranded as “experience.”
A senior UNP official explained, “Ranil is our longest-serving leader because nobody else wanted the job. You could say he’s the last man standing — mostly because everyone else left the room.”
Ranil’s entry into Parliament, too, was an act of divine political engineering. The late J. R. Jayewardene, the UNP’s patriarch, carved out a special electoral seat for him — Biyagama, a constituency as tailor-made for Wickremesinghe as a Savile Row suit.
The Wickremesinghe family’s historical ties to Kelaniya ensured a comfortable political inheritance. It was the ultimate example of dynastic democracy: a seat created not for the people, but for the pupil.
And thus began Ranil’s parliamentary career — not through a popular uprising, but through bureaucratic geography.
Ranil’s early days as Minister of Youth Affairs were supposed to symbolise vitality, energy, and engagement. Instead, they produced one of Sri Lanka’s most infamous hotel scandals — the Tangerine Beach Hotel incident.
During a beauty pageant event, a photo surfaced of the young minister with a Mrs. World contestant, leading to a minor uproar and a major misunderstanding. A photographer who attempted to capture the moment was allegedly attacked by Ranil’s bodyguard.
To this day, historians remain divided over what lesson was learned from that episode. Perhaps it was the first module in his new course: Lesson 1 — Handling the Press: Preferably by the Neck.
Wickremesinghe often describes himself as a “brilliant legal mind.” Indeed, he holds a law degree and, technically, is an attorney-at-law. But no one can quite recall him ever arguing a case.
Rumours circulate in Colombo that the only courtroom he has entered in the past 40 years was during a ceremonial photo opportunity and appeared before Magistrate court for Public fund misuse.
A professor of law once described Ranil’s legal career succinctly: “He’s the finest lawyer who never practised. He knows every law — except the one that applies to him.”
As Minister of Industry, Ranil’s tenure is remembered for what economists politely describe as “liberalisation fatigue” and what workers more accurately call “losing your job.”
He spearheaded privatisations that transferred many of the country’s industries into private — often friendly — hands. Factories closed, state-owned enterprises vanished, and the only industry left thriving was the production of ministerial speeches about reform.
“Ranil’s idea of industrial policy,” joked one former trade union leader, “was to privatise everything except his own chair.”
When confronted about his role during the 1980s anti-insurgency era, Wickremesinghe prefers selective amnesia.
As a young minister in J. R. Jayewardene’s government, he was part of an administration accused of severe human rights abuses — particularly against youth suspected of JVP affiliations. Torture camps, disappearances, and unlawful killings marred the period.
In one infamous interview with Al Jazeera’s Mehdi Hasan, Wickremesinghe visibly crumbled when pressed on these allegations. It was perhaps the only time he ever ran from a question rather than an election.
For the upcoming “Learn from Ranil” curriculum, the episode will likely feature as Lesson 2: Human Rights — A Retrospective Comedy.
If there is one skill every Sri Lankan politician might genuinely want to learn from Ranil, it’s political survival.
Despite losing more elections than any other living politician, he has managed to remain relevant through an exquisite blend of timing, silence, and opportunism.
When former President Gotabaya Rajapaksa fled the country amid mass protests in 2022, Ranil was the only man left in Colombo with both an ironed shirt and a working generator. The rest, as they say, is constitutional history.
He ascended to the presidency through parliamentary appointment — a victory not by vote, but by vacuum.
“Ranil’s genius,” one political analyst quipped, “is his ability to turn every national crisis into a personal promotion.”
Once in office, President Wickremesinghe quickly proved that he had learned from his predecessors — and improved upon their mistakes.
Within weeks, he authorised crackdowns on the Aragalaya protest movement, the same movement that had indirectly gifted him the presidency. Peaceful demonstrators were baton-charged, tear-gassed, and detained.
In the twisted logic of Sri Lankan politics, Ranil learned that democracy works best when citizens stop practising it.
In the “Learn from Ranil” programme, this may appear under Lesson 3: How to Silence the People Who Gave You Power.
There’s also a rumoured module called “Diplomacy and the Art of Publicly Funded Vacations.”
Ranil’s frequent trips abroad — particularly to London for “academic events” and “economic forums” — have raised eyebrows, and occasionally, parliamentary questions.
In one case, he reportedly attended a university conference using public funds. Asked about it, a government spokesman said, “The President was expanding his intellectual horizons.”
A senior citizen in Galle responded, “He should start by expanding the potholes in my road.”
For someone who lectures endlessly about democracy, Ranil has an extraordinary record of suppressing it — especially within his own party.
When Sajith Premadasa emerged as the natural successor to lead the UNP, Ranil’s first democratic instinct was to eject him. By 2020, Premadasa had formed the Samagi Jana Balawegaya (SJB), taking with him nearly the entire UNP voter base.
The once-mighty UNP was reduced to one national list seat — occupied, inevitably, by Wickremesinghe himself.
In the “Learn from Ranil” course, this might be Lesson 4: How to Empty a Party Without Leaving the Building.
No course on Ranil would be complete without a session on the Central Bank bond scandal — the country’s largest financial controversy in modern history.
During his tenure as Prime Minister, Wickremesinghe’s administration oversaw a bond auction that allegedly benefited his close allies. Billions of rupees evaporated into a haze of technical explanations and parliamentary committees.
Despite public outrage, no significant accountability followed. The scandal became a masterclass in bureaucratic escape artistry.
“Ranil didn’t just rewrite the rules,” said one economist. “He rewrote the dictionary definition of ‘conflict of interest.’
For all his contradictions, Ranil Wickremesinghe remains a uniquely durable figure. Like a political fossil, he has outlasted every regime, coup, and constitution.
At 76, he continues to project himself as the “moderniser,” the “technocrat,” and occasionally, the “saviour of democracy.” His admirers describe him as “brilliant,” “cerebral,” and “strategic.” His critics use slightly different words: “cold,” “arrogant,” and “indestructible.”
One long-time UNP member sighed, “Ranil is not a leader; he’s an institution that refuses to close down.”
As the UNP prepares to launch its new educational series, the public has begun drafting its own curriculum.
What Sri Lankans Have Learned from Ranil:
How to lose elections gracefully — and repeatedly.
How to talk about democracy while practising monarchy.
How to privatise industries and socialise the blame.
How to become President without winning a single vote.
How to crush protest movements while quoting Locke and Montesquieu.
How to remain relevant in politics by simply outliving your rivals.
It’s a syllabus no one asked for, but one that every Sri Lankan has been forced to study.
Equally important are the lessons to avoid:
Don’t use party loyalty as a personal inheritance.
Don’t weaponise intellect to justify arrogance.
Don’t claim to defend democracy while arresting demonstrators.
Don’t spend taxpayer money on “fact-finding missions” to Harrods.
And most importantly: don’t believe your own myth.
The irony, of course, is that the UNP’s new “Learn from Ranil” programme seems to have learned none of the above.
So here we are, in the twilight of a political dynasty that refuses to die, being told to “learn from Ranil.”
Perhaps the only genuine lesson the public can take away is this: how not to become Ranil.
If wisdom is measured by mistakes, then Ranil Wickremesinghe is Sri Lanka’s greatest philosopher. If political longevity is success, then he’s immortal. But if democracy still means something, perhaps it’s time he graduates — permanently — from public life.
As one witty student of politics remarked on social media:
“We’ve all been learning from Ranil for 30 years. That’s why the country’s still stuck in the same class.”
-By LeN Political Correspondent
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by (2025-11-12 00:24:43)
 Learn from Ranil)
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