Union Actions Contradict Public Statements as Doctors’ Demands Come Under Scrutiny
(Lanka-e-News -21.Nov.2025, 10.10 PM) The Government Medical Officers’ Association (GMOA), long accused by its critics of behaving more like an obstinate political pressure group than a professional medical union, has once again plunged Sri Lanka’s health system into turmoil. This time, the uproar erupted within days of President Anura Kumara Dissanayake presenting the 2026 Budget — a moment that, almost by ritual, has become followed by threats of industrial action from the country’s most vocal doctors’ union.
On 11 November, the GMOA announced that the health sector and medical professionals had been “ignored” in the new Budget, and insisted the President must meet them to address multiple challenges — from shortages in essential medicines and equipment, to the chronic human-resource crisis in state hospitals. They claimed the public was being denied even the most basic standards of patient care.
The union warned that failure to obtain “acceptable solutions” would result in a series of escalating trade union actions. Among their stated measures were:
Publicising their grievances among political parties and the general public.
Refusing to issue endorsement slips for patients to purchase unavailable drugs or laboratory tests from outside.
Withdrawing from medical camps and outreach clinics.
Declining to accept postings to newly created wards and units.
Withdrawing from patient examinations where privacy and basic facilities were deemed inadequate.
The list sounded, at least publicly, like a principled stand on behalf of patients and professionals alike.
But events that followed told a different story.
Despite these high-minded public declarations, reports emerged that when union leaders met President Dissanayake in person, the demands they placed before him were of a strikingly different nature. According to official accounts, the GMOA requested:
An increase of Rs. 50,000 to the DAT allowance.
The conversion of the 120-hour on-call allowance into a permanent salary component.
The restoration of the vehicle permit scheme for medical officers.
Provision of an official vehicle, a driver, and a fuel allowance.
In other words, the demands — critics argue — shifted sharply from hospital concerns to personal benefits.
The President is said to have clarified that these requests were financially impossible given the country’s economic condition. The union, dissatisfied, decided to forge ahead with its industrial action, launching disruptions that over the past several days have placed severe burdens on patients across the country.
In several major hospitals, union activists circulated claims online about severe shortages of medicines and equipment — some of which health authorities later described as “exaggerated or misleading.” Outpatient departments and specialist clinics saw restrictions imposed on patient consultations, while some clinics were suspended entirely, leaving thousands of patients stranded.
The most shocking escalation occurred at the Maharagama Cancer Hospital, where doctors treating some of the nation’s most vulnerable patients reported direct pressure from union representatives. According to hospital staff, GMOA-linked officers personally visited clinics and urged doctors to curtail services, even where interruption could endanger the lives of oncology patients.
Such intervention, unprecedented in Sri Lanka’s medical history, has prompted outrage not only among the public but also among senior physicians who view the move as a violation of the most fundamental principles of medical ethics.
Hospitals in Karapitiya, Ampara and elsewhere also reported that patients arriving at OPD and specialist clinics were screened, limited, or in some cases turned away, leading to severe delays in care.
Several of the union’s chosen actions appear to collide head-on with the foundational ethics of the medical profession. A number of patients have already lodged complaints with the Sri Lanka Medical Council (SLMC), alleging that disruptions — particularly at the Maharagama Cancer Hospital — constitute deliberate obstruction of care.
Legal action is reportedly being prepared by affected families, who argue that manipulating treatment schedules for cancer patients amounts to inhumane and unethical conduct.
The government has been quick to note that only months ago, sweeping pay increases were granted to doctors of all grades — ranging from Rs. 40,000 to Rs. 80,000 — during the previous Budget. In addition, the 2026 Budget restored the pension eligibility of nearly 15,000 medical officers who lost that entitlement in 2016.
A low-interest property loan facility of up to Rs. 5 million was also introduced exclusively for medical professionals.
The Ministry of Health further argues that many of the problems raised by the GMOA — especially regarding drug shortages — stemmed from procurement delays earlier in the year but have since been resolved. Recruitment of health staff, halted for several years, has restarted, and steps are being taken to rebuild capacity in critical care and emergency services.
To many observers, therefore, the union’s sudden return to aggressive industrial action appears puzzling — or, as some critics contend, politically motivated.
The most severe criticism levelled against the union is that its actions amount to the weaponisation of healthcare, using the suffering of patients — including cancer patients — as bargaining chips in negotiations for allowances and perks.
Public anger has been especially directed at incidents in Maharagama, where a senior GMOA-affiliated officer, identified by colleagues as “Dr. Malaka,” (in a picture) is alleged to have pressured doctors to reduce patient services during oncology clinics. Photographs circulating online show him speaking to doctors while visibly distressed patients waited outside.
Union critics claim he is positioning himself for a leadership role within the GMOA, and accuse him of prioritising internal political ambitions over patient welfare. Supporters of the union deny this and argue that disruptions are necessary to force the government to address long-standing concerns.
For decades, the GMOA has projected itself as the guardian of Sri Lanka’s public health system, often clashing with governments of all colours. Yet the union also carries a long history of political entanglements, and critics argue its strikes tend to coincide mysteriously with broader political power struggles in the country.
At a time when the government has significantly increased doctors’ salaries, restored their pensions, and is expanding hospital capacity, many observers see this latest confrontation as a manufactured political battle rather than a medical one.
The government insists it will not be held hostage by a handful of activist doctors.
Public frustration — especially among patients and their families — is reaching a breaking point.
And the wider medical community, often quiet during GMOA-led disruptions, is now being forced to decide whether the union’s tactics reflect the values of the profession.
The images emerging from Maharagama — children with cancer waiting helplessly while clinic schedules are disrupted — have struck a national nerve. For many Sri Lankans, these scenes cut through the political rhetoric and expose the human cost of union brinkmanship.
If the allegations against certain GMOA officers are confirmed, it would represent not just a breach of professional ethics but a fundamental betrayal of the oath every doctor takes when entering the profession.
As one senior oncologist put it privately:
“No doctor has the moral right to use a cancer patient as a weapon.”
If true, these actions cannot be dismissed as routine union pressure.
They demand accountability.
The government now faces the task of balancing negotiation with firm action.
A full confrontation risks further disruption in the already strained health sector.
But capitulating to demands that the state cannot afford would set a dangerous precedent.
Ordinary citizens, especially the sick and the poor, have become collateral damage in a power struggle that appears far removed from their wellbeing.
For many, this episode reinforces a long-standing belief:
that Sri Lanka’s health system — once celebrated — is being undermined not just by economic crisis but by internal fractures within its own professional ranks.
As the crisis deepens, one message continues to echo across the country:
“The people must come forward.”
-By a Special Correspondent
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by (2025-11-21 16:29:27)
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