-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -07.May.2025, 11.20 PM) In what could only be described as a political remake of Yes Minister, the former Director General of Public Relations under ex-President Ranil Wickremesinghe has recently emerged from the shadows of irrelevance—only to stumble straight into a scandal of his own making. Mr Thusitha Haloluwa, once tasked with making Ranil look more electable (a Sisyphean feat if there ever was one), has taken it upon himself to hurl a Molotov cocktail of fantastical allegations at the sitting President, Anura Kumara Dissanayake.
Alas, Mr Haloluwa's remarks have boomeranged with such glorious vengeance that even his mentor Ranil may consider briefly waking from his political coma to pretend he doesn't know the man.
Haloluwa’s verbal detonation took place on the steps of the Colombo courthouse, having just secured bail in a case involving—what else?—unauthorised removal of government property. Specifically, an iPhone and a MacBook belonging to the National Lottery Board. One assumes he thought these to be perks of office, along with the nation’s patience.
But why stop at Apple products? No, Thusitha went the full David Icke. In a bizarre, breathless rant, he accused President Anura of receiving four billion rupees from a member of the Tamil diaspora linked to the LTTE. The funds, he claimed, had been funnelled into a shipping company in Greece. That’s right, from Greek shipping magnates to Sri Lankan ballot boxes—it’s an international thriller written by someone who thinks Die Hard is a documentary.
But wait, there’s more. Thusitha also claimed that under Anura’s administration, customs had allegedly released 300 containers containing drugs, gold, and firearms. Not one or two. Three hundred. One wonders if he’s been watching too many reruns of Narcos.
Now, let us pause for basic arithmetic—something Mr Haloluwa evidently skipped in school. Three hundred containers, if divided equally, would give us 100 of drugs, 100 of gold, and 100 of guns. That’s more firepower than the Sri Lankan military, more gold than Fort Knox, and more drugs than Pablo Escobar’s wet dreams.
And somehow, all this passed through Sri Lankan customs like a breeze, unnoticed by port officials, journalists, or even nosy uncles in Galle Face Green. Really, if anyone believes this, Haloluwa’s next job should be at Marvel Studios.
Now to the juiciest bit—President Anura, a man who still wears the same ironed shirt from his JVP protest days, is apparently the richest man in Sri Lankan politics, according to Haloluwa. The accusation? That he personally invested Rs. 4 billion (about £16 million) in a Greek shipping company via a member of the Tamil diaspora. One might ask: if the President is that wealthy, why is his son working as a waiter on SriLankan Airlines rather than running the mythical family shipping empire?
This is where the narrative collapses under its own idiocy. If Anura really had this alleged LTTE-funded investment in maritime empires, surely the son would be ferrying yachts across the Aegean, not passing meal trays over the Indian Ocean.
Of course, what makes Haloluwa’s tale not just ridiculous but dangerous is its deliberate ethnic provocation. To drag the LTTE and the Tamil diaspora into the conversation just days before a provincial election is not only irresponsible—it’s incitement. Sri Lanka, a country still healing from decades of conflict, does not need another incendiary narrative aimed at polarising its people.
Accusing the sitting President of colluding with the LTTE diaspora isn’t just defamatory. It’s a flaming match thrown into a room soaked in communal tensions. It is this precise kind of rhetoric that should be met with legal consequences—not just to punish, but to deter others from weaponising ethnicity for political gain.
As one prominent lawyer, Akalanka Ukwatta, made clear in a formal complaint filed with the CID, Haloluwa’s baseless accusations could damage the President’s reputation and stir unnecessary disharmony between communities. In a world where disinformation spreads faster than dengue, this kind of reckless talk demands accountability.
Among the other curiosities Haloluwa offered was the assertion that under the current administration, no businessperson who refuses to pay bribes can expect any government support. This would be shocking—had there been even a single credible allegation or formal complaint to support it. But the media house Lanka e News, not exactly known for its affection toward the government, declared it had received no such complaints from the business community. Quite the opposite, in fact.
One leading entrepreneur (whose identity is an open secret among the business elite) even said:
“Machang, I don’t even know how much money I paid the Rajapaksas over the years. Bribery was a given. But under this administration, I haven’t had to pay a cent. I didn’t even help them come into power, yet I can operate freely.”
Let us pause here. This is Sri Lanka. A businessman voluntarily admitting he hasn't paid bribes? That in itself is more revolutionary than any Marxist manifesto.
So how did we get here? How did a former PR man become a one-man conspiracy engine, spewing tales of drugs, guns, Greek fleets, and Tamil terrorists? It may be that having left the employ of one of Sri Lanka’s most forgettable presidents, Mr Haloluwa has felt the chilly wind of irrelevance nipping at his collar. In an age where outrage is currency, he’s cashed in all his chips on wild accusations.
Yet it’s not just Haloluwa. A few shadowy media figures—those addicted to likes and views—dutifully echoed his statements on social media, giving oxygen to his nonsense. One could argue they too should be held accountable, if only to stop them from turning Facebook into a national security threat.
In a rather composed but firm statement, the President’s Media Division confirmed that a complaint had been filed with the CID against Haloluwa and those responsible for amplifying his statements. It emphasised that the President’s good name had been unfairly dragged through the mud and that an immediate investigation should follow.
The complaint was lodged on behalf of President Anura by his legal counsel, Akalanka Ukwatta, and backed by Presidential Counsel Upul Kumarapperuma. It is now up to the CID to determine whether this is simply a case of free speech gone berserk—or a deliberate attempt to destabilise public trust in government institutions.
While much of what Haloluwa says reads like a satirical sketch from Have I Got News for You, the consequences are no laughing matter. In a fragile democracy where communal harmony is as delicate as the economy, even the most absurd lies can sow division and paranoia.
If there is a lesson here, it is this: freedom of speech is not freedom from consequence. When you accuse a President of laundering billions through terrorist-linked diaspora and doing business with ghostly Greek fleets, you’d better have more than a dodgy MacBook and an ex-boss with a declining approval rating.
Or as one retired diplomat put it, “This is what happens when you confuse a gossip column with a press conference.”
-By LeN Political Correspondent
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by (2025-05-07 20:58:48)
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