Many Presidents, Few People: The Absurdity of Sri Lanka’s Political Circus

These 27 folks must remember, when clowns go to the palace, the place doesn't become a kingdom but a circus.

Editorial

Alas, 27 folks are in line to become the next President of Sri Lanka in the upcoming elections scheduled for 21 September. Among this bulk group, at least two are Buddhist monks, and yet, no woman has stepped forward so far. This is nothing short of a global joke—27 candidates for a country with just 22 million people. This absurdity not only undermines the sanctity of the democratic process but also highlights the extent to which the system is being manipulated for personal gain. These 27 folks must remember, when clowns go to the palace, the place doesn’t become a kingdom but a circus.

Election Commissioner General Saman Sri Ratnayake’s recent revelation strikes a nerve that resonates far beyond Sri Lanka’s borders. The cost of democracy, as he outlined, is no longer merely an abstract concept; it is a tangible burden on the people. Each additional candidate in the presidential election, he warns, will cost the nation a staggering 200 million rupees—a price the people of Sri Lanka cannot afford to pay.

A woman sells Sri Lankan flags on a road ahead of independence celebrations in February 2020.

This isn’t just a financial burden; it’s a betrayal of the very principles that democracy is supposed to uphold. As Ratnayake stated, “It is the money of the people of this country.” And yet, it is being squandered by a cavalcade of opportunists, each more eager than the last to siphon off resources that should be used to lift the nation from its economic woes. This spectacle of excess and self-interest is not unique to Sri Lanka; it is a grim reflection of a global crisis where democracy is too often exploited by the few at the expense of the many.

The history of democracy is littered with examples of how the system can be manipulated by those more interested in personal gain than in the public good. In ancient Rome, the Republic fell to pieces when wealthy elites and populists used their influence to gain power, disregarding the needs of the citizenry. Julius Caesar’s rise to power was facilitated by a similar culture of political opportunism and self-interest. The Republic’s collapse serves as a cautionary tale: when the mechanisms of democracy are abused, the cost is often the very democracy itself.


Consider the words of Alexis de Tocqueville, who warned in the 19th century that “the American Republic will endure until the day Congress discovers that it can bribe the public with the public’s money.” While Tocqueville was speaking of the United States, his observation is equally relevant today. The ability of a candidate to exploit public funds for their campaign is tantamount to bribery, a betrayal of the democratic trust.

In recent years, democracies across the world have been shaken by the same forces at work in Sri Lanka today. In the United States, the Citizens United ruling of 2010 allowed unlimited corporate spending on elections, leading to a flood of candidates backed by vast sums of money. The result has been a political landscape dominated by those with the financial resources to buy influence, while the voices of ordinary citizens are drowned out. The cost to democracy has been profound, as faith in the system erodes and cynicism grows.


Similarly, in India, the world’s largest democracy, the rise of political dynasties and the proliferation of candidates from every possible faction have led to a fractured political landscape where governance is often sacrificed on the altar of electoral ambition. The 2024 general election saw approximately 8,360 candidates, the highest since 1996, vying for just 545 seats in the Lok Sabha, many of whom were more interested in the perks of office than in public service. The cost, both financial and social, was enormous.

In the United Kingdom, the Brexit referendum of 2016 was marred by misinformation and opportunistic politicians who placed personal ambition above national interest. The result has been years of economic uncertainty and political turmoil, a stark reminder that when democracy is subverted by greed and self-interest, the consequences can be catastrophic.


As if the situation with the presidential election were not dire enough, Sri Lanka is also facing the prospect of conducting parliamentary elections for 225 seats in Parliament. The financial implications are staggering for a country that declared bankruptcy just two years ago. With total debt now amounting to an eye-watering 100 billion USD, the nation is teetering on the edge of economic ruin. And yet, the democratic process, which should be a means of recovery and rebuilding, risks becoming another drain on the nation’s already depleted resources.

Sri Lanka’s bankruptcy in 2022 should have been a turning point, a moment of reckoning where the country reevaluated its priorities and made difficult but necessary choices to secure its future. Instead, the political landscape remains cluttered with self-serving candidates, each one adding to the financial burden that the people must bear. The idea of spending hundreds of millions of rupees on what is essentially a democratic charade is not just absurd—it is an insult to every Sri Lankan struggling to make ends meet.

Sri Lanka stands at a crossroads. The absurdity of the current situation, where a presidential election threatens to become a free-for-all, is not just a national embarrassment; it is a crisis. As Commissioner Ratnayake warned, “Those who love the country should think about it.” Indeed, this is a moment for all Sri Lankans to reflect on what kind of democracy they want—a democracy where the people’s money is respected and used wisely, or one where it is frittered away by those with no real commitment to the nation’s future.

It is time for Sri Lanka to learn from history and from the experiences of other democracies. The country cannot afford to continue down this path, where the costs of democracy are borne by the many, while the benefits are reaped by the few. The people must demand a more responsible and accountable political process, one that serves the public good rather than the private interests of a handful of candidates.

As we look ahead to the upcoming elections, let us not allow this absurdity to become the norm. Democracy should be a tool for the people, not a toy for the powerful. It is high time to reclaim the true spirit of democracy—one that values the voices of the people and puts the nation’s welfare above all else. The future of Sri Lanka depends on it.