In the wake of political upheaval, it is tempting to blame the puppets on the stage while ignoring the marionettes pulling the strings.
by Laxman Aravind
In the aftermath of political turmoil, Sri Lanka finds itself caught in a vicious cycle of deception, with the National People’s Power (NPP) party presenting a leadership characterised by superficial rhetoric and a profound lack of substance. This is not merely an examination of party politics; it is a damning indictment of the collective ignorance that seems to grip the electorate. The rise of the NPP’s presidential candidate, now the ninth president of Sri Lanka, is emblematic of a deeper malaise—an unsettling phenomenon wherein a population remains enraptured by empty promises, sacrificing their capacity for critical thought on the altar of charismatic oratory.
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| Nilanthi Kottahachchi, a master of monologue in the NPP’s propaganda machinery, whose recent proclamations illustrate the absurdity of the current political discourse. [Image Courtesy: NPP Media] |
The NPP’s ascendance is predicated on two insidious factors: a relentless propaganda machine and the pervasive egocentrism that suffocates meaningful political discourse. Their campaign has been an exercise in manipulation, utilising every conceivable medium—from glossy posters to viral social media posts—to sway public sentiment. It is an alarming reminder of Pascal’s assertion that “the greatest minds are capable of the greatest vices as well as of the greatest virtues.” In a climate where political narratives eclipse reason, the ability to deceive becomes a sought-after skill, elevating charlatans while leaving the populace in a state of stupor.
This leads to a disconcerting truth: the Sri Lankan electorate appears to be willingly complicit in its own deception. As the country teetered on the brink of bankruptcy, the very politicians who steered it towards disaster were unceremoniously cast aside in favour of new leaders who, despite their lack of experience or competence, wield the allure of fresh promises. The irony is as rich as it is tragic; like Churchill post-war, those who navigate crises often find themselves discarded, replaced by figures who, devoid of true vision, merely offer a different brand of empty rhetoric.
Consider Nilanthi Kottahachchi, a master of monologue in the NPP’s propaganda machinery, whose recent proclamations illustrate the absurdity of the current political discourse. Her plans for an asset restoration institution sound commendable but are ultimately vapid in the face of pressing national crises. When she speaks of recovering funds allegedly stored in Uganda by former Rajapaksa regimes, one cannot help but question the audacity of such claims. Does she genuinely believe that a government, which has repeatedly failed to confront systemic issues, could effortlessly reclaim hidden assets abroad? Not really. Two weeks after the new president assumed duty, she is now eyeing a parliamentary seat, confessing that she knows nothing but the whole truth about this Ugandan saga, yet deceived the public by lying to them. An attorney by profession, does she have no shame? Or is it the people who lack it? Do you think these so-called reformists will serve the country, or will they lead it to the brink of an abyss while the majority remain in deep slumber? It is a spectacle of delusion, reminiscent of Chekhov’s assertion that “man will only be better when you make him see what he is, and not what he should be.” The disconnect between political promises and reality is staggering.
In her attempts to justify the NPP’s actions, Kottahachchi mirrors the very absurdities she seeks to condemn. The superficiality of her rhetoric, filled with grandiose claims, belies a deeper truth: she, like many others, is doing exactly what most traditional politicians do, albeit in different forms and with different tricks—entraping the public and ensnaring them in a relentless cycle of self-deception in critical political decisions and theatrical posturing. This manipulation leads to a distortion of reality, resulting in politically stupid decisions that serve only the interests of those in power. In other words, this group of deceivers is nothing but the other side of the same coin, where most clowns believe that the place will turn into a kingdom when the clowns are enthroned. It is shocking to consider how easily the electorate has fallen prey to such manipulations. Lincoln’s assertion that “you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time” resonates painfully in this context. For the people of Sri Lanka, however, it appears that the vast majority remain content to be fooled, willingly surrendering their critical faculties in the face of convenient narratives.
As this new form of shamelessness takes root in Sri Lanka, the alarming reality is that the electorate is seemingly immune to the lessons of history. The superficial gestures, like the recent announcement of providing 50 million rupees to those affected by floods, only serve to highlight the immaturity of a reactive political environment. Is this what the people of Sri Lanka have come to accept? According to the Disaster Management Center, 152,424 people belonging to 39,123 families in 12 districts and 80 divisional secretariats have been affected by the bad weather. So far, three people have died due to the disaster, and one total house loss along with 318 partial house losses has been reported. Additionally, 7,918 people are staying in 69 shelters, with 1,927 families affected by the disaster. The Gampaha district has been the most affected, with 20,553 families and 82,839 people impacted. Meanwhile, the Disaster Management Center reports that flood disaster relief teams have been deployed for relief work in the flooded areas. To calculate how much each affected person could receive from the 50 million rupees, we find that with 152,424 affected individuals, each person would receive approximately 328.26 rupees (about 1.12 dollars), emphasizing the inadequacy of such relief efforts and highlighting the immaturity of the leadership. Yet, these are earlier symptoms of what is to come.
A governance model that is reactionary rather than proactive, addressing symptoms rather than the underlying malaise? The spectacle of politicians engaging in petty squabbles while national issues languish unaddressed raises an urgent question: how much longer can this charade continue before the very fabric of society unravels? The forthcoming parliamentary elections will serve as a litmus test for the populace’s capacity to discern truth from fiction. The political landscape is replete with empty promises and hollow aspirations, yet the electorate seems paralyzed by an enduring allegiance to illusion over reality. Nietzsche’s observation that “sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed” rings painfully true in this context.
It is evident that these propagandists have mastered the art of deception, skillfully diverting attention away from the pressing structural issues plaguing society. Instead of engaging in meaningful dialogue about reform and collective responsibility, they inundate the public with a cacophony of noise, effectively drowning out any critical discourse.
The reality is stark and unforgiving: the current political climate is a reflection of a populace that has willingly embraced ignorance, allowing itself to be lulled into complacency by a parade of empty rhetoric. The resurrection of the old guard is not just a failure of leadership; it is a profound indictment of a society that appears all too ready to accept mediocrity in place of merit. The imperative for the citizens of Sri Lanka is to awaken from this stupor, to rise up against the political theatre that serves only to distract and deceive. The question remains: will the people of Sri Lanka finally demand something more substantial than the perfumed promises of politicians who seem more concerned with their narratives than the realities of governance? The answer to this question will shape the nation’s future.
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