By Our Political Editor
The passing of veteran actress Malini Fonseka cast a long emotional shadow over the nation last week. Known as the “Queen of Sinhala Cinema,” her death triggered a wave of tributes across the country. Fans, filmmakers, and fellow artists remembered not just Malini the actress but also Malini the woman — dignified, enduring, and deeply committed to her craft and culture. Her legacy in the arts is beyond question, and the void left behind is undeniable.
But as the public sincerely mourned, the funeral space morphed into a political stage. A delicate moment of national reflection was overtaken by theatrics, where some politicians acted like actors, and some actors dabbled in politics. It was, at times, less about remembering a national icon and more about claiming relevance, using a woman’s life as a backdrop for power posturing.
The public was quick to notice, and critics didn’t hold back, especially after past controversial remarks made by the cabinet spokesperson, Nalinda Jayatissa. The funeral discourse became heavily politicised, with analysts describing the moment as another sign of how Sri Lanka’s political class struggles to separate grief from gamesmanship.
Meanwhile, away from the cameras and floral wreaths, a delegation from Sri Lanka quietly landed in Washington, D.C., for perhaps the most consequential economic mission of the year: negotiating a way out of the tariff war triggered by the U.S. under President Donald Trump’s administration.
Deputy Finance Minister Harshana Suriyapperuma, backed by Central Bank Governor Nandalal Weerasinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s top economic advisor Duminda Hulangamuwa, who had notably remained silent in recent months, headed the delegation. Also playing a key role was Ambassador Mahinda Samarasinghe, a former minister with deep roots in both the Rajapaksa and Wickremesinghe administrations. Samarasinghe’s diplomatic capital in Washington proved valuable despite his past allegiances as the delegation began its crucial talks.
The stakes were high. Sri Lankan exporters have already started feeling the pain of U.S. tariffs. Textiles, rubber, and tea industries—the lifeblood of the country’s foreign exchange earnings—have all reported setbacks. The ripple effects on jobs, investment, and currency stability could be severe if the government fails to secure a favourable outcome. All eyes are on Washington, and for once, the political class in Colombo seems to understand the seriousness of the mission.
That mission and the public expectation surrounding it gave the Dissanayake administration a rare breather after months of relentless scrutiny. Following a disappointing local government election and plummeting voter confidence, the focus on economic diplomacy brought a narrative shift and some breathing space.
And then, in a dramatic twist, the government scored its most significant legal victory yet in its war against corruption.
On Thursday, former Sports Minister Mahindananda Aluthgamage was sentenced to 20 years of rigorous imprisonment over a case involving the distribution of carrom boards to sports clubs during the 2015 presidential campaign. The courts ruled it a misuse of public funds—a clear example of election-time bribery under the guise of public service.
But the surprise didn’t end there. Alongside Aluthgamage, Nalin Fernando, once the Chairman of Sathosa and later a minister under President Ranil Wickremesinghe from 2022 to 2024, was handed a 25-year sentence for his role in the same case.
Though the case dates back to 2017, the verdict landed at a crucial moment for President Dissanayake’s administration. It came not from political vengeance but through due judicial process—precisely the outcome his government promised to deliver during the 2024 election campaign.
For many within the government, this was a win and a message. It sends a message to the country that no one is above the law and that long-pending corruption cases are finally seeing daylight. For the opposition, it sent a chilling signal. Many politicians under investigation or facing charges are reassessing their legal and political strategies. The fear is real—and perhaps for the first time in years, the political culture is starting to shift under the weight of accountability.
Of course, critics will argue that these verdicts came at a convenient time for the government, as it reels from electoral setbacks and rising public frustration. But even so, justice served is justice nonetheless, and it offers a rare moment of clarity and hope for ordinary citizens who have long watched political corruption go unpunished.
This week, then, was a study in contrasts. National mourning mixed with political showmanship. Silence in Washington balanced verdicts in Colombo. It was a reminder that Sri Lanka continues to walk a tightrope—between the past and the future, between performance and substance, between justice delayed and delivered.
The road ahead remains difficult. The tariff negotiations are still ongoing, the economy is still vulnerable, and the pressure on the government to deliver on its full reform agenda is growing. But at this moment—however fleeting—the Dissanayake administration has shown that it can act and that action still matters.
Now the question is: Will they build on this momentum—or will they return to the distractions that have plagued so many governments before them?
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