-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -11.Feb.2025, 10.30 PM)
London, February 5th, 7 PM – Conway Hall
It was meant to be a sharp, intellectually stimulating debate—one of those events where political figures charm, dodge, and spin their narratives while the audience nods in polite contemplation. But what unfolded at Conway Hall on that chilly February evening was less of a debate and more of a political autopsy. The subject on the dissection table? None other than Sri Lanka’s former President, Ranil Wickremesinghe—known to his critics as the Butcher of Batalanda.
Facing off with the formidable journalist Mehdi Hasan on Al Jazeera’s Head-to-Head, Wickremesinghe was expected to defend his legacy, explain his policies, and perhaps even reclaim some of the global respect he so desperately clung to. Instead, what transpired was a public unravelling so severe that, by the end of the program, Ranil had metaphorically—and almost literally—fled the scene, leaving his reputation in tatters.
And now? Reports suggest the once-invincible political operator is holed up in Oman, far from the flashing cameras and difficult questions he couldn’t escape in London.
The night started with the usual pomp. The audience, a mix of international journalists, political analysts, and curious expatriates, filled Conway Hall with anticipation. On stage, Mehdi Hasan, known for his razor-sharp questions and no-holds-barred interviewing style, wasted no time.
“Mr. Wickremesinghe,” Hasan began, his voice calm but loaded with intent, “Let’s talk about Batalanda.”
The name dropped like a lead weight in the room. For the uninitiated, Batalanda refers to the alleged torture chambers operated during Sri Lanka’s brutal JVP insurrection in the late 1980s. Wickremesinghe, at the time a powerful figure within the United National Party (UNP), has long been accused of having a hand in these human rights violations—a charge he has continuously denied.
But denial was not an option under Hasan’s relentless interrogation. With each question, Hasan peeled back the layers of political rhetoric, exposing contradictions, evasions, and, at times, sheer arrogance.
“Did you or did you not have knowledge of the torture chambers?” Hasan pressed.
Wickremesinghe stumbled, offering half-baked deflections: “Those were turbulent times… I was focused on governance… We had to protect the state…”
The audience wasn’t buying it, and neither was Hasan. The journalist's piercing follow-ups left Wickremesinghe visibly flustered, his usual polished demeanor slipping into defensive outbursts.
If Wickremesinghe thought he could pivot to safer ground—perhaps his so-called economic “rescue” of Sri Lanka—he was sorely mistaken. Hasan, with the precision of a surgeon, dissected Ranil’s self-proclaimed status as the savior of Sri Lanka’s economy.
“You claim to have rescued Sri Lanka from economic collapse. But under your watch, the country spiraled into unprecedented debt, public trust in governance eroded, and international relations soured. Where is this ‘global recognition’ you keep boasting about?” Hasan demanded.
Ranil’s responses grew increasingly desperate. He cited IMF negotiations, foreign investments, and diplomatic handshakes as proof of his competence. But the facts didn’t back him up. The audience watched as Wickremesinghe squirmed, his confidence evaporating with each pointed accusation.
When Hasan pointed out Sri Lanka’s continued struggles with corruption, economic mismanagement, and political instability, Ranil had little to offer besides vague platitudes and an unmistakable air of condescension.
At one point, clearly frustrated, Wickremesinghe snapped: “I don’t need to answer these types of questions. This isn’t some YouTube show.”
The room erupted—not with applause, but with stunned murmurs. Hasan, unfazed, shot back: “No, Mr. Wickremesinghe, this is a global platform. You can’t walk away from accountability.”
By the time the program ended, Wickremesinghe’s public image was in freefall. The man who once paraded himself as the steady hand guiding Sri Lanka through stormy seas was now exposed as a leader unable to face his past—or even justify his present.
And just like that, he vanished.
Sources close to the event revealed that Wickremesinghe abruptly canceled his remaining engagements in London, avoiding the media and slipping out of the country under the radar. By the next morning, whispers began circulating: Ranil Wickremesinghe is in Oman.
Why Oman? Some speculate it's a temporary refuge, a place far enough from both Sri Lanka and the Western media glare to regroup and reassess. Others suggest he may be seeking political asylum or, worse, using the location to manage undisclosed financial interests.
Wickremesinghe’s humiliating performance on Head-to-Head has raised serious questions about the future of his political career—and the United National Party (UNP) he once led with an iron grip. Once touted as a pragmatic reformer, Ranil now faces a crisis of credibility both at home and abroad.
Back in Sri Lanka, political opponents are having a field day. The Butcher of Batalanda nickname, long whispered in political corners, is now front-page material. His critics argue that his arrogance, inability to confront tough questions, and refusal to acknowledge past mistakes have permanently tarnished his legacy.
Even his supporters, many of whom clung to the hope that his international ties would usher in stability and progress, are disillusioned. After all, what good is “global recognition” when the global stage has chewed you up and spat you out?
Ranil Wickremesinghe’s political playbook has always relied on patience, strategic alliances, and an uncanny ability to survive scandals. But the disaster at Conway Hall may be one from which even he can’t recover.
Calls are growing louder for his resignation from politics altogether. A former British politician, speaking on condition of anonymity, was blunt:
“Ranil’s done. He needs to retire before he’s further humiliated. If he doesn’t step down, the people will do it for him—just like Mehdi Hasan did on that stage.”
As of now, there’s no official word from Wickremesinghe or his party regarding his whereabouts or his next move. But one thing is clear: the Head-to-Head program didn’t just bruise his ego—it may have delivered the final blow to a long, controversial political career.
Whether he remains in exile or attempts a political comeback, the world has seen behind the curtain. The Butcher of Batalanda has been unmasked, and no amount of diplomatic posturing or economic spin can cover up the truths laid bare under Mehdi Hasan’s spotlight.
Ranil Wickremesinghe’s fall from grace serves as a cautionary tale in modern politics. It highlights the dangers of arrogance, the weight of unaddressed past sins, and the brutal power of accountability on the international stage.
For now, he may be hiding in Oman, but the shadow of Batalanda—and the ghosts of Conway Hall—will follow him wherever he goes.
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by (2025-02-11 17:34:39)
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