-By Economic Affairs Column
(Lanka-e-News -08.April.2025, 11.20 PM) It was just another Tuesday, the kind where headlines flicker between cricket scores, fuel prices, and political declarations that feel like déjà vu. But then came a thunderclap from the Leader of the Opposition, Sajith Premadasa: “I warned the government! Trump tariffs are coming! Send a team to Washington!”
At first glance, it sounded patriotic, concerned, and statesmanlike. But upon closer inspection, one couldn’t help but ask—is Sajith solving trade policy or starring in an economic sitcom written by a confused intern with a 1997 calendar?
Let’s dive in, economically and intellectually, into this mess of tariffs, textiles, and tall tales.
Sajith Premadasa’s warning, or rather his political performance, centered on one very Sri Lankan issue—the apparel industry. Yes, it’s true. Apparel is our pride. Our buttoned-down lifeline. An industry that employs hundreds of thousands, especially women. No argument there.
But the problem is, Sajith’s tunnel vision is stitched too tight. While his concern for apparel workers is noble (and vote-friendly), he somehow forgot Sri Lanka also exports gems, jewelry, rubber-based products, electronics, and even certain agricultural products to the United States.
So, when Sajith grabs a megaphone and yells, “Washington is attacking our sarongs!” — he’s missing the broader point. Trump's 44% tariff hike wasn’t a personal insult to our factories in Katunayake. It was part of a broader, erratic trade war that caught many nations—including U.S. allies—off guard.
And here's the kicker: Trump isn’t even in office. The 44% tariffs being discussed were part of a late Trump-era policy. Current U.S. trade policy is, shall we say, somewhere between “Bidenomics” and bureaucratic ping-pong. So why Sajith is screaming about Trump tariffs in 2025 is anyone’s guess.
Sajith’s proposed solution to the tariff crisis was — hold your economist’s breath — “Send a team to the U.S. and negotiate.”
Charming idea. Unfortunately, the U.S. Treasury doesn’t operate like a Colombo hotel reception desk. You can’t just send a team, flash a PowerPoint, and expect Janet Yellen (or whoever’s sitting in the big chair now) to say, “Ah yes, Sri Lanka! Step right into the Oval Office!”
In reality, economic diplomacy follows strict protocol. Before any meeting, a technical study is conducted. Trade attachés write lengthy reports. Ambassadorial backchannels whisper to and fro. The U.S. Treasury prioritizes large trading partners and strategic interests—and Sri Lanka, while important, is not exactly China, Mexico, or the EU on their speed dial.
The National People’s Power (NPP) government, for all its flaws, at least began a study group to assess the impact before sending anyone to Washington. Slow? Maybe. Smart? Definitely. No one walks into a boxing ring with a blindfold. Except maybe Sajith, armed with a press conference.
In a move that bordered on historical fiction, Sajith casually dropped that it was his father, President Ranasinghe Premadasa, who “built” the apparel industry.
Now, there’s no doubt the late President played a role in industrial promotion. But crediting him as the sole creator of Sri Lanka’s garment sector is like saying Newton invented gravity because he looked at an apple.
Let’s bring some nuance here.
The real architect of the modern apparel export boom was Upali Wijewardene, a dynamic entrepreneur who helped channel foreign investment into manufacturing at a time when Sri Lanka was still waking up from its state-controlled slumber. He encouraged private investment, pushed for industrial estates, and brought in foreign partnerships.
Tragically, Upali disappeared mysteriously in 1983. And here lies the politically explosive part—there are rumors (whispers best left in smoky corners) that his disappearance had political fingerprints. Was Sajith wise to casually walk into this minefield? Probably not.
Historical revisionism in politics isn’t new, but when you’re rewriting a Wikipedia page mid-interview, it’s better to footnote your facts.
Another curious bit in Sajith’s “Economic Warning Tour” was his statement that he was meeting “as many diplomats as possible” in Colombo to seek help in reversing the tariffs.
Ah, diplomacy through cappuccino.
It’s a lovely image—Sajith sipping tea with ambassadors, sketching trade diagrams on napkins, charming his way through international blockades. But the problem is, diplomats in Colombo do not set tariff policy.
They can relay concerns. They can smile diplomatically. They can write reports home. But decisions like tariff reductions are made in Washington, Beijing, London, and Brussels—not Cinnamon Lakeside.
As one Western diplomat put it dryly, “We’re here to listen, not legislate.”
So while Sajith may feel productive racking up coffee points at the embassy circuit, real diplomacy happens behind desks, in capital cities, by bureaucrats whose job titles don’t fit on business cards.
It’s tempting to dismiss all this as typical political drama—a man out of power using every available megaphone to stay relevant. And there’s some truth to that. Sajith’s economic outrage often lacks precision, but rarely lacks passion.
But here’s where it becomes problematic: public trust in trade policy requires clarity, not charisma. You can’t solve a structural economic challenge with slogans, nostalgia, or name-dropping your dad every five minutes.
In a moment where Sri Lanka needs coherent, data-driven export strategies, the last thing the public deserves is another “Economic Savior” narrative built on half-truths and emotional appeals.
This tariff issue, painful as it may be, is a symptom of broader issues: overdependence on a narrow export base, lack of trade diversification, weak institutional diplomacy, and a political class more focused on press conferences than policy coherence.
If Sajith wants to lead Sri Lanka out of an economic storm, he must first learn how trade actually works in a post-Trump, post-pandemic world. He must stop treating diplomacy like customer service and instead start treating it like chess. The U.S. is not going to waive a 44% tariff because someone showed up with a photo album and a sad story.
In the end, this isn’t just about Sajith Premadasa. It’s about how Sri Lanka’s opposition politics often mistakes volume for value and visibility for vision. The Trump tariffs are real. The economic pain is real. But the solution isn’t found in blame games, fictional family legacies, or midnight calls to Washington.
What’s needed is smart negotiation, regional alliances, sectoral reform, and yes—a bit of humility.
Until then, the Sri Lankan public remains the audience to this performance, watching as leaders spin tales, shift blame, and sell illusions—all while the real economic battle is fought far from microphones, behind closed doors, by professionals whose job isn’t to be seen, but to get results.
And as for Sajith? Well, he may yet get his meeting in Washington.
But only after he reads the manual: “How International Trade Actually Works: A Beginner’s Guide for Politicians Who Think It’s Like Ordering Pizza.”
-By Economic Affairs Column
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by (2025-04-08 20:18:57)
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