-By Economist Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -09.April.2025, 11.00 PM) There’s a strange quiet in Sri Lanka’s industrial zones lately. Not the kind of eerie silence that accompanies an economic downturn—those are, tragically, far too familiar. No, this is more of an anticipatory hush, the kind you’d find backstage before a very strange play.
And who’s cast in the lead role this time? None other than Ashraf Omar, the CEO of Brandix Apparel, Sri Lanka’s most celebrated (and occasionally controversial) exporter of T-shirts, trousers, and tax-efficient profit flows. He’s now reportedly been tasked—either by divine intervention or desperate bureaucratic imagination—to lead a delegation to the United States to negotiate a tariff reduction.
Yes, you heard that right.
The United States, in a new wave of economic nationalism and Indo-Pacific realignment, has slapped a 44% tariff on apparel imports from Sri Lanka. That’s right—44%. For context, that's higher than some sin taxes. You could import a bottle of bourbon cheaper than a cotton shirt. In Sri Lanka, where the garment sector employs hundreds of thousands and contributes nearly half of the country’s export revenue, this is not just a fiscal squeeze. It’s a slow exsanguination.
So who do we send to Washington D.C. to plead our case before the mighty altars of the U.S. Treasury and the USTR (U.S. Trade Representative)? A seasoned trade diplomat? A former ambassador with Ivy League polish and Georgetown connections? A minister with strategic insight and a Rolodex that includes Foggy Bottom and Capitol Hill?
No. We are sending... Ashraf Omar.
Now, Ashraf is no lightweight. His balance sheets would laugh at the GDPs of some small island nations. Brandix is a juggernaut, a behemoth of zippers, seams, and (some say) strategic tax structuring. He is hailed in corporate circles as a visionary, albeit one whose vision sometimes appears to include seeing loopholes before laws.
But is he the right person to negotiate with the U.S. government on trade tariffs? Does he have connections in the Republican hierarchy, with the Trumpian resurrectionists in the House, or with the Biden holdovers in the bureaucratic deep state? Can he navigate the complex machinery of Capitol Hill, where trade policy is shaped not just by economics, but by geopolitics, labor unions, electoral districts, and the mood of the Iowa corn belt?
Let’s put it gently: Ashraf Omar couldn’t name a single assistant secretary in the USTR if his next shipment depended on it.
And that’s what worries us.
Because this isn’t just about Brandix. This is about the entire apparel industry—an industry that was built on the backs of underpaid seamstresses in Katunayake and Biyagama, an industry that weathered thirty years of war and the chaotic aftermath of peace, and an industry that, like the garments it produces, has been stretched and stitched and cut too many times to count.
But let’s give Ashraf his due. He does have experience—in optimizing the tax footprint of a multi-national operation, in leveraging government concessions, and in turning low-cost labor into high-profit margins. He’s mastered the art of converting Board of Investment (BOI) privileges into long-term commercial immunity.
Brandix, for example, has long enjoyed duty-free imports of raw materials—a logical concession to encourage exports. But skeptics whisper (or sometimes shout) that not all of those materials find their way into shirts and skirts. Some quietly slip into domestic markets, eluding taxes, duties, and accountability. It’s the kind of leakage that would make the IMF’s forensic auditors sweat through their suits.
And then there’s the question of who really owns what. Brandix’s relationship with Sri Lankan export quotas—particularly during the old Multi-Fibre Agreement (MFA) era—has been the subject of speculation and more than one investigative report. There are whispers of quota arbitrage, offshoring profits, and a spiderweb of holding companies so dense it would make a hedge fund blush.
So when Ashraf Omar says he’s going to Washington to represent Sri Lanka, one must ask—does he represent the thousands of workers who earn less than a living wage, or the executives who earn more than a minister’s lifetime pension in a single quarter?
Now, it must be said—some have pointed to Omar’s lack of "native" Sri Lankan roots, as if birthplace alone defines patriotism or economic legitimacy. That is a dangerous, slippery argument. Ashraf Omar is as Sri Lankan as most corporate elites in Colombo 07—global in accent, Western in education, and local only when it’s time to collect BOI benefits or claim patriotism during budget hearings.
The more relevant question is not where he or his parents came from. It’s what he has done while here. And more precisely, what he has done with Sri Lanka’s national resources, export quotas, and public trust. His closeness to past regimes—from Gotabaya Rajapaksa to Ranil Wickremesinghe—was well-documented, and his enthusiasm for the National People’s Power (NPP) government was... shall we say... less than overwhelming.
He reportedly bet, quite publicly, that the NPP would never come to power. One might say it was a poor bet. But then again, when you're used to hedging everything—from currency to compliance—what’s a little political risk?
Let’s now return to the tariff.
A 44% tariff is not a clerical error. It is an intentional geopolitical move. The United States is recalibrating its global supply chains to reduce dependence on China, punish non-compliant or opaque trade partners, and reward countries that align with its foreign policy.
Sri Lanka, caught somewhere between Beijing's belt and Washington's wallet, has not exactly been a consistent friend to American policy goals. Our strategic port deals, mysterious Chinese research vessels, and wildly unpredictable domestic politics have all contributed to a lack of trust. The tariff is, in many ways, a symptom of a broader diplomatic frost.
So, will Ashraf Omar’s trip change any of that?
Unlikely.
Trade tariffs of this nature are negotiated government-to-government, often through formal treaties or legislative amendments. The apparel sector may be important, but it is one piece of a larger game. If Sri Lanka wants this tariff lowered, we need to send diplomats, strategists, and economists—not apparel magnates who mistake duty-free cotton for diplomatic capital.
Let’s be brutally honest. Ashraf Omar is not going to reduce the 44% tariff. He might return with a few polite handshakes and some lobbying invoices from overpriced Washington PR firms. He might get a friendly mention in a chamber of commerce memo. But the needle will not move.
This entire endeavor smacks of a PR strategy to position Brandix as the savior of the industry—perhaps to justify future concessions, tax holidays, or BOI sweetheart deals. After all, if you’re the one trying to save the sector, surely you deserve another round of generous government support?
But Sri Lanka has been here before. We’ve handed our national interest to corporate proxies in the hope that trickle-down economics would eventually trickle. It rarely has. And in the meantime, we’ve created a system where a handful of corporate elites dictate our trade policy, while underpaid workers stitch under flickering lights, and bureaucrats nod along in meetings they barely understand.
If Sri Lanka wants a meaningful reduction in this tariff, we need a multi-pronged strategy.
First, we must engage the USTR and Treasury Departments at the highest levels, not through corporate emissaries but through ambassadors, trade lawyers, and strategic lobbyists. We must align our trade policy with broader American strategic interests—supply chain security, human rights compliance, and regional stability.
Second, we must clean up our own house. Improve labor standards, enhance transparency, and audit our BOI agreements. A country that cannot explain its export numbers should not expect tariff relief.
Third, we must think beyond Brandix. There are dozens of mid-sized apparel exporters who operate without the benefit of celebrity CEOs and offshore subsidiaries. If we truly care about the industry, we must level the playing field—not privilege the loudest voice.
Ashraf Omar may be a master tailor in the boardroom, but negotiating U.S. trade tariffs is not a sewing contest. It is a diplomatic, economic, and political challenge of the highest order. And while he may wear the finest linen, one suspects his suit of influence in Washington is threadbare at best.
So before we cheer him on as the savior of Sri Lankan apparel, let us first ask a few questions: What are his real motives? Who really benefits? And if the 44% tariff remains, as it likely will, will Ashraf still be around to bear the blame—or will he already be halfway to the Caymans, writing off the trip as a “strategic business expense”?
The Sri Lankan public deserves more than glossy press releases. We deserve transparency, strategy, and above all, results.
Until then, let’s keep our expectations low—and our export invoices lower.
-By Economist Correspondent
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by (2025-04-09 18:41:30)
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