-By Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -09.April.2025, 11.20 PM) There are moments in history that define a nation’s foreign policy posture. Nixon going to China. Nehru at Bandung. And now—Rajitha Senaratne suggesting that Ranil Wickremesinghe can call Elon Musk to resolve Sri Lanka’s 44% apparel tariff with the United States.
Yes, you read that correctly. In a week where global markets trembled at rising protectionism, where Sri Lanka’s apparel sector continued its slow strangulation under an American trade noose, and where thousands of seamstresses stitched their eighth shirt of the day for half a living wage—Rajitha Senaratne rose in some forum of national relevance and, without apparent irony, implied that the President of Sri Lanka might just ring up the Tesla overlord and solve this mess.
We should have seen this coming.
Before we dissect this wild geopolitical solution involving Elon Musk’s interplanetary Rolodex, let’s spend a moment admiring the source. Rajitha Senaratne—one of the few politicians in Sri Lanka who has been, at various points, left of Marx, right of Milton Friedman, and aligned with more parties than a Colombo wedding caterer.
He’s worn every political colour available—red, blue, green, and occasionally a mysterious shade of opportunistic grey. He began his career as a radical leftist, marched with revolutionaries, and shouted slogans about Western imperialism. Today, he is a senior member of the United National Party (UNP), the most pro-West, pro-business, pro-free-trade entity on the island. His journey from Trotsky to Tesla is not just a political arc—it’s a Sri Lankan spiritual rebirth.
Senaratne’s capacity to reinvent himself would make Madonna blush. His comments, like his ideology, shift with the trade winds. Yesterday, he condemned multinationals. Today, he wants Elon Musk to rescue our textile industry.
But let’s not be unfair. This is not mere buffoonery. This is a masterclass in post-truth policymaking: where spectacle is more important than structure, and name-dropping a billionaire is considered economic strategy.
Let’s unpack the actual claim: Ranil Wickremesinghe, with his Yale-like calm and Europhile composure, can—or should—call Elon Musk and ask him to help negotiate a 44% tariff imposed on Sri Lanka’s apparel exports to the U.S.
This tariff, let us remind ourselves, was not imposed by SpaceX or Tesla. It was imposed by the U.S. government as part of a broader strategy of trade recalibration, Indo-Pacific economic realignment, and punitive tariff regimes designed to reward compliant allies and punish ambiguous trading partners.
In other words, this is not an engineering problem. You cannot send a reusable rocket to fix this. You need trade lawyers, policy strategists, diplomats who can navigate Washington’s labyrinthine institutions. Not a billionaire tech bro who occasionally tweets “love me some tariffs.”
Yet, here we are, in the land of magical thinking, where a casual remark from a serial party-hopper is enough to generate serious headlines.
Let’s consider for a moment what exactly Elon Musk’s role could be in this scenario.
Is he expected to tweet “Revoke Sri Lanka’s tariff. Sad!” and hope Joe Biden panics? Should he invite Ranil to a Boring Company tunnel demo and use that opportunity to broker a side deal on Generalised System of Preferences (GSP+)? Should SpaceX outsource uniform manufacturing to Batticaloa?
Or maybe, just maybe, Musk will be so moved by Rajitha’s appeal that he will summon his influence in the U.S. Treasury and demand “justice for Lankan cotton.” After all, what is the point of being the richest man on Earth if not to meddle in apparel disputes 10,000 miles away?
To be fair, this isn’t the first time Sri Lanka has placed its hopes in celebrities. We’ve previously flirted with Hollywood starlets to promote tourism, paraded cricket legends in climate talks, and once considered inviting an American rapper as a "peace ambassador." Elon Musk as Trade Messiah is simply the latest fantasy in this national hall of fame of misplaced faith.
Let’s pivot, briefly, to the actual crisis.
The 44% tariff is a devastating blow to Sri Lanka’s apparel industry, which constitutes over 40% of our export economy. Thousands of jobs are at risk. Smaller factories, especially outside Colombo’s BOI zones, are facing closures. The U.S. was one of our largest markets—this tariff makes Sri Lankan garments economically unviable compared to cheaper producers who enjoy better trade agreements (think Bangladesh, Vietnam, even Jordan).
Why was the tariff imposed? A mix of reasons—lack of bilateral agreements, shifting alliances, concerns over labor practices, and, let’s be honest, a little geopolitical revenge for our wobbling loyalty between China and the West.
This isn’t a problem you solve by WhatsAppping a billionaire. It is the result of years of neglect in trade diplomacy, hollowed-out foreign service, and our belief that press conferences are policy.
Rajitha’s logic, if it can be called that, relies on the mythos of Ranil Wickremesinghe as the ultimate global connector. To be fair, Ranil does know people. He attends Davos. He’s been in politics since floppy disks were cutting edge. His suits are stitched in Europe. He reads The Economist.
But global recognition is not global influence. Ranil’s international network is composed of think tankers, polite ex-diplomats, and the occasional Commonwealth relic—not people who shape U.S. trade policy in an election year.
So even if Ranil had Musk on speed dial, even if they once shared a panel on "Tech and Trade in the Global South" at Davos, this isn’t how the U.S. government operates. The White House does not set tariff schedules based on who Elon's friends are. (If it did, Dogecoin would be legal tender.)
Rajitha Senaratne’s comment is not just comically absurd—it is emblematic of a deeper rot. A crisis of political imagination. A belief that problems of policy can be solved by stunts of PR. That complex geopolitical issues can be resolved by invoking the names of rich, white, Western men with lots of followers.
It is a symptom of our post-colonial insecurity—a desperate need for validation from the global elite. Instead of empowering our trade ministry, we fantasize about being rescued by Musk. Instead of building a strong, long-term lobbying effort in Washington, we hope a single phone call from “someone important” will do the trick.
This is not how sovereign nations operate. This is how banana republics perform.
If we are serious about solving this tariff issue, here’s what we need:
Deploy Experienced Trade Diplomats: People who’ve negotiated trade deals, who understand WTO clauses, and can speak in acronyms without bluffing.
Build a Strategic Bilateral Lobby: Hire U.S. lobbying firms (real ones, not retired congressmen looking for island vacations) to push Sri Lanka’s case in Congress and the USTR.
Clean Up Domestic Practices: Improve labor conditions, audit our BOI factories, and show we comply with global standards—because half the reason we lost GSP+ in the first place was our opaque practices.
Long-Term Trade Strategy: Diversify export markets. Negotiate regional agreements. Rebuild the foreign ministry. And stop believing billionaires are fairy godmothers.
Rajitha Senaratne’s statement might have been a joke. Or it might have been a moment of genuine delusion. Either way, it reveals something troubling about our political discourse.
That we are still, in 2025, relying on magical realism to solve economic realities.
That a politician with no trade background, no economic credibility, and a résumé that reads like a game of musical chairs, can go on record suggesting that Sri Lanka’s most pressing economic problem might be solved by calling a man whose primary concern this week is whether X (formerly Twitter) has a profitable quarter.
And that, perhaps, is the saddest part.
We don’t need Elon Musk.
We need Rajitha Senaratne to retire.
--By Political Correspondent
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by (2025-04-09 18:48:52)
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