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"Ranil, the Circulars, and the Circle of Accountability"

-By Special Correspondent

(Lanka-e-News -11.April.2025, 7.30 PM) In a country where scandal fatigue is a chronic condition and corruption inquiries often end up like poor quality Sinhala teledramas—long, dramatic, and ultimately going nowhere—the latest episode in Sri Lanka’s ongoing political theatre has introduced a familiar face back onto the stage. Former President and current Grandmaster of Political Escapology, Ranil Wickremesinghe, has now been summoned by the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption (CIABOC), not for being corrupt, but for knowing too much about it.

Yes, you heard that right. In a nation where silence is golden and selective amnesia is a prerequisite for holding office, Wickremesinghe’s sudden recollection of circulars, council funds, and preschool bags has landed him right at CIABOC’s mahogany door.

Enter: The Case of Chamara Sampath Dassanayake

To rewind a bit, this all began with MP Chamara Sampath Dassanayake, who is currently residing in state-sponsored accommodation courtesy of the Badulla Magistrate’s Court. The allegations? Soliciting funds from state banks for preschool goody bags and then helpfully transferring said funds—Rs. 3.5 million in total—to his personal foundation. When a third bank had the audacity to say "no," Dassanayake, in what can only be described as political pettiness of Olympic calibre, allegedly retaliated by yanking out the Uva Provincial Council’s fixed deposits from that bank.

In total, the state is said to have suffered a loss of Rs. 17.3 million. That’s a lot of storybooks and lunchboxes that never made it to preschoolers.

Wickremesinghe’s Circular Defense

Now here’s where the plot twists harder than a twisty kadala gotu. On April 7, Ranil Wickremesinghe—Sri Lanka’s longest-serving prime minister, shortest-serving president, and arguably the nation’s most articulate political philosopher in a tie—told the press that Dassanayake acted according to a circular that was issued during his tenure as Prime Minister.

Suddenly, the story gained layers. It was no longer about a rogue provincial MP but about a systemic directive—or at least, that’s what Ranil suggested. And in doing so, the former President did something unprecedented in Sri Lankan politics: he hinted that he might know what actually happened. That’s when CIABOC’s Assistant Director General Asitha Anthony popped into the frame, asking Ranil to put his oratory where his allegations are.

The letter politely but firmly invites the former President to show up at 9:30 a.m. on April 17, possibly with a copy of the elusive circular and maybe even a briefcase of those other “details” he seemed so confident about on national television.

When Talking Gets You Into Trouble

In most democratic countries, a former head of state offering clarity on a corruption case might be hailed as an elder statesman’s civic duty. In Sri Lanka, it’s grounds for investigation. But let’s be honest—this isn’t really about what Ranil said. This is about who said it.

After all, Wickremesinghe didn’t just defend Dassanayake. He also wondered aloud whether the arrest had more to do with the MP’s recent criticisms of the government in Parliament than with any genuine desire for justice. That, as they say, is poking the bear. And in this case, the bear has a letterhead, a legal mandate, and a coffee machine in the CIABOC headquarters.

The Anti-Corruption Act No. 9 of 2023—ironically introduced under the watch of Wickremesinghe’s own administration in one of his many avatars—now provides CIABOC the authority to call in anyone who appears to be interfering with or commenting on an ongoing investigation in a way that could be construed as… well… helpful. Or unhelpful. It really depends on who’s listening.

The Ghost of Circulars Past

There’s something beautifully ironic about this situation. Wickremesinghe, a man who could write a PhD thesis on the art of surviving political upheaval without ever taking responsibility, is now being called to account for a circular. Not a secret deal. Not a Swiss bank account. A circular. Bureaucracy’s blandest offspring.

If such a document does exist, it would certainly help clarify matters. If it doesn’t—or worse, if it exists but says nothing about pulling out millions from public coffers to fund preschool accessories—then Ranil’s intervention may have backfired spectacularly. For a man who has long been accused of being too passive, this could be a cautionary tale in the perils of suddenly becoming active.

Politics as (Un)usual

Chamara Sampath Dassanayake is hardly the first MP to find himself tangled in a web of corruption allegations. And Ranil Wickremesinghe is hardly the first to make a statement and regret it (although the bar is high in this country—remember "karapincha ministers" and “those who can’t afford bread should eat cake from Hilton”?). But what’s unique here is the possibility that the circular could provide a legal shield to Dassanayake, and by extension, implicate an entire administration in retroactive financial mischief.

It’s not every day that a former President risks converting a provincial-level bribery case into a constitutional debate about executive directives. It would almost be impressive—if it weren’t also quite tragic.

CIABOC’s Moment in the Sun

This incident has also thrown an unusual spotlight on CIABOC. Often viewed as a toothless watchdog, the Commission is now flexing its statutory muscle, backed by Article 126 of the Anti-Corruption Act. For perhaps the first time in recent memory, a powerful former head of state is being formally asked to explain himself—not for what he did, but for what he said about what someone else did.

It’s a small distinction, but in a nation where accountability is often lost in translation, it matters. And if CIABOC pursues this with the seriousness it demands, it may actually set a precedent: that statements made in public, particularly by public figures, carry a responsibility beyond scoring political points.

Will Ranil Show Up?

This, of course, is the question. Will he walk into CIABOC’s headquarters, briefed, unflappable, and armed with a circular, or will his legal team file an objection citing some variation of parliamentary privilege, respiratory illness, or a foreign conference?

Historically, Wickremesinghe has played his cards with the elegance of a man who knows how to lose power but never quite leave the stage. If he shows up, it will signal confidence. If he doesn’t, it will confirm what many suspect—that the circular, much like Sri Lanka’s commitment to anti-corruption, may be more fiction than fact.

The Broader Implications

Beyond the circus, this has serious implications. Sri Lanka’s political culture is infested with the idea that powerful people can make sweeping public statements and then retreat behind party lines or vague constitutional protections when challenged. That Wickremesinghe is being asked to stand by his words, to produce evidence, and possibly testify, is a small but seismic shift.

Moreover, if the circular does not exonerate Dassanayake, Wickremesinghe’s intervention might be construed as an attempt to interfere with justice. It could open him up to charges under the very anti-corruption laws he once touted as a landmark achievement.

And if the circular does exonerate the MP, we may be looking at a much larger scandal—one involving institutional abuse of financial regulations, signed off at the highest levels of government.

A Mirror to Our Madness

This isn’t just about a preschool bag scandal. This is about the soul of Sri Lankan governance, where good intentions often die in committee, and bad ones are immortalized in circulars.

Wickremesinghe’s return to the spotlight, not as a policymaker but as a potential witness—or worse, an accessory after the fact—offers a rare opportunity. Not to punish the man (he’s been politically punished more than any single mortal should have to endure), but to send a message: that words, like circulars, have consequences.

For once, let CIABOC not be an institution that investigates everyone and convicts no one. Let this not be another theatre performance. And let Ranil—if he truly believes in the circular, the truth, and the law—walk into that commission and speak plainly.

Because sometimes, even in Sri Lanka, the only way to escape the circle of corruption is to face it head-on.

-By Special Correspondent

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by     (2025-04-11 14:00:41)

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