Sri Lanka’s current political moment is increasingly defined by a troubling tension between the administration of justice and the exercise of political power. At the centre of this debate is the prosecution of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe, a case that has sparked widespread concern about selective enforcement, prosecutorial overreach, and the blurring of lines between accountability and political theatre.
Critics argue that the manner in which Wickremesinghe has been pursued — including the decision to place him in remand custody — raises fundamental questions about proportionality and fairness. These concerns are amplified when contrasted with the treatment of Namal Rajapaksa and Shiranthi Rajapaksa, both of whom were previously summoned before the Financial Crimes Investigation Division over allegations many regard as far more serious in scale and consequence. Yet, neither faced the same intensity, speed, or punitive measures now applied in Wickremesinghe’s case. This disparity has fuelled a growing public perception that the law is being applied selectively, weakening trust in institutions tasked with upholding justice impartially.
System change or selective vendetta?
Supporters of Wickremesinghe see the proceedings not as an isolated legal matter, but as part of a broader political strategy to marginalise an experienced and increasingly vocal political rival. They point to the conspicuous lack of urgency in long-standing investigations involving other powerful actors — including unresolved cases tied to political violence, financial misconduct, and corruption — as evidence that prosecutorial priorities are shaped less by legal principle than by political convenience.
In this context, it is difficult to ignore the perception that the State views Ranil Wickremesinghe as a renewed political threat. Paradoxically, the very legal pressure brought against him appears to have softened long-held public hostility and revived sympathy among sections of the electorate, contributing to a gradual rise in his political relevance.
This anxiety is occurring alongside signs of softening support for the JVP/NPP alliance, which rode an unprecedented wave of public anger to power barely eighteen months ago, securing nearly 6.8 million votes and a historic two-thirds parliamentary majority. While that mandate was built on promises of “system change,” emerging political assessments suggest that the government’s voter base is no longer as consolidated as it once was.
Softening popularity
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, who secured 42.3% of first-preference votes in the last presidential election, is now widely believed to command a noticeably reduced level of support on the ground. Though precise figures remain contested, even sympathetic internal assessments reportedly acknowledge a degree of voter attrition, driven by economic fatigue, governance challenges, and rising expectations unmet.
At the same time, Namal Rajapaksa, who polled just around 2.5% in the last presidential contest, underscored how far the SLPP had fallen since its sweeping landslide win in 2019.
However, in a notable turnaround in recent months, the party under Namal Rajapaksha’s leadership is seen by some analysts as regaining traction faster than previously anticipated. Estimates suggest the SLPP may already command a base of approximately 1.5 million votes, with potential to expand further if political realignments continue.
Sajith Premadasa, who finished a close second with 32.8% of the vote, appears to retain a relatively stable support base of roughly three million voters. When viewed alongside Wickremesinghe’s resurging appeal, the possibility of overlapping or complementary voter blocs becomes politically significant. A convergence — formal or informal — between these constituencies could pose a formidable challenge to the current administration.
Numbers explain the politics
Seen through this lens, the aggressive pursuit of Wickremesinghe takes on a broader political logic. It reflects not merely a commitment to accountability, but a calculated attempt to neutralise a rival at a moment when electoral arithmetic is becoming less comfortable for those in power.
For a government elected on the promise of dismantling politicised governance, the danger lies in reproducing the very patterns it vowed to eliminate. When justice appears weaponised, public confidence erodes — not only in prosecutors and courts, but in the legitimacy of the reform agenda itself.
Sri Lanka now stands at a delicate crossroads. The question facing the country is no longer only about one court case or one political figure, but about whether “system change” will mean institutional integrity and equal application of the law — or simply a change in who wields it.
– The News Girl-
