Mandate questioned as Local Government crisis emerges

Sri Lanka’s recent local elections have produced hung councils nationwide, revealing widespread voter disillusionment

A new direction on a revised script of acclaimed director Prasanna Vithanage’s Sinhala language adaptation of Dario Fo’s play, “Horu Samaga Heluwen,” is currently being staged at two strategic locations across Colombo. This innovative theatrical experience divides the narrative between Flower Road in the city and Pelawatta in the suburbs, offering audiences a unique dual perspective on political maneuvering. Vithanage’s adaptation brings Fo’s satirical style to a contemporary Sri Lankan context, creating a thought-provoking examination of political dynamics that resonates with current social realities.
At the elegant Flower Road venue, theatergoers witness the political “losers” engaged in clandestine machinations with corrupt powerbrokers (the “horu”). These fallen elites forge desperate alliances with notorious figures, plotting to undermine their victorious opponents and orchestrate their return to power. The intimate setting transforms audiences into silent witnesses of backroom deals where principles are sacrificed for political gain.
Meanwhile, at the modern Pelawatta complex, the triumphant “winners” grapple with an unexpected erosion of their political capital. Despite their electoral success, these newly-empowered leaders find themselves vulnerable and increasingly paranoid. In a striking display of political irony, they contemplate wooing the very same corrupt elements (the “horu”) they once denounced to strengthen their fragile position. Is blocking a rival party that won the most votes from governing a legitimate strategy?
This innovative dual staging captures the cyclical nature of political opportunism, where yesterday’s moral outrage transforms into today’s strategic necessity, and the line between opponent and ally blurs in the relentless pursuit of power.
This bold staging approach mirrors the play’s themes of political opportunism and shifting alliances, as both factions reveal their willingness to compromise principles in pursuit of power.
This collaboration emerged as a strategy to form Local Government bodies where the JVP/NPP won significant support but lacked the numbers to claim chairmanship positions independently.
This situation highlights a fundamental political tension. While the JVP/NPP performed well in certain urban areas, their overall percentage declined compared to previous elections. Meanwhile, the governing party emerged as the clear winner of the Local Government polls overall. This electoral reality raises questions about democratic legitimacy, as attempts to prevent the governing party from assuming leadership positions despite their electoral mandate could be seen as fundamentally undemocratic.
Machiavelli in Sri Lankan Politics: A Legacy of Power
Every Sri Lankan leader since independence has followed Machiavelli’s power playbook, though few would admit it. While publicly championing democracy, our heads of state have consistently practiced the cunning politics described in “The Prince” rather than embracing the democratic ideals from his “Discourses.”
From the earliest post-colonial governments to today’s administration, leaders have mastered the art of appearing virtuous while securing their grip on power. They’ve manipulated ethnic tensions, bent democratic institutions to personal advantage, and prioritized political survival over national welfare—textbook Machiavellian tactics. The 1982 referendum under President Jayewardene perfectly illustrates this pattern: democratic mechanisms twisted to extend power beyond constitutional limits. Each subsequent leader has continued this tradition, treating democratic principles as obstacles to overcome rather than values to uphold.
The growing public disillusionment we see today is the natural consequence of this long political tradition. Sri Lanka’s recent local elections have produced hung councils nationwide, revealing widespread voter disillusionment. This fractured mandate demands a new political approach focused on cooperation rather than partisan division. Many politicians say they love Sri Lanka and use patriotic words and symbols to show it. But real love for the country means more than just speeches and public ceremonies. It means making personal sacrifices and putting the country’s needs ahead of their own political gain. So far, most of our leaders have failed that test.
For a nation still navigating economic recovery, functional local councils are not merely desirable—they are essential. Citizens watch with mounting frustration as political calculations outweigh governance responsibilities, while ordinary Sri Lankans continue to endure economic hardship.
The path forward requires authentic statesmanship—leaders willing to transcend political rivalries and embrace difficult compromises for the nation’s welfare. The central question now confronting Sri Lanka is whether its political class possesses the moral courage to prioritise public interest over partisan advantage.
President J.R. Jayewardene’s infamous assertion—”I cannot make man a woman and vice versa, but anything else under the sun”—revealed the dangerous mindset behind his governance. This chilling declaration of near-limitless authority foreshadowed his administration’s exploitation of the referendum mechanism to extend parliament’s life, deliberately circumventing democratic safeguards and setting Sri Lanka on a path where constitutional boundaries became mere suggestions to those wielding power.
 ‘Power corrupts & Absolute power corrupts absolutely’.
Exploring our national history provides crucial insight into the contemporary political framework. Sri Lanka’s democratic journey has been consistently undermined by the machinations of the ‘Two-Thirds’ majority powers. From the disputed 1982 referendum through successive regimes built on patronage politics, these governance failures have imposed tremendous costs on our society, as systemic corruption steadily weakens the foundational pillars of our democratic institutions.
How the 1982 Referendum Changed Sri Lanka’s Democracy
The 1982 referendum marks a dark moment in our country’s democratic history. Under President Jayewardene, the government used this vote to extend Parliament’s power instead of holding proper elections. This set a dangerous example that later governments followed, turning democratic rules into political tools rather than protections for the people.
This pattern of bending democratic practices has greatly disappointed the public. Citizens have watched as systems meant to protect their rights were twisted to keep politicians in power. Over time, this has badly damaged people’s trust in government.
Today’s political awareness goes beyond simply opposing certain parties or leaders. It shows a deeper questioning of what government should truly mean in a democracy. This shift in public thinking may signal the beginning of a new political era where openness and genuine public service become basic requirements, not just empty promises. Sri Lanka stands at a crossroads. What we need now is real leadership—not politicians serving themselves, but leaders who put the country first. Our problems are too big for one person or party to solve alone. The recent local elections left councils divided, with no clear winners. Cooperation is essential, but the governing party and the Opposition haven’t even met to discuss solutions.
Leadership today means putting aside pride and party loyalty. It requires listening to opponents and finding common ground. True leaders must make hard decisions, even at the risk of losing support, by putting people first. The destiny of our villages, towns and the entire nation hinges on whether today’s politicians can transform into the principled leaders Sri Lanka urgently requires. As economic hardships continue to burden ordinary citizens, political infighting appears increasingly disconnected from people’s daily struggles. The fundamental question facing our democracy isn’t about campaign strategies for upcoming ballots—it concerns regaining the confidence of a citizenry growing increasingly disillusioned with the entire political establishment.
When future generations examine this chapter in our national story, they will ask not who controlled which council, but who had the moral courage to place country above career when governance hung in the balance.
(The writer can be reached at 
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