The arrest of Ranil Wickremasinghe has turned the political stage of Sri Lanka into a theatre of irony and hypocrisy. What is unfolding before our eyes is not a story of loyalty or conviction—it is a spectacle of fear. The sudden “unity” of the opposition is not because they cherish Ranil, but because they dread that the same fate may soon visit them.
Crocodile Tears on Display
Sajith Premadasa, who for years sharpened his political blade by attacking Ranil’s leadership, now stands in front of cameras shading crocodile tears. His lament is not born of principle—it is born of panic. Ajith Perera, another voice in Sajith’s camp, once declared boldly on talk shows that Ranil Wickremasinghe must be arrested for the Central Bank bond scam. Now, faced with the reality of Ranil’s fall, Ajith speaks with a forked tongue, mourning the very consequence he once demanded.
This pattern of hypocrisy runs deeper. Mahinda Rajapaksa, Namal Rajapaksa, and Dinesh Gunawardena—leaders who collectively steered this country into economic ruin and political turmoil—now stand shoulder to shoulder with Sajith, pretending to grieve. Their political theatre is transparent: they attack one another when it suits them, and embrace one another when survival demands it.
History Repeating Itself
Sri Lanka has seen this drama before. In the early 1990s, bitter rivals from opposite ends of the political spectrum suddenly found common ground when inquiries into state contracts and commissions threatened to expose them. Likewise, in 2015, factions that once branded each other as traitors to the nation joined hands under a so-called “unity government”—not because they agreed on policy, but because they needed a shield against accountability.
What we are seeing now is history repeating itself. Each time justice threatens to pierce the armour of privilege, political foes transform overnight into allies. The script never changes: self-preservation comes before patriotism, survival before service.
Ranjan Ramanayake captured this reality best with his biting lyric, “All are friends, brother.” The words echo today, as the public watches old enemies suddenly embrace, proving that in the corridors of power, there are no permanent enemies—only permanent interests.
The Rotten Core of “Unity”
This sudden togetherness of the opposition is not strength. It is weakness disguised as solidarity. It exposes to the people what they have long suspected—that the ruling class is united not for the sake of the country, but for the sake of their own skins.
By standing together in this moment, Sajith, Ajith, Mahinda, Namal, and Dinesh have made one fact clear: they are all friends when accountability calls. Their crocodile tears and forked tongues reveal a common fear—that the tide of justice may not stop at Ranil’s doorstep.
The Path Forward
Ironically, this spectacle only strengthens the Government’s hand. Each false lament, each hypocritical embrace, makes it easier for the people to see the rotten core of this political class. The arrest of Ranil Wickremasinghe has exposed not only his vulnerability, but the vulnerability of an entire generation of leaders who ruled through privilege, deals, and impunity.
The lesson is simple: stay the course. Continue dismantling the culture of political untouchability. Continue shining a light on corruption, past and present. Continue to show that no office, no surname, and no alliance can protect those who have abused the trust of the people.
For Sri Lanka, this is a moment of clarity. Just as in past moments when justice threatened the privileged, the opposition has banded together out of fear. But this time, the people are watching more closely. This time, the crocodile tears and forked tongues will not go unnoticed.
The more the crooked gather, the clearer the truth becomes. Their unity of fear is the nation’s opportunity for renewal.
And when history writes this chapter, it will not say that the opposition stood for justice—it will say they stood together only when justice came knocking at their own door.
Crocodile Tears on Display
Sajith Premadasa, who for years sharpened his political blade by attacking Ranil’s leadership, now stands in front of cameras shading crocodile tears. His lament is not born of principle—it is born of panic. Ajith Perera, another voice in Sajith’s camp, once declared boldly on talk shows that Ranil Wickremasinghe must be arrested for the Central Bank bond scam. Now, faced with the reality of Ranil’s fall, Ajith speaks with a forked tongue, mourning the very consequence he once demanded.
This pattern of hypocrisy runs deeper. Mahinda Rajapaksa, Namal Rajapaksa, and Dinesh Gunawardena—leaders who collectively steered this country into economic ruin and political turmoil—now stand shoulder to shoulder with Sajith, pretending to grieve. Their political theatre is transparent: they attack one another when it suits them, and embrace one another when survival demands it.
History Repeating Itself
Sri Lanka has seen this drama before. In the early 1990s, bitter rivals from opposite ends of the political spectrum suddenly found common ground when inquiries into state contracts and commissions threatened to expose them. Likewise, in 2015, factions that once branded each other as traitors to the nation joined hands under a so-called “unity government”—not because they agreed on policy, but because they needed a shield against accountability.
What we are seeing now is history repeating itself. Each time justice threatens to pierce the armour of privilege, political foes transform overnight into allies. The script never changes: self-preservation comes before patriotism, survival before service.
Ranjan Ramanayake captured this reality best with his biting lyric, “All are friends, brother.” The words echo today, as the public watches old enemies suddenly embrace, proving that in the corridors of power, there are no permanent enemies—only permanent interests.
The Rotten Core of “Unity”
This sudden togetherness of the opposition is not strength. It is weakness disguised as solidarity. It exposes to the people what they have long suspected—that the ruling class is united not for the sake of the country, but for the sake of their own skins.
By standing together in this moment, Sajith, Ajith, Mahinda, Namal, and Dinesh have made one fact clear: they are all friends when accountability calls. Their crocodile tears and forked tongues reveal a common fear—that the tide of justice may not stop at Ranil’s doorstep.
The Path Forward
Ironically, this spectacle only strengthens the Government’s hand. Each false lament, each hypocritical embrace, makes it easier for the people to see the rotten core of this political class. The arrest of Ranil Wickremasinghe has exposed not only his vulnerability, but the vulnerability of an entire generation of leaders who ruled through privilege, deals, and impunity.
The lesson is simple: stay the course. Continue dismantling the culture of political untouchability. Continue shining a light on corruption, past and present. Continue to show that no office, no surname, and no alliance can protect those who have abused the trust of the people.
For Sri Lanka, this is a moment of clarity. Just as in past moments when justice threatened the privileged, the opposition has banded together out of fear. But this time, the people are watching more closely. This time, the crocodile tears and forked tongues will not go unnoticed.
The more the crooked gather, the clearer the truth becomes. Their unity of fear is the nation’s opportunity for renewal.
And when history writes this chapter, it will not say that the opposition stood for justice—it will say they stood together only when justice came knocking at their own door.
