What is to be done?
Dr Lalith Chandrakantha
The objective of the People’s Liberation Front (JVP) was to be the vanguard of liberation. It was modelled on a Bolshevik party structure, with full-time cadres, strict democratic centralism, and rigorous adherence to its philosophy. In the 1960s and 1970s, Marxism was the dominant philosophy for liberation movements throughout the world. However, the JVP, which was always critical of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, adopted a more pragmatic approach in its later years when it abandoned armed revolution in favour of democratic means. Despite this shift, its electoral support stagnated at around three percent for decades.
The formation of the National People’s Power (NPP) marked a dramatic change in both philosophical direction and electoral success. Marxism was abandoned, and the party appealed directly to the rising middle class. The electoral outcome was unprecedented, moving from marginal support to a commanding parliamentary majority.
However, electoral success does not automatically translate into successful governance. There are no reliable instruments for measuring popularity or governmental performance in Sri Lanka, but there is sufficient empirical evidence to indicate that the government is struggling.
Almost everyone who supported the government at the elections would like it to succeed. Many are openly fearful of the return of old, corrupt regimes.
The purpose of this series is to find a way forward from the present quagmire.
In contemporary Sri Lanka, the central political failure is not the persistence of class struggle but the absence of a coherent governing philosophy capable of managing competing centres of power and privilege in the public interest.
As the JVP abandoned Lenin, it may do well to pay attention to another Russian. Dostoevsky wrote that the mystery of human existence lies not merely in staying alive, but in finding something to live for. Likewise, political movements, like individuals, cannot survive on power alone; they require meaning.
The JVP was once grounded in a solid philosophy. It knew its purpose and what it stood for. Democratic centralism was not merely a slogan or an abstract concept. Every member was recruited only after completing the party’s famous five classes. This produced a homogeneous membership that thought and acted in broadly similar ways. Even those who never supported the party understood what it stood for.
Today, everyone knows that the party has abandoned Marxism. What is less clear is what it now stands for.
The eradication of corruption and the restoration of law and order are slogans shared by both the Right and the Left. These are basic qualities expected of any decent individual, institution, or government. They do not, by themselves, constitute a political philosophy.
This situation is confusing not only to the public but also to the party’s own parliamentarians. When observed closely, one can recognise that they have lost the moral authority and coherence that once commanded respect, even among opponents.
At times, one wonders whether the party itself is fully aware of what it stands for. When questioned directly, the general secretary has been vague. On one occasion, he stated that the party could be described as social democratic, democratic socialist, or “whatever you like.” A party founded on a strong theoretical tradition should understand that the distinction between these positions matters. In our youth, we split hairs over why Comrade Lenin rejected both in favour of a communist state. Social democracy accepts capitalism with redistribution, while democratic socialism seeks the transformation of ownership and power relations through democratic means. I must emphasise that I am not advocating a return to the old commitment to establishing a communist state. Nevertheless, the general secretary’s statement reveals a philosophical vacuum at the heart of the party.
History offers cautionary lessons about reform undertaken without philosophical clarity. When Mikhail Gorbachev introduced perestroika and glasnost, he weakened the ideological authority of the Soviet system without clearly articulating what would replace it. Economic reform, political openness, and Party retreat proceeded simultaneously, creating an ideological vacuum in which institutions lost legitimacy faster than new ones could emerge. Power fragmented between the Party, the state, and competing interests, ultimately leading to systemic disintegration.
In contrast, when Deng Xiaoping reformed Mao’s China, the direction—however imperfect—was clear. Economic reform was explicitly framed as “socialism with Chinese characteristics.” The Communist Party retained ideological and political authority while signalling continuity with China’s civilisational traditions, including Confucian ideas of order, hierarchy, and social harmony. Reform occurred within a defined philosophical horizon. Continuity of purpose, even amid radical change, allowed the state to survive and adapt.
Political movements can abandon old doctrines, but they cannot survive a vacuum of meaning. Reform without a clearly articulated philosophy risks confusion, fragmentation, and loss of legitimacy—lessons that remain relevant today.
At present, the party appears to treat the word socialism as a liability. This has provided ample ammunition for the Right to mock it. At the same time, left-leaning sections of the public and allied parties increasingly criticise the government as one of the most right-wing administrations in recent history.
Even in the heart of global capitalism, political clarity still matters. New York City recently elected a democratic socialist, Zohran Mamdani, who was not afraid to use the word socialism and to stand by it openly. One of his bold proposals was the creation of city-owned grocery stores to ensure fair, affordable, and dignified access to food. Voters understood what he stood for, and they elected him on that basis. The point is not to copy policies, but to recognise the political discipline required to articulate a clear moral and economic vision, even within a capitalist system.
A political philosophy is not an abstract intellectual exercise; it provides a consistent framework for developing policy, resolving conflicts, and navigating competing social pressures. Where such a framework exists, governance gains coherence and confidence. This is evident in the government’s relative success in the North and East and among ethnic minorities, where it has articulated a clear and principled position: a single Sri Lankan nation in which all citizens are treated equally under the law. That clarity has enabled the government to act with assurance and moral legitimacy. In contrast, the absence of a broader governing philosophy leaves it vulnerable in other domains, particularly when confronted by organised ethno-religious and identity-based pressures. Without a guiding framework, policy becomes reactive rather than principled, and power gravitates toward the loudest or most organised interests rather than the public good.
A movement that once prided itself on theoretical clarity now finds itself governing without a clearly articulated purpose. History shows that societies can endure hardship, reform, and even contradiction—but they cannot endure confusion about why they exist or where they are heading. To govern successfully, the party must once again answer the fundamental question it once understood so well: what does it stand for, and why? Until a coherent philosophy is articulated—one that speaks honestly to the realities of modern Sri Lanka while remaining rooted in moral purpose—policy will continue to drift, institutions will falter, and goodwill will erode. This series is an attempt to contribute, in good faith, to that urgently needed conversation.