Anura Is Not Chandrika: Why the Comparison Is Misguided and Politically Lazy
In recent weeks, a familiar narrative has begun circulating within sections of Sri Lanka’s political commentary: that President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is “walking the same path” as former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, and that disappointment among sections of the JVP/NPP grassroots mirrors the disillusionment that followed 1994. This argument may sound emotionally persuasive, but analytically it collapses under scrutiny.
Yes, there are superficial similarities. In 1994, after 17 years of corrupt and repressive rule under J.R. Jayewardene and R. Premadasa, Chandrika Kumaratunga came to power amid enormous public hope. In September 2024, after decades of elite capture, economic collapse, and political betrayal under the Rajapaksas and Ranil Wickremesinghe, Anura Kumara Dissanayake was elected with a similarly historic mandate. In both moments, people in the North and South yearned for radical change.
But history does not repeat itself simply because expectations are high. Governance trajectories are shaped by structures, ideologies, accountability mechanisms, and political character. On all four counts, Anura Kumara Dissanayake is fundamentally different from Chandrika Kumaratunga.
The Myth of the “Same Road”
In 1994, Chandrika Kumaratunga did not come to power solely through the SLFP. She was carried by a broad-based democratic uprising that included the independent media movement, civil society groups that had bravely resisted Premadasa-era terror, and journalists such as Victor Ivan and the Ravaya collective. Yet within days of assuming office, she abandoned those forces.
The promise to punish corruption within “24 hours” quietly disappeared. Instead of empowering experienced, principled administrators, she elevated politically loyal but incompetent and often corrupt figures, handing them extraordinary authority. Over time, she sidelined the very movements that brought her to power and embraced the same business cronies and political fixers she had once denounced.
This is precisely where the comparison with Anura Kumara Dissanayake fails.
There has been no comparable betrayal of the foundational mandate. No purge of reformist forces. No embrace of political underworld figures. No conversion of state power into a personal or familial enterprise. To suggest otherwise is to confuse internal debate with political degeneration.
Internal Criticism Is Not Collapse
Much has been made of criticism voiced by some former JVP activists and sympathisers—particularly around issues such as the proposed Protection of the State from Terrorism Act (PSTA). Critics claim that party leaders were not adequately consulted and that external advisers now wield undue influence.
This concern should not be dismissed—but neither should it be exaggerated into a narrative of systemic betrayal.
The JVP and NPP are not personality cults. They are political movements with a long tradition of internal dissent, debate, and ideological struggle. Disagreement within such a movement is not evidence of decay; it is evidence of life. The fact that activists openly criticise the President without being silenced already marks a sharp departure from the Chandrika era, where dissenters were marginalised, co-opted, or crushed.
Moreover, one proposed bill—however controversial—cannot be equated with the wholesale collapse of democratic promise that occurred under Kumaratunga, whose legacy includes the Wayamba election violence, the politicisation of the judiciary, the empowerment of criminal elements within the Presidential Security Division, and the murder of journalists such as Nimalarajan and Rohana Kumara.
Anura Kumara Dissanayake has done none of this.
Advisers Are Not Oligarchs
Another charge levelled is that President Anura is now guided by a group of unnamed advisers who were absent during the election campaign and may even include figures hostile to the JVP in the past. This allegation is speculative and, more importantly, ignores a critical distinction.
Chandrika Kumaratunga’s advisers were unaccountable power brokers who shaped policy for personal and commercial gain. Under the current administration, advisers—whether technocrats, economists, or legal experts—operate within a framework of transparency, Cabinet oversight, and parliamentary scrutiny. There is no evidence of policy being auctioned to business interests, no secret licences issued, no family members embedded in ministries, and no political relatives elevated into power.
Equating “external expertise” with “crony capture” is intellectually dishonest. A reformist government governing a bankrupt, post-crisis economy cannot rely solely on party loyalists. The test is not who advises, but whether decisions benefit the public or private networks. So far, the evidence overwhelmingly supports the former.
Chandrika Ruled for Herself. Anura Governs Under Constraint.
Chandrika Kumaratunga governed as an executive monarch. Institutions bent to her will. The judiciary was reshaped to serve political ends. The police became instruments of regime survival. Media repression was routine.
By contrast, Anura Kumara Dissanayake governs under unprecedented scrutiny—from Parliament, from an emboldened civil society, from social media, and from within his own movement. His government has removed a controversial IGP, initiated long-delayed institutional clean-ups, and introduced transparency mechanisms across departments. These are not the actions of a leader drifting toward authoritarian comfort.
Critics who warn that “every government collapses after two years” may be historically correct—but history is not destiny. The NPP administration is operating in a fundamentally altered political ecosystem, shaped by Aragalaya-era consciousness and a population no longer willing to tolerate elite impunity.
Disappointment Is Not Disillusionment
There is frustration among some activists that campaign priorities have not moved as fast as expected. There is anger at bureaucratic resistance. There is fear that entrenched civil servants loyal to the old regimes are sabotaging reform. These concerns are valid.
But disappointment with pace must not be confused with betrayal of purpose.
Chandrika Kumaratunga left office having alienated even her own party leadership, leaving behind a legacy of institutional damage and moral exhaustion. Anura Kumara Dissanayake, less than a year into office, presides over a government that has not been tainted by corruption, nepotism, or bloodshed. That distinction matters.
A False Warning, Not a Historical Parallel
The warning issued by some activists—“If this continues, we will not campaign for him again”—should be understood as political pressure, not prophetic insight. It reflects anxiety, not inevitability. Responsible leadership listens to such voices without surrendering to panic or false analogies.
To claim that Anura Kumara Dissanayake is repeating Chandrika Kumaratunga’s trajectory is to misunderstand both leaders. One abandoned her mandate for power. The other is attempting—imperfectly, under resistance, and amid crisis—to institutionalise accountability.
Sri Lanka has seen what betrayal looks like. This is not it.
The comparison is not only inaccurate; it risks discouraging the very vigilance that keeps a reformist government honest. History should inform judgment, not replace it with lazy parallels.
Anura is not Chandrika. And Sri Lanka, finally, is not in 1994.