Unity in the Deluge: How Sri Lanka’s NPP Government Turned Catastrophe into a Case Study of National and International Solidarity
By our Special Correspondent
When Cyclone Ditwa tore across Sri Lanka, dumping a year’s worth of rainfall in less than four days, it tested not only the country’s infrastructure but also the credibility of its political leadership. Rivers burst their banks, hillsides collapsed, and entire communities in Kandy, Badulla, Ratnapura, parts of Colombo and Kegalle were submerged or cut off. By any objective measure, Ditwa ranked among the most severe natural disasters Sri Lanka has faced in recent decades.
What followed, however, has drawn sustained praise from the international community and reshaped domestic political perceptions: a relief and recovery operation marked by rapid local mobilisation, cross-ethnic solidarity, and unusually effective coordination between the state and foreign partners under the National People’s Power (NPP) government.
A stress test for governance
Natural disasters are the ultimate stress test for governments. They expose institutional weaknesses, test command-and-control structures, and quickly separate rhetoric from capacity. In Sri Lanka’s case, critics were swift to allege inadequate preparation and poor coordination. Yet those claims have struggled to gain traction as evidence on the ground has told a different story.
With rainfall totals compressing an entire monsoon season into a matter of days, no government—however competent—could have prevented flooding on this scale. What mattered was response: speed, clarity of command, and the ability to mobilise society as a whole. On these measures, the NPP administration demonstrated an operational coherence that surprised both supporters and sceptics.
Within hours of the cyclone’s landfall, emergency coordination centres were activated, the armed forces were deployed for rescue and logistics, and district-level administrators were given clear authority to act without bureaucratic delay. Relief corridors were established to the worst-hit districts, while real-time information flows—though not always polished in presentation—enabled rapid decision-making.
The power of local mobilisation
Perhaps the most striking feature of the Ditwa response was the scale of civilian participation. Volunteers poured in from across the country, cutting across ethnicity, religion, and political affiliation. Muslim organisations, in particular, were highly visible in relief kitchens, medical camps, and logistics hubs, working alongside Buddhist temples, Christian charities, and secular civil society groups.
For a country long scarred by ethnic division and political mistrust, this mattered. The images that circulated—of young volunteers ferrying the elderly through floodwaters, of mosques and temples serving as joint relief centres, of community leaders coordinating with military units—sent a powerful message well beyond Sri Lanka’s shores. They suggested a society capable of unity under pressure, and a government capable of harnessing that unity rather than suppressing or politicising it.
International observers took note. Diplomats privately described the local mobilisation as “exceptional” and “politically significant,” not merely humanitarian. It signalled that the NPP government had succeeded, at least in this moment, in aligning state authority with popular trust.
International response: swift and symbolic
That domestic credibility translated quickly into international support. India launched Operation Sandor, dispatching naval assets, cargo ships, helicopters, and technical teams. Pakistan followed with cargo shipments and aerial assistance. Soon after, American cargo aircraft arrived with emergency supplies, and the United Kingdom confirmed targeted assistance focused on shelter, water purification, and medical logistics.
What distinguished this international response was not just its speed, but its coordination. Aid flows were channelled through clearly defined government mechanisms rather than fragmented across competing agencies. Foreign military and civilian teams were integrated into Sri Lanka’s operational planning, reducing duplication and delays.
For donors and partners long wary of governance bottlenecks and politicisation of aid in Sri Lanka, this was a notable departure from past experience. Several international officials remarked that the NPP administration “knew exactly what it wanted and where it needed help,” a hallmark of institutional maturity.
Leadership under scrutiny—and approval
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) remained visible throughout the crisis, visiting affected areas, chairing emergency briefings, and publicly acknowledging both state actors and volunteers. Crucially, his administration announced a comprehensive relief package once the immediate rescue phase stabilised—combining direct financial assistance, housing support, and livelihood recovery measures.
According to surveys conducted in the aftermath, more than 69 per cent of Sri Lankans expressed support for AKD’s leadership during the crisis. While such figures should always be read cautiously, the trend was unmistakable: public confidence increased, not eroded, under pressure.
Opposition parties attempted to frame the floods as evidence of government unpreparedness. Yet this line of attack largely backfired. The argument rang hollow against the basic meteorological reality: when annual rainfall falls in four days, prevention is a technical impossibility. What voters appeared to judge instead was intent, empathy, and execution.
In contrast, attempts by figures associated with the bankrupt Rajapaksa political legacy and former President Ranil Wickremesinghe to score political points during the disaster were widely criticised as opportunistic. Social media and civil society commentary suggested a growing intolerance for disaster politicking—a shift in public norms that may prove as consequential as any policy outcome.
Winning hearts and minds—domestically and abroad
Beyond immediate relief, the Ditwa response reinforced a broader narrative the NPP government has sought to build: that the state exists primarily to protect and support ordinary citizens, especially in moments of vulnerability. Recent budget proposals had already signalled a redistributive tilt toward low- and middle-income households. The flood response gave that commitment tangible expression.
For many Sri Lankans, the message was simple but powerful: when disaster struck, the government stood with the people, shared their hardship, and deployed national resources on their behalf. That emotional contract—often neglected in technocratic governance debates—can be politically decisive.
Internationally, the message was equally clear. Sri Lanka under the NPP is not merely requesting assistance; it is offering a model of how domestic legitimacy enables effective international cooperation. Strength, in this sense, was not measured by rhetoric or militarisation, but by the capacity to protect citizens, coordinate partners, and maintain social cohesion under extreme stress.
Communication gaps and the road ahead
None of this is to suggest perfection. Even supporters acknowledge that the government’s public communication has lagged behind its operational performance. Information was sometimes slow to reach the public, narratives were not always clearly framed, and international media coverage relied heavily on external reporting rather than proactive government engagement.
This has prompted calls for a more professional and strategic public relations effort—one that explains, documents, and internationalises what the government is doing in real time. In an era where perception shapes diplomatic and financial outcomes, effective communication is not cosmetic; it is strategic infrastructure.
There is also a case for institutionalising the volunteer surge witnessed during Ditwa. Sri Lanka has long had strong informal civic networks; the challenge now is to integrate them into disaster preparedness frameworks without bureaucratising their energy. Expanding and training a national volunteer reserve could significantly enhance resilience for future crises.
A practical answer to a strategic question
In the weeks since Cyclone Ditwa, a recurring question has emerged in diplomatic circles: How strong is the NPP government? The floods provided a practical, unscripted answer.
Strength was demonstrated not through denial or deflection, but through coordination; not through coercion, but through consent; not through isolation, but through partnership—both domestic and international. The government showed it could protect citizens, deliver financial assistance, and command the confidence necessary to mobilise society at scale.
If transparency and accountability are maintained as reconstruction proceeds, the political dividends of this moment could be lasting. More importantly, the institutional lessons—about preparedness, mobilisation, and trust—could help rebuild not just flood-damaged districts, but the social contract itself.
Cyclone Ditwa was a national tragedy. Yet in its aftermath, Sri Lanka presented the world with an image of unity in adversity and governance under pressure. For the NPP government, it was not merely a test survived, but a statement made—to its own electorate and to the international community alike.