When the Messenger Undermines the MessageA Lecture on Buddhism from Batalanda
Political Correspondent
It takes a certain confidence—some would say audacity—for Ranil Wickremesinghe to lecture the nation on Buddhism and constitutional morality. Addressing a religious ceremony in Galle, the former unelected President solemnly reminded Sri Lankans that the constitutional status of Buddhism can only be altered through a referendum. On paper, the statement is legally correct. Politically and morally, however, it collapses under the weight of the speaker’s own record.
This is not a theological dispute. Nor is it an argument about constitutional text. It is a question of credibility: who is speaking, from where, and with what moral authority.
Ranil Wickremesinghe is a man whose political life is shadowed by allegations that sit uncomfortably—indeed, grotesquely—alongside sermons on the sanctity of the Sasana.
The Unanswered Batalanda Question
Before Wickremesinghe discovered Buddhism, Artificial Intelligence, and the Dhammapada, there was Batalanda.
The Batalanda torture camp allegations are not fringe gossip or social media fabrication. They are part of Sri Lanka’s documented political history, examined by a Presidential Commission. The allegations concern enforced disappearances, torture, and extrajudicial violence during the late 1980s counterinsurgency period—one of the darkest chapters in the country’s post-independence history.
Ranil Wickremesinghe has never faced a criminal trial for Batalanda. But neither has he ever subjected himself to a full judicial reckoning that might clear his name. For decades, the strategy has been silence, procedural deflection, and political survival.
Against that background, a sermon on Buddhist ethics—ahimsa, compassion, right conduct—rings hollow. Buddhism is not merely protected by constitutional clauses; it is animated by moral consistency. One cannot credibly invoke the Sasana while remaining evasive about one’s own proximity to state violence.
An Unelected President on People’s Sovereignty
There is also a deeper irony in Wickremesinghe’s speech. He spoke passionately about “people’s sovereignty” and the inviolability of constitutional provisions, yet he himself ascended to the presidency without a popular mandate.
Sri Lanka’s Constitution may allow parliamentary elevation, but political legitimacy is not purely a legal construct. When an unelected President lectures citizens about what “the people” can or cannot do, the dissonance is unmistakable. Sovereignty, after all, is not an abstract phrase to be deployed selectively; it is rooted in democratic consent.
From Kandyan Convention to Convenient History
Wickremesinghe’s historical excursion—from the Kandyan Convention to the Panadura Vadaya—was eloquent, but also selective. He celebrated the British Crown’s formal commitment to protect Buddhism, while ignoring the colonial-era repression and missionary dominance that necessitated the Buddhist revival in the first place.
History, when filtered through convenience, becomes pageantry. It is easy to praise Ven. Hikkaduwe Sri Sumangala Thero and Colonel Olcott. It is harder to explain how a modern Sri Lankan leader reconciles that legacy with contemporary political behaviour that has often undermined democratic accountability.
Faith, Rumour, and Public Perception
There is a long-standing public rumour that Wickremesinghe was baptised into the Church of England during his education abroad. Whether true or not, the persistence of the rumour itself is politically instructive. It speaks to a credibility gap between Wickremesinghe and the Sinhala-Buddhist public.
A leader genuinely rooted in Buddhist values would treat such doubts with transparency and humility. Instead, Wickremesinghe oscillates between silence and ceremonial religiosity—appearing at temples, delivering lectures, and invoking constitutional guardianship of Buddhism when politically expedient.
Faith, however, is not performative. It cannot be summoned on a podium and dismissed in policy.
Public Funds and Private Journeys
The timing of Wickremesinghe’s remarks is also notable. He is currently facing legal scrutiny over alleged misappropriation of public funds for a private trip to London. While the courts will determine guilt or innocence, the optics are unavoidable.
A politician under investigation for the use of state resources to finance personal or partisan travel addressing monks on constitutional virtue is, at best, tone-deaf. At worst, it is an attempt to cloak legal vulnerability in religious legitimacy.
Buddhism Meets Artificial Intelligence—And Escapism
Perhaps the most surreal moment of the speech was Wickremesinghe’s anecdote involving ChatGPT, Artificial Intelligence, and the Dhammapada. The claim that an AI “admitted” the supremacy of the human mind over machines drew polite applause.
But this intellectual flourish also served as a convenient distraction. Sri Lanka’s crisis is not metaphysical. It is economic, ethical, and political. The nation does not require AI-generated hymns; it requires accountability, transparency, and justice.
Invoking technology and spirituality together may sound profound, but it risks trivialising both—especially when deployed by a leader whose own record demands far more earthly explanations.
The Core Issue: Moral Authority
No one disputes that the constitutional status of Buddhism requires a referendum to change. That is settled law. What remains unsettled is whether Ranil Wickremesinghe is the appropriate custodian of that truth.
Buddhism is not defended by speeches alone. It is defended by conduct aligned with sila (moral discipline), samadhi (right intention), and panna (wisdom). On these measures, Wickremesinghe’s political career raises more questions than it answers.
Until those questions—Batalanda, democratic legitimacy, public funds, and accountability—are addressed openly, any lecture he delivers on Buddhism or the Constitution will be received not as guidance, but as irony.
In Sri Lanka today, the problem is not that Buddhism’s constitutional status is under threat. The problem is that those invoking it often lack the moral standing to do so.