Milinda Moragoda and the Anatomy of a Political Comeback
Political Correspondent
In Colombo’s political ecosystem, few figures have mastered the art of remaining influential without holding office as effectively as Milinda Moragoda. A former cabinet minister, seasoned negotiator, and founder of the influential Pathfinder Foundation, Moragoda has spent years operating at the intersection of diplomacy, policy advocacy, and elite consensus-building. Today, amid mounting speculation, he appears poised for a political return—one that raises profound questions about power, accountability, and external influence in post-crisis Sri Lanka.
Moragoda’s name is inseparable from the 2002 peace process with the LTTE, a project that reshaped Sri Lanka’s political trajectory and permanently divided public opinion. To supporters, he was a technocratic reformer engaging an intractable conflict with realism. To critics, he was an elected ideologue whose negotiations weakened the state and emboldened separatism. Two decades later, those unresolved debates remain highly relevant to his attempted re-entry into politics.
What distinguishes this moment from previous cycles of political rehabilitation is the context: an NPP government that has explicitly challenged entrenched elites, promised forensic financial scrutiny, and signalled discomfort among traditional power brokers. Against this backdrop, Moragoda’s increased media presence and strategic engagements have not gone unnoticed.
Rather than announcing a party or candidacy, Moragoda has opted for a subtler approach. Through Pathfinder, he has convened a series of high-level discussions on geopolitics, security, and regional alignment. The participation of retired senior intelligence figures—including former State Intelligence Service Director General Suresh Saleh—has lent these forums a distinctly security-oriented character. Critics argue that this is less about intellectual inquiry and more about constructing a parallel power network that positions Moragoda as indispensable to “stability”.
Central to the speculation surrounding Moragoda’s motives is the question of alignment. Is he seeking to enter Parliament through existing nationalist or centre-right parties, appealing to Sinhala anxieties over economic disruption and governance reforms? Or is he contemplating a new political formation—one that combines nationalist rhetoric with minority elite endorsement and international legitimacy?
The latter would be consistent with Moragoda’s historical positioning: a bridge between Colombo’s political class and external stakeholders. Indeed, his status as a United States citizen—frequently cited by both supporters and detractors—adds another layer of complexity to perceptions of his loyalties and strategic priorities.
Financial anxieties have further intensified scrutiny. Persistent rumours within financial and political circles suggest that the NPP government may initiate investigations into legacy credit arrangements involving state-owned banks. Mercantile Credit, long associated with Moragoda’s family interests, is frequently cited in this context, with reports of substantial outstanding exposure to a state bank. While no formal charges or findings have been made public, the mere possibility of scrutiny has fuelled speculation that Moragoda’s political manoeuvring is, at least in part, defensive.
Perhaps the most sensitive issue, however, concerns the Easter Sunday attacks. Sections of the Catholic community and civil society activists have expressed unease over what they perceive as systematic attempts—by various actors—to stall or dilute accountability. Moragoda’s proximity to security-sector figures and his perceived influence in diplomatic circles have led some to question whether his re-emergence serves to neutralise further momentum on the investigations. No evidence has been presented to substantiate claims of direct interference, but the perception itself has become politically significant.
This is where Moragoda’s political legacy collides with contemporary reality. His past association with negotiated settlements, intelligence networks, and international diplomacy makes him a polarising figure in a country still grappling with trauma, distrust, and unresolved crimes. For many Catholics, his return evokes not reassurance but apprehension—a reminder of how power often circulates without accountability.
Supporters counter that Sri Lanka needs experienced hands, global access, and pragmatic leadership to navigate an unforgiving international environment. They argue that Moragoda represents continuity, competence, and moderation in contrast to what they describe as the NPP’s ideological rigidity. Critics respond that this is precisely the problem: a recycled elite offering stability while avoiding scrutiny.
Ultimately, Milinda Moragoda’s attempted comeback is not merely about one man. It is a test case for Sri Lanka’s post-crisis political culture. Can influence be exercised without electoral mandate? Can think tanks substitute for political parties? And can the language of geopolitics and stability be used to insulate individuals and institutions from democratic accountability?
For now, Moragoda remains officially outside the political arena, observing, engaging, and signalling. But in Sri Lanka, such signalling is rarely accidental. Whether his strategy culminates in a parliamentary seat, a new political movement, or a behind-the-scenes kingmaker role, one thing is certain: his return has reopened old wounds and reignited old questions.
As Colombowire watches carefully, so too do those communities for whom “stability” has too often meant silence, delay, and forgotten justice.