Security Theatre in Colombo: Are Think Tanks Manufacturing Risk for Relevance?
At first glance, the recent roundtable hosted by the Pathfinder Foundation—featuring Rémi Lambert—reads like a routine exercise in diplomatic engagement. Scratch beneath the surface, however, and a more calculated narrative begins to emerge: one that amplifies distant geopolitical anxieties and repackages them as immediate regional threats, conveniently aligning with the strategic and funding priorities of Western partners, particularly France.
The Ambassador’s remarks, while polished and predictably multilateral in tone, leaned heavily on a familiar catalogue of global crises—Ukraine, the Middle East, maritime insecurity, energy disruption. Yet, conspicuously absent was any empirical demonstration that Sri Lanka itself faces an imminent or elevated security threat warranting such alarm. The Indian Ocean, especially in Sri Lanka’s immediate periphery, remains largely stable in conventional military terms. There is no escalation of hostilities, no credible intelligence of direct threats, and no breakdown in maritime order that would justify the securitised urgency projected at the forum.
Why, then, the insistence on framing Sri Lanka as a node within a fragile and volatile security architecture? The answer may lie less in الواقع and more in resource mobilisation. Institutions like the Pathfinder Foundation operate within a competitive ecosystem of policy influence, where relevance often correlates with access to international funding streams. By constructing a narrative of “emerging threats” and “strategic vulnerabilities,” such platforms position themselves as indispensable interlocutors—bridges between donor governments and regional policy discourse.
This is not to suggest outright fabrication, but rather strategic exaggeration. The reference to incidents such as the alleged attack on the Iranian vessel near Sri Lankan waters or the closure of the Strait of Hormuz—while globally significant—does not translate into a direct, sustained security crisis for Colombo. Yet, in the hands of policy entrepreneurs, these events are woven into a broader tapestry of risk, one that subtly justifies increased foreign engagement, funding, and institutional partnerships.
The presence of Ambassador Lambert further reinforces this dynamic. As a representative of a country actively expanding its Indo-Pacific footprint, his emphasis on “balancing powers” and “maritime security” is not merely descriptive—it is normative. It signals a desire to embed France more deeply within the regional security architecture, using soft platforms like think tanks to shape discourse and, by extension, policy alignment.
Meanwhile, the real challenges facing Sri Lanka—debt restructuring, governance reform, economic recovery—receive comparatively less attention in such forums. The danger is not just rhetorical inflation, but policy distortion. When security is overstated, it risks diverting limited national focus and resources away from more immediate and tangible priorities.
There is, of course, nothing inherently problematic about international dialogue or cooperation. But credibility in policy discourse depends on proportionality and evidence. When think tanks begin to mirror donor anxieties rather than ground realities, they risk becoming conduits of external agendas rather than independent analytical bodies.
Sri Lanka does not need imported fear to justify engagement with the world. It needs clear-eyed assessments rooted in its own strategic context. Anything less is not policy analysis—it is theatre.