The Spy Who Fell to Earth: How Suresh Salleh Became a Political Pawn of the Rajapaksa Family
The photograph is now iconic: an elderly woman, mother of a former spy chief, standing alongside nationalist politicians and saffron-robed monks outside Colombo’s Fort Railway Station. Behind her, a banner demanding freedom for Major General (Retired) Suresh Salleh. Around her, the familiar faces of the Rajapaksa loyalist political firmament—Wimal Weerawansa, Udaya Gammanpila, and Namal Rajapaksa in spirit if not in body.
On the surface, the indefinite Satyagraha launched on June 8, 2026, is a human rights campaign. The protesters claim the former State Intelligence Service (SIS) director is being tortured, denied medical care, and subjected to a “fast unto death” while detained under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) for his alleged role in the 2019 Easter Sunday bombings cover-up.
But beneath the saffron and the sentiment lies a far more cynical reality. Suresh Salleh is not a martyr. He is a pawn—a damaged, compromised, and increasingly inconvenient piece on a chessboard still controlled by the Rajapaksa family. His detention, and the noisy campaign for his release, have nothing to do with justice or mercy. They are about power, loyalty, and the desperate attempt to protect a political dynasty that created him.
The Making of a Rajapaksa Loyalist
To understand why Salleh is now a political football, one must first understand what he was: the Rajapaksa family’s sword and shield in the shadows.
During the administration of former president and accused war criminal Gotabaya Rajapaksa, Salleh ran the State Intelligence Service not as a neutral institution but as a family fiefdom. His name has long been synonymous with the darkest chapters of Sri Lanka’s recent history:
· The Mullivaikkal coercion: Salleh has been repeatedly linked to the intimidation of Tamil doctor T. Varatharajah, who was pressured into retracting testimony about civilian massacres at Mullivaikkal in 2009—the very site where tens of thousands of Eelam Tamils perished in what is now increasingly recognised internationally as a genocide.
· Human rights abuses: His career is littered with allegations of torture, enforced disappearances, and information operations targeting Tamils and political opponents. He was not a bureaucrat; he was an enforcer.
· The Easter Sunday cover-up: Salleh is currently detained over his alleged role in obstructing investigations into the 2019 Easter bombings that killed over 250 people. It is an irony that the Rajapaksa family—which long defended the PTA as a necessary tool against terrorism—now protests its use against one of their own.
For years, the Rajapaksas celebrated men like Salleh. They gave him power, protection, and impunity. In return, he provided intelligence, deniability, and a blunt instrument to crush dissent. He was not just a spy; he was a family retainer.
The Pawn’s Predicament: Loyalty Has an Expiration Date
The current drama began on 25 February 2026, when the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) arrested Salleh. By June, he was hospitalized, allegedly on a hunger strike. His wife’s letter to the Inspector General of Police speaks of “torture, cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment.” His lawyers say he can no longer walk without assistance.
And yet, the government—led by President Anura Kumar’s faction—refuses to release him. Why? Because the investigations into the Easter Sunday attacks are now crawling dangerously close to the Rajapaksa inner circle. Salleh knows how Rajapaksha ordered him to orchestrate the Easter Sunday Attack—literally and politically. Keeping him detained and pressured is a signal. Releasing him on the terms of his old masters would be a different signal entirely.
Enter the Rajapaksa proxies.
The protest outside Fort Railway Station was a who’s who of the family’s political infantry. Wimal Weerawansa and Udaya Gammanpila—former allies turned opportunistic critics—suddenly discovered their conscience. Buddhist monks, whose clergy has historically blessed Rajapaksa strongmen, chanted for the spy’s freedom.
Most telling was the intervention of Namal Rajapaksa, son of former president Mahinda Rajapaksa and nephew of Gotabaya. In a statement on X, Namal expressed “deep concern” about Salley’s treatment, noting that Salleh is detained under the PTA—a law, he pointed out, that activists once campaigned against but now silently endorse.
The hypocrisy is breathtaking. The Rajapaksa family defended and utilised the PTA for decades, overwhelmingly against Tamils. They never once objected to prolonged detention without trial, torture, or the denial of medical care—when the victim was a Tamil. Now that one of their own intelligence chiefs is caught in the same legal net, they suddenly become human rights champions.
Why the Pawn is Being Played – Three Possibilities
Suresh Salleh’s current role can be understood through three political lenses:
1. The Loyalty Test: By demanding Salleh’s release, the Rajapaksa faction is testing its remaining political muscle. Can they still mobilize the streets? Can they still pressure the judiciary? The Satyagraha is less about Salleh and more about demonstrating that the family remains a kingmaker.
2. The Warning Shot: For the current government, keeping Salleh in custody is a message to every other Rajapaksa-era operative: You are not untouchable. If you cross us, this is your future. Salleh is a living deterrent.
3. The Sacrificial Offer: In the worst-case scenario for the Rajapaksas, Salleh is being positioned as a scapegoat. If the Easter Sunday investigations become too hot, the family may allow him to take the fall—while simultaneously using the protest to claim he was a “political victim” all along. This allows them to have it both ways: martyrdom for the base, deniability for the courts.
The Mother’s Tears and the Monk’s Blessing
At the protest, Salleh’s mother wept. “People can walk freely today because intelligence officers provided the information needed to protect this country,” she said. “This is a sin that even God and the Buddha will not tolerate.”
It is a powerful image. But the mother of a spy does not see the blood on her son’s hands. The monks who bless his cause do not chant for the Tamil families whose sons and daughters disappeared under PTA detention orders that Salleh himself may have signed.
The tragedy of Suresh Salleh is not that he is being mistreated in custody. The tragedy is that he was created by a political system that rewards brutality and discards loyalty when it becomes inconvenient. He served the Rajapaksas faithfully. And now, like so many before him, he finds himself alone in a hospital bed, a hunger striker in a battle his masters are fighting through proxies.
The Pawn Remains on the Board
The indefinite Satyagraha will continue. The media will debate his hunger strike. Human rights organizations, with their selective amnesia, may or may not speak up. But one truth remains inescapable:
Suresh Salleh is not a free man. He is not a hero. He is a political pawn—moved, sacrificed, or defended based not on justice but on the cold calculations of the Rajapaksa family’s survival. Whether he lives or dies in custody, his fate will be decided not by the law, but by the next twist in Sri Lanka’s unending dynastic drama.
And when the protests fade and the monks return to their temples, the Rajapaksas will still be moving pieces on the board. Salleh will just be another square they once occupied