Editorial
Sheikh Hasina, though ultimately unseated amid public fury and shifting political winds—abetted in part by external actors—left behind something far more enduring than her tenure: continuity. Her flagship undertakings did not disintegrate with her departure. They were insulated from partisan vandalism, preserved as instruments of national purpose. Yesterday, Bangladesh crossed a historic threshold as its first nuclear power facility moved decisively towards operation, anchoring its future energy security. That moment was not an accident of fortune; it was the cumulative result of a state that, whatever its political turbulence, refuses to cannibalise its own strategic ambitions.
Contrast this with Sri Lanka, where political upheaval has become a ritualised spectacle rather than a corrective mechanism. Governments are ejected, leaders are humiliated, and new custodians ascend with proclamations of reform—yet the underlying pathology persists. The recent disappearance of millions of dollars under the stewardship of the new Treasury leadership, whispered by insiders to be merely the visible fragment of a far larger malfeasance, is not an aberration. It is emblematic of a system that has normalised fiscal opacity and institutional fragility. Day by day, Sri Lanka hemorrhages not merely capital, but credibility. Investor confidence has not just waned; it has withered under the weight of chronic duplicity and administrative incoherence.
Bangladesh, by contrast, has demonstrated an almost austere fidelity to its developmental trajectory. Its metro rail in Dhaka, financed through Japanese concessional lending, was not derailed by populist sophistry or pseudo-intellectual objections. It was conceived, executed, and operationalised with a clarity of purpose that transcended electoral cycles. Even critics within Bangladesh did not succeed in recasting a passenger transit system into an absurd debate about freight logistics. The state apparatus, for all its imperfections, did not indulge in the kind of semantic gymnastics that have become routine in Sri Lanka, where projects are not evaluated on merit but distorted through ideological theatrics.
Sri Lanka’s aborted light rail project in Colombo remains a particularly egregious illustration. Here was a meticulously planned, generously financed urban transit solution, underwritten by one of the most favourable lending arrangements available globally. Yet it was summarily extinguished under the administration of Gotabaya Rajapaksa, aided by figures such as Lalithasiri Gunaruwan, who advanced the bewildering contention that an urban light rail system was deficient because it could not transport shipping containers. This was not merely a misreading of infrastructure economics; it was an intellectual dereliction masquerading as policy critique. No serious metropolis conflates passenger mobility with port logistics, yet Sri Lanka allowed such reasoning to sabotage a project of transformative potential.
The consequences were immediate and severe. Diplomatic relations with Japan suffered a perceptible chill. Billions in prospective investment evaporated. More insidiously, Sri Lanka signalled to the world that it was incapable of honouring long-term commitments. Infrastructure, by its very nature, demands consistency—a quality conspicuously absent in Sri Lanka’s governance ethos. Each successive administration appears intent on repudiating the initiatives of its predecessor, not out of principled disagreement, but as an exercise in political one-upmanship.
The farce extends beyond transport. The expansion of the country’s primary international airport became ensnared in allegations of bribery and procurement irregularities. Japanese financiers, understandably wary, hesitated. Investigations were convened, committees assembled, and eventually the implicated minister was exonerated under the aegis of President Ranil Wickremesinghe’s administration. Yet exoneration did not translate into progress. The project remains in abeyance, a monument to procedural paralysis. One is compelled to ask: what value does institutional absolution hold when it fails to restore momentum or confidence?
Meanwhile, Bangladesh proceeds with a kind of relentless pragmatism. Its collaboration with Russia on nuclear energy, culminating in the Rooppur facility, exemplifies a strategic calculus that privileges long-term resilience over short-term political expediency. The project, financed predominantly through Russian credit, was not immune to scrutiny or challenge. Yet it was never subjected to the kind of capricious abandonment that has become Sri Lanka’s hallmark. Bangladesh understood that energy security is not a partisan commodity; it is a national imperative.
Sri Lanka, by contrast, dithers even at the level of conceptualisation. Discussions with Russia regarding a potential nuclear power plant remain mired in indecision. Geopolitical anxieties, particularly concerning India’s sensitivities, are frequently invoked, sometimes with an air of conspiratorial exaggeration. While it is true that regional dynamics necessitate diplomatic finesse, it is equally true that sovereign policy cannot be perpetually subordinated to external conjectures. India itself operates nuclear facilities in close proximity, in collaboration with the very same Russian entities. The notion that Sri Lanka is uniquely constrained borders on self-imposed paralysis.
What emerges from this juxtaposition is not a simplistic morality tale, but a stark divergence in statecraft. Bangladesh has cultivated a governance culture that, despite its political frictions, recognises the sanctity of continuity. Projects are not treated as expendable artefacts of transient regimes, but as cumulative investments in national advancement. Sri Lanka, on the other hand, has allowed opportunism to metastasise into doctrine. Policy is not anchored in enduring objectives but is instead buffeted by the whims of transient power brokers.
The cost of this incoherence is not merely economic; it is reputational. Nations are not judged solely by their resources or aspirations, but by their reliability. Sri Lanka’s repeated reversals, its tolerance for dubious reasoning, and its susceptibility to scandal have collectively eroded its standing. It is no longer perceived as a dependable partner, but as a volatile environment where agreements are provisional and accountability elusive.
There is a certain tragic irony in this trajectory. Sri Lanka possesses the intellectual capital, the geographic advantage, and the historical pedigree to rival its regional peers. Yet it remains ensnared in a cycle of self-sabotage. Each discarded project, each unresolved allegation, each policy volte-face reinforces a narrative of dysfunction. Bangladesh, once dismissed as a peripheral player, has quietly recalibrated its trajectory through disciplined adherence to national priorities.
Until Sri Lanka confronts this dissonance—until it disentangles governance from opportunism and reclaims a coherent sense of purpose—it will continue to lag, not for lack of potential, but for want of resolve.
