Keep the clergy out of policy making

After decades of misrule, corruption, and stagnation, the election of President Anura Kumara Dissanayake was widely understood as a mandate for meaningful change. Yet, in recent months, that mandate has been repeatedly diluted, not by public opposition or parliamentary resistance, but by pressure from religious clergy who have no democratic legitimacy in the sphere of public policy making.

Time and again, the Government has buckled under pressure from Buddhist prelates and Christian clergy, retreating from or delaying much-needed reforms. This pattern raises a fundamental question as to whether in a modern republic, why are unelected religious figures allowed such decisive influence over laws that govern a diverse, pluralistic population?

Clergy, regardless of faith, are meant to serve as moral guides for their followers, not as veto-holders over state policy. Yet in Sri Lanka, priests have increasingly positioned themselves as political power brokers. On issue after issue, education reform, minority rights, gender equality, and human rights, the custodians of morality have found themselves on the wrong side of history.

A glaring example is the opposition to decriminalising same-sex relations. Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith has emerged as a staunch critic of reform, defending laws that are a direct legacy of British colonial rule. These statutes were not born of Sri Lankan culture or Buddhist or Christian theology, but of Victorian moral codes imposed by colonial administrators. Today, much of the world, including many institutions within the Cardinal’s own global church, has moved toward recognising the dignity and rights of LGBTQ+ individuals. Yet Sri Lanka’s Catholic hierarchy continues to cling to archaic positions that even many believers no longer accept.

Equally troubling is the conduct of sections of the Buddhist clergy. Those who claim lineage from the teachings of the Buddha, whose teachings emphasised compassion, non-violence, and detachment from power, have repeatedly obstructed reforms aimed at equality, inclusive education, and minority protections. Instead of acting as voices of calm and conscience, they have often amplified ethno-religious anxieties, reinforcing divisions that have already cost this country dearly.

Perhaps most damaging is the spectacle of elected leaders repeatedly running to religious prelates to explain policies, seek approval, or quietly roll back progressive decisions. Each such visit sends a message that democratic authority lies not with voters, Parliament, or the Constitution, but with “old men in robes” whose views are shaped by dogma rather than evidence, rights, or social realities.

This is not secularism as hostility to religion. Sri Lanka is, and will remain, a deeply religious society. Faith has a vital role in personal life and community cohesion. But when religious authority crosses into coercive political influence, it undermines democracy itself. Policy must be guided by constitutional principles, human rights, and the lived needs of citizens, not by fear of clerical backlash.

By allowing itself to become hostage to religious pressure, the president and his Government risk betraying the very people who voted for change. The mandate given to this administration was not to preserve narrow ethno-religious narratives, but to dismantle them. It was a demand for courage, not caution and what is truly needed is leadership, not appeasement. We cannot move forward while being pulled backward by archaic dogma. The Government would do well to let clergy remain within their rightful spheres of spiritual influence, and to finally govern.