Tuesday Mar 10, 2026
Tuesday, 10 March 2026 00:00 - - {{hitsCtrl.values.hits}}
The recent gathering of hundreds of Buddhist monks in Colombo demanding a greater role for the clergy in State affairs has highlighted the urgent need to separate religion from the machinery of governance.
At first glance, part of the monks’ demand appears reasonable. They call for national policy to reflect Buddhist principles. If these were in fact the values rooted in the Dasa Raja Dhamma, which emphasise freedom of thought and conscience, equality before the law, protection of the vulnerable, and ethical governance, then there should be no debate. These are not sectarian ideals and are universal democratic principles that can and should form the moral foundation of any modern State, including Sri Lanka.
However, the problem lies that according to the current custodians of the teaching of the Buddha in Sri Lanka these are not the values that they espouse. The contemporary Buddhist clergy has too often strayed far from the teachings of the Buddha. Since independence, sections of the priesthood have aligned themselves less with compassion and non-violence, and more with the forces of ethnic nationalism. On critical national questions from devolution of power to equal treatment of minorities the loudest clerical voices have not advocated reconciliation, peace, non-violence or justice. Instead, they have frequently promoted division and exclusion.
History offers sobering reminders. Moments when Sri Lanka stood on the brink of meaningful compromise were undermined not by secular actors, but by religious intervention in politics. The Bandaranaike–Chelvanayakam Pact and the Senanayake–Chelvanayakam Pact, both modest attempts to address Tamil grievances through limited devolution, were derailed in large part due to pressure from nationalist monks. Their opposition helped close avenues for peaceful accommodation and nudged the country toward decades of ethnic conflict. Likewise, the disastrous Sinhala Only Act of 1956 did not emerge in a vacuum. It was fueled by an ethno-religious nationalism that conflated language, religion, and State power. The consequences were profound, alienation of minorities, institutionalised discrimination, and ultimately civil war.
These were not expressions of Buddhist compassion. They were political interventions cloaked in religious authority.
The tragedy is compounded today by political opportunism. Leaders such as Ranil Wickremesinghe and Sajith Premadasa appear willing to engage with or echo these nationalist currents in the hope of electoral revival. This is a familiar pattern in Sri Lanka’s post-independence history where political elites harness religious sentiment for short-term gain, while the long-term cost is borne by national unity and democratic integrity.
For nearly eight decades, this fusion of temple and State has contributed to cycles of mistrust, discrimination, and violence. Religion, when politicised, ceases to be a moral compass and becomes instead a tool of mobilisation often against the very minorities and vulnerable communities it should protect.
Thankfully, the last two elections suggest a shift in public mood. Voters in both the North and the South have shown signs of rejecting the politics of ethno-religious extremism. This presents a rare and valuable opportunity for the current administration that has not ridden to power on ethno-nationalism and therefore owes no political debt to the clergy.
Separating religion from the State does not mean rejecting faith or moral guidance. It means ensuring that governance is rooted in equal citizenship rather than religious privilege. It means allowing Buddhism and all religions to inspire individuals without dictating public policy. Most importantly, it safeguards both democracy and religion from being corrupted by power.