Welcome break from politics of entitlement

Last week’s repeal of the Presidents’ Entitlements Act of 1986 marks an important symbolic milestone in our political culture. That law, for nearly four decades, guaranteed former heads of state and even their widows, lavish privileges at the taxpayers’ expense. These included a State-funded residence or allowance, secretarial support, official transport, and a monthly pension. It was a generous package in a country where millions struggle to afford basic necessities.

Unsurprisingly, the move has drawn sharp criticism. Some see it as a targeted attempt to humiliate former leaders, particularly Mahinda Rajapaksa. Ever the master of political theatre, Rajapaksa made a dramatic show of leaving his State-funded Colombo residence, presenting himself as a victim of political vindictiveness. His loyalists echo this narrative, portraying the repeal as a personal vendetta rather than a principled stand. Yet, reducing the matter to partisan grievance is to miss the larger point.

The savings from cutting such entitlements will indeed be modest in the grand scheme of public finance. No one should pretend this is a fiscal solution to Sri Lanka’s economic woes. But the symbolic weight of the decision is enormous. For decades, a dangerous idea has been cultivated that political office is not a temporary public trust, but a lifelong entitlement to privilege. This belief has hollowed out public confidence in our institutions, fuelled resentment against politicians, and fed the perception that politics is a path to personal enrichment.

President Anura Disanayake’s Government has chosen to break from this tradition. By ensuring that the law applies to himself as well, Disanayake has sent a powerful message. Leadership is service, not a ticket to permanent luxury. Even if he were to serve two terms, he would be among the youngest former presidents in Sri Lanka’s history. Yet he has foregone the prospect of decades of taxpayer-funded comfort. That act of renunciation sets an example rarely seen in our political culture.

Contrast this with the record of Parliament. Over the years, legislators have abused their power over public finances, granting themselves duty-free vehicles, inflated allowances, and generous pensions while ordinary citizens endured economic collapse and austerity. In which other profession would a citizen get a pension for life for service of five years? Even during the height of the financial crisis, Parliament approved funds for luxury vehicles, claiming they were necessary to “serve their constituencies.” This kind of obscene privilege, while the country teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, exposed the moral bankruptcy of the mainstream political parties.

The Opposition’s reaction reveals how out of touch many of its members remain. Some have warned that when Disanayake himself leaves office, he too will be denied privileges. But that is precisely the point. In a democracy, no leader, past, present, or future, should be supported in perpetuity by citizens who can barely support themselves. To cling to such entitlements is to cling to the worst habits of the old political order.

Citizens have lost faith in a system that has long prioritised politicians’ comfort over public welfare. Rebuilding that trust requires not just economic reform but moral reform. The repeal of the Presidents’ Entitlements Act may not balance the budget, but it begins to balance the scales of justice.