Friend and foe alike will grant that, since his election in November 2005, President Mahinda Rajapakse has proven adroit at strengthening his grip on power, be it by means fair or foul. During that time, his regime has propelled itself on the axes of war and a purging of the political opposition. A variety of approaches are being utilised for both. The military aspect has been a resounding success, starting with the Mavil Aru waterway incident of August 2007, to the captures of Kilinochchi, Elephant Pass and the Mullaitivu 'command hub' in January 2009. All three of these events took place to the shrill accompaniment of chauvinist street parades and triumphal drums.
Perhaps of more importance than war per se has been the opportunist use of racist rhetoric, against the background of what of course is an ethnic conflict. This has worked essentially to glue the Sinhalese people to the Rajapakse regime, while simultaneously deflecting attention from systematic state-engineered terror, inefficiency of economic policy, unprecedented corruption and grotesque failure of governance. Also executed with remarkable skill has been the engineered breakdown of the main opposition party, the United National Party (UNP); the marginalising of both the Sinhala-chauvinist Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) and the nationalist Tamil National Alliance (TNA); and reduction of the leadership of the three traditional left parties – the Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP), the Communist Party and the Democratic Left Front – into pliant sycophancy. Nevertheless, there is an eerie unreality in Sri Lanka today, like a castle floating on a seabed of molten lava. Is the regime really as stable as it appears? Will calm turn to chaos when deeper rages eventually surface?
The outer envelope of President Rajapakse's cabinet includes the largest number of ministers in the world (105), in addition to the military-police establishment, the government-appointed bosses of state corporations, a client class of business beneficiaries, and thousands of ruling-party hangers-on. A widespread agent-client relationship – as in the Philippines of Ferdinand Marcos – marks the Sri Lankan polity today, both within the ruling United People's Freedom Alliance (UPFA) and the UNP. This is not merely a case of every people ultimately getting the government it deserves; rather, party-aligned individuals ingratiate themselves to the regime and eventually share in the spoils of office – contracts, jobs and privileges. The moral degeneration of the political space could not have gotten this far without this process of collaboration, made all the more lucrative because of the war economy.
At the core of the Colombo regime, however, resides a very small cabal. This consists of Mahinda Rajapakse; his two younger brothers, Basil and Gotabhaya (his elder brother, Chamal, is also a minister, but is not as closely involved in policy matters); the army commander, Sarath Fonseka; and a small coterie of businessmen cronies, with Harry Jayawardena and Sajin Vas Gunawardena being the most notorious. Prime Minister Ratnasiri Wickremanayake, who has an important ex-officio role, and the ultra-chauvinist Champika Ranawaka of the Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU) the 'monk's party' (though Ranawaka is not a monk) are also part of this inside track. When it comes to the most vital decisions, however, it is only the 'brotherhood', along with the prime minister and Fonseka, who count and who run the country and the war.