The Sweetness of Doing Nothing About the Economy
Sri Lanka may finally have discovered its true governing philosophy. Not socialism.Not capitalism. Not open economy. Not state economy.
Not even the now fashionable “social market” economy which usually means capitalism with press conferences.
No.
What we appear to be witnessing is the quiet rise of an altogether more sophisticated Mediterranean doctrine:
Dolce Far Niente dell’Economia.
The sweetness of doing absolutely nothing about the economy while issuing statements suggesting otherwise.
Be that as it may, one must admire the serenity with which the Republic now watches the US Dollar fleeing Colombo like a tourist who accidentally opened the wrong side of a Pettah toilet door.
There was once a time when central bankers behaved like men entrusted with defending the nation’s financial sovereignty.
Now they occasionally resemble exhausted relationship counsellors trying to explain to the public that the Dollar “needs space.”
Poor Sri Lankans.
The people wake every morning, stare nervously at exchange rates, fuel prices, taxes, electricity tariffs and supermarket shelves while economists on television explain – with the calm confidence of astrologers – that “fundamentals remain strong.” And gone are the days when TV commentators would counter them. Instead some face the cameras in recorded nonchalance reminiscent of grave-faced funeral directors devoid of emotion, soaking up answers having bowled rather full-on full tosses.
One is never entirely sure whose fundamentals they are referring to.
Certainly not the public’s.
Meanwhile somewhere near President’s Avenue, where the trees still sway with colonial indifference and the sea breeze carries whispers of old scandals and newer IMF instalments, the great guardians of monetary stability continue their advanced national meditation exercise:
strategic non-accountability.
The Governor speaks. Then clarifies. Then explains he was misunderstood. Then refuses supervision. Then reminds everyone of independence. (With just Ravi Karunanayake speaking of the Bank that is Central and its ‘Independent’ standing.)
Then quietly disappears behind another carefully worded statement that says everything except what ordinary citizens are actually asking.
Was supervision exercised? Who failed? Who knew? Who signed off? Who looked away?
And perhaps most dangerously of all:
who now appears more interested in protecting institutional mythology than institutional credibility?
Because modern Sri Lanka has perfected a remarkable new science. The ability to speak continuously while revealing absolutely nothing.
The politicians do it magnificently too. The Government reassures. The Opposition condemns. Committees investigate. Experts analyse. Panels convene.
Meanwhile the Dollar continues its long-distance relationship with Sri Lanka from somewhere closer to Washington.
At this rate it may soon require a transit visa merely to visit Colombo.
And yet there remains something deeply Sri Lankan about the whole spectacle. The people grumble magnificently. The tea shops remain open. The buses still lean sideways at impossible angles.
Three men at every boutique continue solving global economics between mouthfuls of plain tea and Gold Leaf – the shorty version thanks to the understanding folk at CTC.
And every citizen now possesses at least honorary postgraduate qualifications in inflation, debt restructuring, exchange rate theory and political disappointment. Not to mention Virology (Covid), Constitutional Affairs (Aragalaya).
Even the rain has joined the national mood.
Not content with merely falling, it now descends upon Colombo with the aggression of an Auditor General’s report.
Trees collapse. Roads flood. Traffic freezes.
And still the Republic carries on with that uniquely Sri Lankan blend of fatalism and sarcasm.
“Shape eka hari yai…”
Will it?
That, perhaps, is the real question quietly haunting the country.
Because Dolce Far Niente in Italy was about appreciating life’s beauty.
Sri Lanka’s adaptation risks becoming something far more dangerous:
the sweetness of postponement.
Doing nothing about corruption. Doing nothing about institutional decay. Doing nothing about accountability. Doing nothing about economic drift. Doing nothing while insisting everything is under control.
Until eventually the nation wakes up one morning to discover that the Dollar, investor confidence, public trust and perhaps even the future itself have all quietly emigrated together.
And somewhere in the distance, over the sound of rain, press conferences and collapsing exchange rates, one can almost hear the entire country muttering:
“Ah well… balamu…”
