By Janakie Seneviratne – 

Janakie Seneviratne

In Sri Lanka, as in many post-colonial societies, social climbing and power climbing are not just parallel pursuits—they are one and the same. Advancement is rarely dictated solely by merit or hard work; more often, it is tethered to proximity to power, wealth, and influence. The forces sustaining this order are both visible and invisible, ranging from entrenched patronage networks and caste affiliations to elite educational backgrounds and influential family names.

This obsession with upward mobility often reveals a collective inferiority complex, especially among those from lower or middle socio-economic backgrounds. It is not that individuals lack confidence or ambition; rather, the system has taught people to equate status with worth. In this framework, aligning oneself with the elite becomes a form of social validation—proof that one has “made it.”

Consequently, the elite are not just admired—they are revered. Their power and privilege are not seen as suspect, but as aspirational. The cost of this reverence is dangerous: corruption, abuse, and incompetence are tolerated so long as they are dressed in prestige, wealth, and eloquence. Ranil Wickremesinghe’s recent arrest, and the incidents that followed, exemplify this pattern—misconduct at the highest levels is excused, defended, or even glorified when cloaked in elite status. Challenging the misconduct of the powerful feels not only futile but threatening, as it may compromise one’s chances of being accepted into the very circles they aspire to join.

This creates a self-perpetuating cycle:

* The elite, aware that their positions are insulated by awe and aspiration, feel little pressure to behave ethically or reform the system.

* The aspiring masses, afraid to challenge authority or expose corruption, become complicit in maintaining the illusion of elite infallibility.

* Institutions, shaped by these cultural norms, fail to enforce accountability, as societal demand for justice is neither strong nor consistent.

In such an environment, social mobility becomes imitation, not transformation. Those who manage to climb often replicate the same exclusionary, elitist, or corrupt behaviors they once critiqued. Success is not about creating change; it’s about assimilating into the existing power structure.

Worse still, the problem is culturally reinforced. Media glorifies the lifestyles of the rich and powerful. Education often prioritizes obedience over critical thinking. Religion, at times, blesses hierarchy and suffering as divine order. The result is a society where conformity to power is rewarded, and challenging it is penalized.

The cost of this cultural paradigm is immense:

* A democratic deficit where citizens feel disempowered.

* Erosion of trust in institutions meant to protect the public.

* A growing brain drain, as talented individuals seek fairness and recognition abroad.

* And, most insidiously, the normalization of injustice, accepted as the price of social progress.

If Sri Lanka is to move forward—not just economically, but morally and democratically—it must confront this painful truth: climbing the ladder is not enough when the ladder itself is broken. True progress will only come when success is redefined, not by proximity to power, but by integrity, accountability, and the courage to question the status quo.