By Rangana Hetti Arachchige –

Rangana Hetti Arachchige

At the World Economic Forum in Davos earlier this month, Mark Carney delivered a speech that resonated far beyond the alpine halls it was delivered in. His central message was stark: the world is no longer moving through a smooth transition, but through a rupture. Old rules, old assumptions, and old comforts are no longer holding. In such moments, Carney warned, governments face a choice – retreat into short-term appeasement, or exercise strategic resolve.

Sri Lanka today finds itself in a remarkably similar moment.

The government is under sustained attack on multiple fronts – from economic hardship, from political opposition seeking momentum, and most recently, from resistance to education reform. Protests, slogans, and calls to “take the sign down” dominate public discourse, often without a serious engagement with what is actually at stake. What we are witnessing is not merely disagreement over policy details, but a broader struggle over whether the state has the legitimacy – and the courage – to reform itself.

Carney’s warning applies directly: when systems are under strain, those who benefit from inertia mobilize fastest.

Education Reform as a Structural Intervention

Education reform is never politically neutral. It touches identity, class mobility, language, culture, and power. In Sri Lanka, education has long been both a ladder of opportunity and a site of exclusion. Any attempt to modernize curricula, governance, or financing will inevitably provoke anxiety – particularly in a society still recovering from economic shock. A restructure more so.

But to frame these reforms as an attack on public education, or as an externally imposed agenda, is to misunderstand the moment. The current reform effort is not occurring in a vacuum; it is part of a broader attempt to realign the state with economic reality, demographic change, and global competitiveness.

Carney spoke of how tools once used for cooperation are now being weaponized. In Sri Lanka’s case, education itself has become a political weapon – reduced to placards and performative outrage rather than debated as a long-term national investment.

This is dangerous.

Governing in a Time of Coordinated Pressure

One of Carney’s most quoted lines – “If you are not at the table, you are on the menu” – was aimed at middle powers navigating geopolitical coercion. But it applies equally to domestic governance. A government that governs by fear of backlash, rather than by clarity of purpose, quickly becomes hostage to the loudest voices rather than the long-term public interest.

The opposition understands this well. Momentum is not built by presenting credible alternatives, but by amplifying fear and grievance. In recent months, isolated incidents and controversial remarks – including comments attributed to Minister Lal Kantha concerning a prominent Buddhist monk – have been deliberately framed as evidence of a broader assault on Buddhism itself. This narrative, detached from context and amplified through racist and extremist propaganda networks, has been used to inflame religious anxiety and mobilize opposition rather than to seek accountability or dialogue. The objective is not to protect religion, but to weaponize it – converting genuine public concern into political leverage.

Asking the government to “take the sign out” is not about signage; it is about testing whether the state will blink. If it does, the lesson will be learned quickly – not just on education, but on every reform yet to come.

Public Trust Is Built Through Consistency, Not Capitulation

None of this is to suggest that reform should be blind, technocratic, or dismissive of public concern. On the contrary, meaningful reform requires transparency, consultation, and accountability. But there is a crucial difference between listening and retreating.

Carney emphasized that the old order is not coming back. Sri Lanka’s pre-crisis model – underfunded public systems, political avoidance of hard choices, and reform postponed indefinitely – is not coming back either. The public knows this, even when discomfort makes it tempting to deny.

This is precisely why moments like this matter.

Governments earn trust not by avoiding conflict, but by demonstrating coherence, explaining why reforms are necessary, how they will be implemented, who will be protected, and what success will look like. Taking symbolic steps backward in response to pressure signals uncertainty, not humility.

A Call for Civic Maturity

This is not a call for blind loyalty to any government. It is a call for civic maturity. Reform, especially in education, cannot be hostage to political cycles or street-level brinkmanship. The costs of failure will not be borne by today’s politicians, but by tomorrow’s students.

Carney’s speech was ultimately about responsibility – the responsibility of leaders to lead, and of societies to recognize inflection points when they arise. Sri Lanka is at such a point now.

The question is not whether education reform will be uncomfortable. It is whether we are prepared to defend the idea that reform, thoughtfully designed and firmly implemented, is preferable to stagnation disguised as stability.

History is unforgiving to governments that retreat at moments of rupture. It is equally unforgiving to societies that demand certainty while rejecting change.