Sri Lanka’s new president unveiled a much awaited budget this week, his first since taking up office. The self-proclaimed Marxist leader pledged spending that largely aligned with conditions set out in a $2.9 billion International Monetary Fund (IMF) bailout. But, as commentators have pointed out, the budget demonstrates several inherent weaknesses, including what one senior analyst at Moody’s described as “underlying social constraints”. There is no constraint more glaring than that of the Sri Lankan military which saw its spending allocation continue to grow. For Tamils, this budget signals an unsettling continuation of the Sri Lankan state’s militarised grip over their lands and lives.
Whilst Anura Kumara Dissanayake touted a “focused sense of fiscal discipline, economic vision and guidance”, the 2025 budget does little to rationalise defence spending, which remains one of the single largest expenditures. Salaries, pensions, and operational costs of the military continue to expand, whilst social welfare funding fell. Instead, the ongoing military occupation of the Tamil homeland is enabled by this ever-growing defence budget. The sheer size of the Sri Lankan Army in these regions has remained constant, despite repeated calls from Tamil political parties, civil society groups, and even the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) to demilitarise. It seems this government too remains fixated on maintaining one of the largest per capita militaries in the world, despite the lack of an armed conflict for over 15 years.
Sri Lanka’s militarisation is not just a political problem; it is a huge economic burden. Colombo is struggling under the weight of debt repayments exceeding LKR 4.5 trillion in 2025, yet it refuses to trim its bloated military budget. This is money that could be redirected towards education, healthcare, and employment generation—all of which are suffering due to fiscal constraints. Even international creditors, including the IMF, have raised concerns about Sri Lanka’s inefficient spending patterns, yet the government remains unwilling to make cuts where it matters. Instead, the state continues to treat defence spending as sacrosanct.
For Tamils, this is not just about numbers on a balance sheet. Every rupee spent on defence represents another year of occupation, surveillance, and suppression. The Tamil homeland remains a garrisoned state, where the military intrudes into civilian life and economic development is stifled under the weight of security forces’ control.
The latest budget makes clear that this government, just like those before it, will refuse to tackle the occupation. Even early reports of removing army camps from the North-East have borne no fruit. Not a single camp has been dismantled. Even Sri Lanka’s seemingly progressive prime minister Harini Amarasuriya failed to honour her promise to meet with Tamils in Keppapulavu to discuss the release of their lands. In Jaffna, she was angrily confronted by those that remain displaced by the military. But the new regime has not budged. Before, during, and even after an unprecedented economic crisis, Sri Lanka’s occupation of Tamil Eelam remains.
The Tamil homeland cannot remain a permanent military zone, nor can the state justify spending billions on an army that serves no real purpose beyond intimidation and control. Demilitarisation must remain central to any future political and indeed economic resolution for the island. Until the military’s bloated budget is curtailed, and its role in Tamil civilian life is dismantled, Sri Lanka cannot claim to be on a true path to recovery. A peace defined by military rule is no peace at all.