By Sarath Obeysekera

Sri Lanka is once again at a crossroads. One road leads towards disciplined economic recovery. The other leads towards highways crowded with imported luxury vehicles, fuel queues, foreign debt, and another collapse of the rupee.

For decades, politicians treated motor vehicle imports as if they were distributing sweets during an election campaign. Every time restrictions were relaxed, luxury SUVs, double cabs, and fuel-hungry monsters flooded Colombo roads while the nation’s dollar reserves quietly bled to death.

Now the same middle class that once celebrated vehicle permits” cries foul when taxes rise.

But let us ask honestly: can a small island nation survive by importing expensive toys while borrowing dollars to buy fuel?

Countries far richer than Sri Lanka impose restrictions.

In Japan, buying a vehicle is not merely walking into a showroom. One must prove availability of parking and satisfy regulations before ownership approval.

In Singapore, owning a car is considered a privilege, not a birthright. Certificates, taxes, and congestion controls make people think twice before buying vehicles.

Yet in Sri Lanka, every family dreams of multiple vehicles while roads resemble parking lots and buses race like Formula One drivers possessed by demons.

The irony is remarkable.

The same people who condemn taxation happily spend millions on luxury vehicles, imported liquor, mobile phones, and weekend hotel buffets. Then they complain about economic hardship while demanding cheaper fuel and lower taxes.

Governments everywhere tax human weakness.

Britain sells dreams through lotteries and betting culture. Sri Lanka does the same through Govisetha,” Mega Wasana,” and endless gambling schemes marketed to the poor. The state quietly profits while citizens chase miracles.

At least taxing luxury vehicles extracts money from those who can afford excess consumption.

The uncomfortable truth is that Sri Lanka cannot become another Dubai while earning like Bangladesh.

The Middle East conflict and global instability are already affecting oil prices. Every imported luxury vehicle becomes another permanent burden on national fuel consumption. When thousands of unnecessary SUVs enter the country, the nation is effectively importing future fuel bills for the next fifteen years.

Meanwhile, discipline has vanished from the roads.

Private buses behave like guided missiles. Three-wheelers perform circus acts between lanes. Traffic offences are treated as jokes. Fines should be doubled or tripled, especially for reckless public transport operators who turn highways into death traps.

If the Treasury needs revenue, collect it from road chaos and luxury consumption instead of squeezing essential industries.

Some politicians now suggest that housewives should enter the workforce because rising taxes and living costs have made single-income families unsustainable. That statement alone reveals the depth of Sri Lanka’s economic crisis.

Older generations remember the Soviet Union — a society where luxury was scarce and survival mattered more than image. There were jokes that the cheapest vodka was practically distilled from petroleum while premium vodka was reserved for the elite.

Sri Lanka risks entering a similar era where appearance replaces productivity and consumption replaces national discipline.

Perhaps restricting expensive vehicle imports is not madness after all.

Perhaps it is one of the few sane decisions left.

A country that cannot feed itself, export competitively, or earn sufficient foreign exchange has no business pretending to be a luxury automobile paradise.

Economic recovery requires sacrifice, discipline, and realism.

Not another imported SUV with tinted windows and a patriotic sticker on the back.

like නැගිටිමු Sri Lanka

Regards

Dr Sarath Obeysekera