Who Will Tame the Beasts on Our Roads?

Sri Lanka's public road transport has long been a menace on the roads. For decades, citizens have endured the daily trauma of riding in filthy, overcrowded, and dangerously maintained buses, often driven by men who appear to treat roads like racetracks. Public transport, instead of being a symbol of convenience and safety, has mutated into a moving hazard. What’s worse is the widespread sense of impunity that emboldens such behaviour.

Passengers are neither treated with dignity nor transported with care. Many are forced to cling to handrails for dear life, endure ear-splitting music, and inhale noxious exhaust fumes. Add to that the daily reports of reckless overtaking, red-light jumping, and frequent collisions, and it becomes painfully clear: the system is broken.

The Sri Lanka Police, tasked with upholding road safety, appears more interested in extracting bribes than enforcing the law. Traffic violations go unchecked, and in the rare event that a serious accident draws media attention, the response is disturbingly performative. Politicians visit the site, make teary-eyed statements, and promise inquiries that fade with the next news cycle. But systemic change? Nowhere in sight.

The reason for this inaction lies, in part, in political cowardice. Public transport unions—particularly those tied to the state-run Sri Lanka Transport Board (SLTB)—wield disproportionate influence. Governments fear their backlash, especially in election years, and as a result, accountability is postponed indefinitely.

It doesn't have to be this way.

Imagine a policy where a driver’s license is directly tied to vehicle insurance premiums. If you're a repeat offender, your insurance cost skyrockets—not just for you, but also for the employer who hired you. This economic disincentive could force bus owners and transport companies to think twice before hiring reckless drivers. After all, a high-risk driver becomes a financial liability.

But for this to work, the government must enforce it across the board, especially within its own fleet. If the SLTB refuses to comply, it will render the initiative toothless. Without parity between the private and public sectors, there can be no sustainable reform.

The challenge before us is not technical but political and cultural. We must create a system where safety is incentivized and recklessness is punished. People, too, have a role to play. Civic activism, consumer pressure, and consistent media coverage can shame authorities into action. Riders must be encouraged to report misconduct, and technology can assist: GPS tracking, speed governors, and public dashboards for complaints could usher in transparency.

So, what can people do to enter this sector and be part of the change?

Young entrepreneurs with a vision for safe, efficient travel should be supported to start model transport services. With government grants or low-interest loans, they could introduce a new class of commuter services—clean, punctual, and professionally managed. Technology platforms can help connect these services with the public, bypassing the chaos of bus stands and rogue operators.

In the end, this isn’t just a battle for better buses—it’s a battle for our collective dignity and safety. It’s time we stopped normalizing death and disorder on our roads. Until someone dares to tame the beasts, we will all remain at their mercy.