Features
A visit to Marga
By Uditha Devapriya

“The ideological direction of the journal will be radical in that it will unremittingly question the values and systems that hinder development. It stands for an equitable and humane social order which will eradicate social and economic privilege and which will leave no room for the concentration and arbitrary exercise of power in any form.”
“About Marga”, Marga Journal, Volume I, 1971
A random jaunt in Borella took me and my research assistant to Marga Institute, in my old hometown at Kotte. Sri Lanka’s oldest development think-tank – and Sri Lanka’s oldest such institution – Marga was formed in 1971 to promote and facilitate research into the island’s socioeconomic problems. That its founding coincided with the first JVP insurrection is not fortuitous: as Gamini Samaranayake would point out, the insurrection proved for the first time that an armed group could threaten the State. Among other commentators, Gamini Keerawella, Gananath Obeyesekere, Fred Halliday, and Hector Abhayavardhana grappled with the JVP’s origins, what it was doing, and where it intended to go. It was in the midst of these often-fiery debates and discussions that Marga came to be.
Marga’s origins were linked to two distinct but interrelated developments: the expansion of the country’s welfare system and social services, and the displacement of the old colonial elite. The turning point, obviously, was 1956: a year which, as I have written before, meant many things to many people. Yet whatever the political repercussions of the nationalist-populist wave that swept across the country in its wake, the 1956 election led to a shift in the country’s economic trajectory. This shift may or may not have completely uprooted the old order: as Regi Siriwardena noted in a response to Kumari Jayawardena, 1956 “diverted the discontent of the ‘underprivileged’ into false channels, and thus helped to preserve the fundamental class structure intact.” But its consequences were profound.
The repercussions of these developments were felt more tangibly in the 1960s. During that decade, the country’s population rose by 2.6 million, more than a quarter. This exerted a significant pressure on productive capacity and social services – or to be more specific, as Gamani Corea observed, on “education, health, and other facilities in the social sphere, and above all employment opportunities.” It did not help that the university system was rapidly expanding as well: from 1950 to 1965 the student population rose from a meagre 2,000 to a massive 10,000. What these figures indicate was that more and more people were entering the education system and benefitting from social services, even as the country’s productive capacity was stagnating: it was in this period that Sri Lanka experienced a severe balance of payments crisis, compelling the IMF to form an Aid Group for the country.

LSSP stalwarts
The country, in other words, was facing a classic developmental cul-de-sac. Its social welfare schemes were growing to unsustainable levels, but the economy was not generating the surpluses needed to maintain them. This was as true of university education as of primary and secondary education: from 1956 to 1963, the number of students enrolled in primary and secondary schools jumped from a little less than 170,000 to almost 250,000. Statistics, however, tell us only part of the story: what is more important are the social groups which benefitted from these developments. Simply put, reforms such as the Sinhala Only Act, the nationalisation of schools, and the introduction of the vernacular as a medium of instruction entrenched a Sinhala petty bourgeoisie. This petty bourgeoisie, as Gamini Keerawella has aptly observed, “educated their children in the firm expectation that it was the best possible investment.” A JVP pamphlet from 1970 underlies these expectations clearly:
“Our poor parents having a thousand and one hopes for us spent the fruits of the sweat of their labour on education instead of spending it on food or clothing or building a house. We studied hard, keeping up in the nights, till our eyes ached. We sat examinations. We passed examinations. We obtained degrees… Finally, as a punishment we were forced to loiter in the streets and face the insults and the laughter of the capitalists.”
The contradiction here was an echo or a microcosm of the contradictions buttressing the economy. It was, broadly, a problem of industrialisation, or the lack thereof. An exporter of primary commodities, Sri Lanka had waded through several booms, busts, and slumps since independence. In fact, contrary to what commentators and writers who should know better argue, the economy was stagnating even before 1948: despite a somewhat impressive array of road and rail networks, the country had been run down to the ground by a century and a half of plantation colonialism. There are several ways of diagnosing this problem, and there were fierce debates over what could resolve it: some felt that the plantation sector needed to be encouraged, in the hope it would spur growth. Yet such a prognosis – a trickle-down theory rehashed for settler states – could not resolve the dilemma of a sector which thrived on the very impoverishment of rest of the economy.
In 1957 a group of economists visited Sri Lanka. The group included Joan Robinson and John K. Galbraith. Keynesian in their outlook, they made a sweeping set of recommendations for the country. In the course of her study, the Cambridge educated Robinson made a remark about the country which economists and historians keep returning to: she bluntly observed that “you Ceylonese had eaten the fruit before you planted the tree.” Those quoting her, however, have failed to place this remark in its proper context: Robinson was writing about trade unions, and she was referring to their demand for a greater share of profits and the absence of “energetic, enterprising, and thrifty capitalists” who could be expected to share those profits. Her statement showed clearly that whatever “native capitalists” that Sri Lanka had were not capable of spurring the kind of growth which the country needed, particularly in the face of an expanding public sector and social welfare system.

The Sri Lankan Left tried to tackle this issue in its own special way. It advocated State intervention and the socialisation of the means of production. Yet the Left was undone by two fundamental contradictions. On the one hand, while it had enjoyed some support among the rural masses through the plantation community, the UNP government, facing a formidable threat to their interests, stripped this community of their citizenship, rendering them stateless overnight. On the other hand, the S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike government’s mobilisation of Sinhala nationalist forces deprived the Left of a rural progressive-populist base, and stunted whatever links it had established between the working class and the rural middle-class, or between nationalist and anti-imperialist forces. This made the Left more amenable to the idea of electoral compromise, paving the way for a rapprochement with the SLFP which would divide, weaken, and eventually cripple it.
In any case, the newly emerging rural middle classes in the 1960s spoke a different language and needed to be pandered to by a different political setup. Despite the breakup of the Communist Party into Russian and Chinese factions, there was a perception, widely shared, that neither the comprador elite nor the mainstream Left could resolve the problems of the country. The breakup of the Communist Party and the LSSP’s decision to align with the SLFP led to a tenuous debate in the Left, a debate that was temporarily lulled by the formation of the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP). Whatever illusions the old liberal elite and the Old Left – much of which, after all, hailed from the same Westernised and urban background – shared at this point were fundamentally at odds with the aspirations and the anxieties of the classes which these new parties sought to represent. To quote Regi Siriwardena, “the JVP and the LTTE were children of a different political culture.”
The Old Left had its own views of the JVP, which need not concern us here. Suffice it to say that while the LSSP’s main theoretician, Hector Abhayavardhana, castigated the JVP for veering to the right of right-wing governments and the left of left-wing governments, the likes of N. M. Perera and Colvin R. de Silva summoned the bogey of CIA sponsored military coups to tar the party as a right-wing conspiracy against a left-wing government. This was of course the obverse of what was happening: a left-wing government, elected on a popular mandate, had been threatened by a left-wing group. The JVP, for its part and in pursuit of electoral popularity, equated the UNP with the SLFP, drumming up support among sections of the middle-class, or rural petty bourgeoisie, who had felt let down by both parties. It was in light of these developments that the need for a development research institution, which could examine the country’s developmental dilemmas, was first articulated. Marga Institute emerged from these discussions. Given the scale and complexity of the issues it was seeking solutions for, its contribution had to be seminal, significant, substantive.
The very first issue of the Marga Journal outlined these problems and dilemmas. Edited by Godfrey Gunatilleke, the Journal was overseen by a Board of Management which included Regi Siriwardena and Gamani Corea. The first issue contained articles by some of the top intellectual minds of the day, including Ralph Pieris. The introduction set the tone for the rest of the Journal: in its first paragraph, it pointed out that compared to “the intellectual activity in most other developing countries, Ceylon had little to offer in the form of serious writing by Ceylonese on contemporary social and economic problems.” It then went on to point out the need “for a more productive and socially responsive intellectual community”, which could facilitate research into these problems. In this context, Marga set as its aim the promotion of “the conditions for the growth of a more active intellectual community” in the country. The editorial, however, was aware of the financing issues that could beset such an endeavour, and to this end recommended that it “establish a fund which will initially help to maintain the journal till it is established on a sound financial basis.”
Over the next few decades, Marga’s contribution to development research remained, to say the least, substantive. It set the tone and the pace for other institutions, both independent and State-funded, and became something of a landmark in the context of civil society and academia in the country. To say that is not to belittle, still less ignore, the convulsions in civil society and academia which the institute had to wade through: as Vinod Moonesinghe has observed in a research paper, the neoliberalisation of the country’s economy after 1977 led to a fundamental shift in the way civil society outfits, especially NGOs, operated. Many of these outfits developed a “hegemonic identity” that was more political than economic, or more “rights” oriented than “development” oriented. Ahilan Kadirgamar’s point about the evolution of these institutions, that there has been “a shift away from analysing agriculture and food which research centres focused on four decades ago”, can be reiterated here as well. In that light, Marga remains defiantly symbolic of the alternative paths that think-tank outfits, especially those concerned with development, could have traversed.
This country urgently needs a rehaul if not overhaul of the idea of development, research institutions, and think-tanks. The shift to private sector funding and State patronage – the latter, in my view, much less onerous than the former – has led to a few think-tanks and institutions, concentrated in Colombo and limited to the English-speaking elite and middle-classes, dominating civil society discourse in the country. Organisations like Marga showed that it was possible, in the context of their time, to rethink development, and to raise not just the material-economic but also the moral-ethical dimensions of growth in the Global South. But that was a time when economics was dominated by figures like Gamani Corea, S. B. D. de Silva, and G. V. S. de Silva. Godfrey Gunatilleke, the founder of Marga, is very much active, an indefatigable contributor to development debates in this country. Yet such voices are few and far between. To continue their legacy, to add to what they have contributed, it is necessary to rethink development research. That is what Marga once did, what Marga can once again do, and what Marga in fact should be doing.
The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.
Features
NASA’s Epic Flight, Trump’s Epic Fumble and Asian Dilemmas
Three hours after the spectacular Artemis II flight launch in Florida, US President Donald Trump delivered a forlorn speech from Washington. Thirty three days after starting the war against Iran as Epic Fury, the President demonstrated on national and global televisions the Epic Fumble he has made out of his Middle East ‘excursion’. It was an April Fool’s Day speech, 20 minutes of incoherent rambling with the President looking bored, confused, disengaged and dispirited. He left no one wiser about what will come next, let alone what he might do next.
There was more to April Fool’s Day this year in that it brought out the nation’s good, bad and the ugly, all in a day’s swoop. The good was the Artemis II flight carrying astronauts farther from the Earth’s orbit and closer to the moon for the first time in over 50 years. The mission is a precursor for future flights and will test the performance of a new spacecraft, gather new understanding of human conditioning, and extend the boundaries of lunar science. It is a testament to humankind being able to make steady progress in science and technology at one end of a hopelessly uneven world, while poverty, bigotry and belligerence simmer violently at the other end.
Terrible Trump
The four Artemis II astronauts, three Americans, Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, and Christina Koch, and one Canadian, Jeremy Hansen, are also symptomatic of the endurance of America’s inclusive goodness in spite of efforts by the Trump Administration to snuff the nation’s fledgling DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) ethos. To wit, of the four astronauts, Victor Glover, a Caribbean American, is the first person of colour, Christina Koch the first woman, and Jeremy Hansen of Canada the first non-American – to fly this far beyond the earth’s orbit. All in spite of Trump’s watch.
Yet Trump managed to showcase his commitment to America’s ugliness, on the same day, by presenting himself at the Supreme Court hearing on the constitutionality of his most abominable Executive Order – to stop the American tradition of birthright citizenship. He keeps posting that America is Stupid in being the only country in the world that grants citizenship at birth to everyone born in America, regardless of the status of their parents, except the children of foreign diplomats or members of an occupying enemy force. In fact, there are 32 other countries in the world that grant birthright citizenship, a majority of them in the Americas indicating the continent’s history as a magnet for migrants ever since Christopher Columbus discovered it for the rest of the world.
And birthright citizenship in the US is enshrined in the constitution by the 14th Amendment, supplemented by subsequent legislation and reinforced by a century and a half of case law. Trump wants to reverse that. Thus far and no further was the message from the court at the hearing. A decision is expected in June and the legal betting is whether it would be a 7-2 or 8-1 rebuke for Trump. In a telling exchange during the hearing, when the government’s Solicitor General John Sauer quite sillily dramatized that “we’re in new world now … where eight billion people are one plane ride way from having a child who’s a US citizen,” Chief Justice John Roberts quietly dismissed him: “Well, it’s a new world. It’s the same Constitution!”
Trump’s terrible ‘bad’ is of course the war that he started in the Middle East and doesn’t know how to end it. Margaret MacMillan, acclaimed World War I historian and a great grand daughter of World War I British Prime Minister Lloyd George from Wales, has compared Trump’s current war to the origins of the First World War. Just as in 1914, small Serbia had pulled the bigger Russia into a war that was not in Russia’s interest, so too have Netanyahu and Israel have pulled Trump and America into the current war against Iran. World War I that started in August, 2014 was expected to be over before Christmas, but it went on till November, 2018. Weak leaders start wars, says MacMillan, but “they don’t have a clear idea of how they are going to end.”
There are also geopolitical and national-political differences between the 1910s and 2020s. America’s traditional allies have steadfastly refused to join Trump’s war. And Trump is under immense pressure at home not to extend the war. This is one American war that has been unpopular from day one. The cost of military operations at as high as two billion dollars a day is anathema to the people who are aggravated by rising prices directly because of the war. Trump’s own mental acuity and the abilities of his cabinet Secretaries are openly under question. There are swirling allegations of military contract profiteering and selective defense investments – one involving Secretary of War Pete Hegseth.
Trump’s Administration is coming apart with sharp internal divisions over the war and government paralysis on domestic matters. There are growing signs of disarray – with Trump firing his Attorney General for not being effective prosecuting his political enemies and Secretary Hegseth ordering early retirement for Army Chief of Staff Randy George. In America’s non-parliamentary presidential system, Trump is allowed to run his own forum where he lies daily without instant challenger or contradiction, and it is impossible to get rid of his government by that simple device called no confidence motion.
Asian Dilemmas
Howsoever the current will last or end, what is clear is that its economic consequences are not going to disappear soon. Iran’s choke on the Strait of Hormuz has affected not only the supply and prices of oil and natural gas but a family of other products from fertilizers to medicines to semiconductors. The barrel price of oil has risen from $70 before the war to over $100 now. After Trump’s speech on April 1, oil prices rose and stock prices fell. The higher prices have come to stay and even if they start going down they are not likely to go down to prewar levels.
There are warnings that with high prices, low growth and unemployment, the global economy is believed to be in for a stagflation shock like in the 1970s. Even if the war were to end sooner than a lot later, the economic setbacks will not be reversed easily or quickly. Supplies alone will take time to get back into routine, and it will even take longer time for production in the Gulf countries to get back to speed. Not only imports, but even export trading and exports to Middle East countries will be impacted. The future of South Asians employed in the Middle East is also at stake.
In 1980, President Carter floated the Carter Doctrine that the US would use military force to ensure the free flow of oil through the Strait of Hormuz. Trump is now upending that doctrine – first by misusing America’s military force against Iran and provoking the strait’s closure, and then claiming that keeping the strait open is not America’s business. Ever selfish and transactional, Trump’s argument is that America is now a net exporter of oil and is no longer dependent on Middle East oil.
To fill in the void, and perhaps responding to Trump’s call to “build up some delayed courage,” UK has hosted a virtual meeting of about 40 countries to discuss modalities for reopening the Strait of Hormuz. US was not one of them. While Downing Street has not released a full list of attendees, European countries, some Gulf countries, Canada, Australia, Japan and India reportedly attended the meeting. Which other Asian countries attended the meeting is not known.
British Foreign Secretary Yvette Cooper has blamed Iran for “hijacking” an international shipping route to “hold the global economy hostage,” while insisting that the British initiative is “not based on any other country’s priority or anything in terms of the US or other countries”. French President Emmanuel Macron now visiting South Korea has emphasized any resolution “can only be done in concert with Iran. So, first and foremost, there must be a ceasefire and a resumption of negotiations.”
Prior to the British initiative focussed on the Strait of Hormuz, Egypt, Pakistan and Türkiye have been playing a backdoor intermediary role to facilitate communications between the US and Iran. Trump as usual magnified this backroom channel as serious talks initiated by Iran’s ‘new regime’, and Trump’s claims were promptly rejected by Iran. There were speculations that Pakistan would host a direct meeting between US Vice President JD Vance and an Iranian representative in Islamabad. So far, only the foreign ministers of Egypt, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye have met in Islamabad, and Pakistan’s Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar flew to Beijing to brief his Chinese counterpart, Wang Yi, of Pakistan’s diplomatic efforts.
The Beijing visit produced a five-point initiative calling for a ceasefire, the opening of the Strait of Hormuz and diplomacy instead of escalation. The five-point pathway seems a follow up to the 15-point demand that the US sent to Iran through the three Samaritan intermediaries which Iran rejected as they did not include any of Iran’s priorities. The state of these mediating efforts are now unclear after President Trump’s April Fool’s Day rambling. In fairness, Pakistan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs has announced that his country intends to keep ‘nudging’ the US and Iran towards resuming negotiations and ending the war.
While these efforts are welcome and deserve everyone’s best wishes, they have also led to what BBC has called the “chatter in Delhi” – “is India being sidelined” by Pakistan’s intermediary efforts? Indian Foreign Minister Jaishankar’s rather undiplomatic characterization of Pakistan’s role as “dalali” (brokerage) provoked immediate denunciation in Islamabad, while Indian opposition parties are blaming the Modi Government’s foreign policy stances as an “embarrassment” to India’s stature.
The larger view is that while it is Asia that is most impacted by the closure of Hormuz, with Singapore’s Foreign Affairs Minister Vivian Balakrishnan calling it an “Asian crisis”, Asia has no leverage in the matter and Asian countries have to make special arrangements with Iran to let their ships navigate through the Strait of Hormuz. There is no pathway for co-ordinated action. China is still significant but not consequentially effective. India’s all-alignment foreign policy has made it less significant and more vulnerable in the current crisis. And Pakistan has opened a third dimension to Asia’s dilemmas.
In the circumstances, it is fair to say that Sri Lanka is the most politically stable country among its South Asian neighbours. Put another way, Sri Lanka has a remarkably consensual and uncontentious government in comparison to the old governments in India and Pakistan, and even the new government in Bangladesh. But that may not be saying much unless the NPP government proves itself to be sufficiently competent, and uses the political stability and the general goodwill it is still enjoying, to put the country’s economic department in order. More on that later.
by Rajan Philips
Features
Ranjith Siyambalapitiya turns custodian of a rare living collection
From Parliament to Fruit Grove:
After more than two decades in politics, rising to the positions of Cabinet Minister and Deputy Speaker of Parliament, Ranjith Siyambalapitiya has turned his attention to a markedly different arena — one far removed from parliamentary debate and political intrigue.
Today, Siyambalapitiya spends much of his time tending to a sprawling 15-acre home garden at Vendala in Karawanella, near Ruwanwella, nurturing what has gradually evolved into one of the most remarkable private fruit collections in the country.
Situated in Sri Lanka’s Wet Zone Low Country agro-ecological region (WL2), Ruwanwella lies at an elevation of roughly 100–200 metres above sea level. Deep red-yellow podzolic soils, annual rainfall exceeding 2,500 millimetres, and a warm humid tropical climate combine to create conditions that make the region one of the richest areas in the island for fruit tree diversity.
Within this favourable ecological setting, Siyambalapitiya has become what may best be described as a custodian of a living collection—a fruit grove that now contains around 554 fruit trees and vines, many of them rare or seldom seen in contemporary agriculture.
Of these, 448 varieties have already been properly identified and documented with the assistance of agriculturist Dr. Suba Heenkenda, a retired expert of the Department of Agriculture. Together they have undertaken the painstaking task of cataloguing the plants by their botanical names, common Sinhala names, and the names used in ancient Ayurvedic and indigenous medical texts, assigning each species a unique identification number.
According to Siyambalapitiya, the Vendala estate is possibly the only single location in Sri Lanka where such a large number of fruit varieties—particularly rare and underutilized species—are maintained within one property.
“This garden came down to me through my grandfather, grandmother, mother and father,” he says. “It is a place shaped by three generations.”
The estate, he explains, began as a traditional home garden where crops such as tea, coconut and rubber were cultivated alongside fruit trees planted by family members over decades. Over time, however, it evolved into something much larger: a carefully nurtured grove preserving both common and obscure fruit species.
Siyambalapitiya recalls with affection one of the oldest trees in the garden—a honey-jack tree known locally as “Lokumänike’s Rata Kos Gaha.”
The story behind it has become part of family lore. According to village elders, his grandmother had brought home the sapling after visiting the Colombo Grand Exhibition in 1952 many decades ago and planted it near the house.
The tree soon gained fame in the village. Its tender jackfruit proved ideal for curry and mallum, while the ripe fruit was renowned for its sweetness.
“Ripe jackfruit from this tree tastes like honey itself,” Siyambalapitiya says. “Even the seeds are full of flour and can be eaten throughout the year.”
Yet age has not spared the venerable tree. It now shows signs of disease, and Siyambalapitiya and his staff have had to treat old wounds and monitor unusual bark damage.
“Once lightning struck it,” he recalls. “The largest branch began to die. Saving the tree required what I would call a kind of surgical operation.”
Such care, he says, reflects the deep attachment he feels toward the collection.
His fascination with fruit trees began in childhood. While attending Royal College in Colombo and living in a boarding house he disliked, Siyambalapitiya would insist that the family procure new fruit saplings for him to plant during his weekend visits home.
“That was the only ‘price’ I demanded for going to school,” he laughs.
Over the years the collection expanded steadily as he encountered new plants in forests, nurseries, and rural landscapes across the island.
The result today is a grove that includes traditional Sri Lankan fruit species, underutilized native varieties, forest fruits, and plants introduced from overseas.
Some species originate in Arabian deserts, while others thrive naturally in cooler climates such as Europe. Certain plants require greenhouse-like conditions, while others are hardy forest trees.
Managing such diversity is no easy task.
“One plant asks for rain, another asks for cold, and yet another prefers heat,” Siyambalapitiya explains. “Too much rain makes some sick, too much sun troubles others. The older trees overshadow the younger ones. You cannot feed or medicate them all in the same way.”
He compares the task to caring for a household filled with people from many nations and ages—each with different needs.
Despite the challenges, he believes the effort is worthwhile, particularly because many of the trees are native species that have become increasingly rare.
“If things continue as they are, some of these plants may disappear from our lives,” he warns.
To preserve knowledge about them, Siyambalapitiya is preparing to launch a book titled “Mage Vendala Palathuru Arana” (My Vendala Fruit Grove), which serves as an introductory guide to the collection.
The book, scheduled for release on April 18 at the Vendala estate, will be attended by Ven. Dr. Kirinde Assaji Thera, Chief Incumbent of Gangaramaya Temple,
Uruwarige Wannila Aththo, the leader of the Indigenous Vedda Community,
a long-serving former employee who helped maintain the plantation, and Sunday Dhamma school students from the region, who will participate as guests of honour.
The publication will also mark Siyambalapitiya’s eighth book. Previously he authored seven works and wrote more than 500 weekly newspaper columns offering commentary on politics and current affairs.
While working on the fruit catalogue, he is simultaneously writing another volume reflecting on his 25-year political career, including his tenure as Deputy Finance Minister during Sri Lanka’s most severe economic crisis.
For Siyambalapitiya, however, the fruit grove represents more than a hobby or academic exercise.
“The fruit we enjoy is the result of a tree’s effort to reproduce,” he says. “Nature has given fruits their taste, fragrance and colour to attract us. All the tree asks in return is that its seeds be carried to new places.”
That simple cycle of life, he believes, has continued for tens of thousands of years.
“And those who love trees,” he adds, “are guardians of the world’s survival.”
by Saman Indrajith
Pix by Tharanga Ratnaweera
- Four workers in charge of the four zones of the plantation
- Siyamabalapitiya explaning the evolution of plantation
- A foreign berry plant
- A Bakumba plant
- A rare jackfruit tree
- Siyambalapitiya pruning Pumkin Lemon plant
- Siyamabalapitiya explaning the evolution of plantation
Features
Smoke Free Sweden calls out to WHO not to suggest nicotine alternatives
It has been reported by the international advocacy initiative, ‘Smoke Free Sweden’ (‘SFS’) that many International health experts have begun criticizing the World Health Organization (WHO) for presenting safer nicotine alternatives rather than recognizing its role in accelerating decline in smoking.
As the world’s premier technical health agency, the WHO is empowered to support strategies that reduce morbidity and mortality even if they do not eliminate the underlying behaviour. Furthermore, it should base its guidance on evolving scientific knowledge, which includes comparative-risk assessments. Equating smoke-free nicotine alternatives with combustible cigarettes, is essentially putting lives at risk, according to the health experts contacted by SFS.
The warning follows recent WHO comments suggesting that vaping and other non-combustible nicotine products are driving tobacco use in Europe. This narrative ignores real-world evidence from countries like Sweden where access to safer alternatives has coincided with record low smoking rates.
A “Smoke-Free” status is defined as an adult daily smoking prevalence below 5% and Sweden is on the brink of officially achieving this milestone. This is clear proof that pragmatic harm-reduction policies work. Sweden’s success has been driven by adult smokers switching to lower-risk alternatives such as oral tobacco pouches (Snus), oral nicotine pouches and other non-combustible products.
“Vapes and pouches are helping to reduce risk, and Sweden’s smoke-free transition proves this,” said Dr Delon Human, leader of Smoke Free Sweden. “We should be celebrating policies that help smokers quit combustible tobacco, not spreading fear about the very tools that are accelerating the decline of cigarettes.”
It is further reported by health experts that conflating cigarettes with non-combustible alternatives risks deterring smokers from switching and could slow progress toward reducing tobacco-related disease.
Dr Human emphasized that youth protection and harm reduction are not mutually exclusive.
“It is critically important to safeguard against underage use, but this should be done by targeted, risk-proportionate regulation and proper enforcement, not by sacrificing the right of adults to access products that might save their lives,” he said.
Smoke Free Sweden is calling on global health authorities to adopt evidence-based policies that distinguish clearly between combustible tobacco – the primary cause of tobacco-related death – and lower-risk nicotine alternatives.
“Public health policy must be grounded in science and real-world outcomes,” Dr Human added. “Sweden’s experience shows that when adult smokers are given legal access to safer nicotine alternatives, smoking rates fall faster than almost anywhere else in the world.”
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