Features
Blaming Bandaranaike
By Uditha Devapriya
In a recent interview with Faraz Shauketaly, Sunethra Bandaranaike criticised her father’s Sinhala Only legislation, admitting that it had been a mistake. It was a remarkably frank mea culpa moment, but it provoked much debate on social media. There were those who agreed with her and those who did not, and there were those who dismissed her remarks as too little, too late. I find myself in neither of these categories, but if I have to categorise myself, I would locate myself somewhere in-between Type 1 and Type 2. There is no point dismissing her remarks: that is a cop-out, and cop-outs just will not do, particularly with respect to issues which affect and afflict this country today, like Sinhala Only.
There is a critique to be made of many of S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike’s policies. My point is not that we should stop invoking such critique, but that we should be mindful of the policies that were in place before his premiership. My point is that while “Sinhala Only” may have been a mistake – and there are good reasons to say it was and equally good reasons to say it wasn’t – the pre-Sinhala Only climate was hardly better. In fact, the status quo prior to 1956 wasn’t just flawed. It was also fundamentally unsustainable. Being unsustainable, it had to be reworked, reconfigured, and opened to reform. If the leadership of the day did none of these things and provided an opening to populist politics of the most divisive form, who should we blame: the populist who found that opening, or those who gave him one?
Sinhala Only, in fact, amounted to the contortion of a progressive ideal: the replacement of English with Sinhala and Tamil at the highest levels, including the police and the courts. This had been originally proposed by the LSSP, but as is typical of such proposals, it had been hijacked for less than progressive ends by the Sinhala bourgeoisie and their petty bourgeois fellow travellers.
I rather prefer Hector Abhayavardhana’s description of the bourgeoisie here: he saw them as “small men with narrow vision.” By contrast, Dayan Jayatilleka views that bourgeoisie, which formed the upper crust of the Ceylon National Congress, as having possessed a progressive potential. My argument incorporates both these perspectives: the fact of the matter is that the colonial bourgeoisie were not farsighted or progressive enough to advocate the policies pushed by the far more cosmopolitan Left. I always return to Dayan Jayatilleka’s diagnosis: Sri Lanka, he once noted, “never had a Nehru.”
The same can be said of Bandaranaike’s decision to leave the UNP and form the SLFP. At its inception, the SLFP drew its strength from the ostensibly “anti-imperialist” chapter of the Sinhala petty bourgeoisie. The latter were hardly sympathetic to Marxist ideals, such as the Left’s advocacy of a secular State, its commitment to religious neutrality, and its perceived hostility to culture, religion, and tradition. Yet Bandaranaike fashioned the SLFP as a middle-way between the high-strung but inarticulate nationalism of the Sinhala petty bourgeoisie and the Old Left. Here, he failed to see a contradiction between the two. Animated by liberal ideals, Bandaranaike thus, eventually. spawned the antithesis of those ideals.
Yet, while granting and conceding all this, I find most criticisms of Bandaranaike’s policies – including those by his family – to be misplaced if not inadequate. The fact of the matter was that no party vying for power could avoid the language question. The latter had, by 1956, formed a crucial part of the National Question. The only viable solution at the time was to enthrone Sinhala and Tamil. Two developments, in fact, made this not just possible but also inevitable: the right to vote, granted in 1931, and the enactment of Free Education 14 years later. The more reactionary sections of the elite saw these as antithetical to their interests and opposed both. Not surprisingly, they would later attribute the excesses of Sinhala Only, and of 1956 as a whole, to the failures of such reforms.
This is why claims that we would all have been communicating in English well had laws such as Sinhala Only not been enacted amuse me. What they reveal is a crass ignorance of the situation that prevailed before 1956, specifically before 1945, when Free Education finally saw the light of day – despite, I must add, the opposition of individuals now celebrated and adulated as national heroes.
1956, in this sense, enabled not so much a deterioration as an efflorescence. In politics it led to two outcomes. On the debit side, it made people much less subservient to the political class, particularly through reforms like the abolition of the village headman’s post: reforms which had been rigorously advocated by the Marxist Left. On the credit side, it enabled that class to resort to false channels, such as race, to divert attention from more important issues. What we must do now is to address the latter limitation while building on the former strength, without uncritically condemning 1956.
Ultimately, my critique of 1956, and Sinhala Only, is the same as my critique of the Ceylon National Congress: that it did not produce a modernising class. In the case of the Ceylon National Congress, we ended up with the most conservative, bigoted, and opportunistic elite in South Asia, possibly Asia. In the case of Sinhala Only, we ended up with a woolly-headed and utterly prejudiced petty bourgeoisie, who supplanted the conservative bourgeoisie but did not really replace it. This petty bourgeoisie, in fact, is today at the forefront of critiquing the very reforms which empowered them: an irony that should not be lost on anyone. I think Kumari Jayawardena has provided us with the best critique of this class.
“The petty bourgeoisie in Sri Lanka has… been a class with contradictory aspirations. It has defended tradition and promoted revivalism, while advocating modernity and scientific progress; it has advanced religion as part of culture, and denounced religion as superstition; it has been both parochial and cosmopolitan.”
In Sri Lanka, it is this petty bourgeoisie, in toto, which benefited from 1956. Given their numerical preponderance, it is the Sinhala petty bourgeoisie which benefited from Sinhala Only. One is forced to evaluate the political literacy of this class, and to question whether the political project of 1956 achieved its aim of transforming it into a modernising force. That it has not, so far – the petty bourgeoisie remain incapable of such a task – should tell us that something has gone wrong with 1956. This is my critique of Sinhala Only: not that it took us away from the “good old days” prior to 1956 – which never existed – but that it contorted a progressive ideal and hijacked a project which could have emancipated us. Today we remain shackled and enslaved. For that, we have only ourselves to blame.
The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.
Features
Lasting solutions require consensus
Problems and solutions in plural societies like Sri Lanka’s which have deep rooted ethnic, religious and linguistic cleavages require a consciously inclusive approach. A major challenge for any government in Sri Lanka is to correctly identify the problems faced by different groups with strong identities and find solutions to them. The durability of democratic systems in divided societies depends less on electoral victories than on institutionalised inclusion, consultation, and negotiated compromise. When problems are defined only through the lens of a single political formation, even one that enjoys a large electoral mandate, such as obtained by the NPP government, the policy prescriptions derived from that diagnosis will likely overlook the experiences of communities that may remain outside the ruling party. The result could end up being resistance to those policies, uneven implementation and eventual political backlash.
A recent survey done by the National Peace Council (NPC), in Jaffna, in the North, at a focus group discussion for young people on citizen perception in the electoral process, revealed interesting developments. The results of the NPC micro survey support the findings of the national survey by Verite Research that found that government approval rating stood at 65 percent in early February 2026. A majority of the respondents in Jaffna affirm that they feel safer and more fairly treated than in the past. There is a clear improving trend to be seen in some areas, but not in all. This survey of predominantly young and educated respondents shows 78 percent saying livelihood has improved and an equal percentage feeling safe in daily life. 75 percent express satisfaction with the new government and 64 percent believe the state treats their language and culture fairly. These are not insignificant gains in a region that bore the brunt of three decades of war.
Yet the same survey reveals deep reservations that temper this optimism. Only 25 percent are satisfied with the handling of past issues. An equal percentage see no change in land and military related concerns. Most strikingly, almost 90 percent are worried about land being taken without consent for religious purposes. A significant number are uncertain whether the future will be better. These negative sentiments cannot be brushed aside as marginal. They point to unresolved structural questions relating to land rights, demilitarisation, accountability and the locus of political power. If these issues are not addressed sooner rather than later, the current stability may prove fragile. This suggests the need to build consensus with other parties to ensure long-term stability and legitimacy, and the need for partnership to address national issues.
NPP Absence
National or local level problems solving is unlikely to be successful in the longer term if it only proceeds from the thinking of one group of people even if they are the most enlightened. Problem solving requires the engagement of those from different ethno-religious, caste and political backgrounds to get a diversity of ideas and possible solutions. It does not mean getting corrupted or having to give up the good for the worse. It means testing ideas in the public sphere. Legitimacy flows not merely from winning elections but from the quality of public reasoning that precedes decision-making. The experience of successful post-conflict societies shows that long term peace and development are built through dialogue platforms where civil society organisations, political actors, business communities, and local representatives jointly define problems before negotiating policy responses.
As a civil society organisation, the National Peace Council engages in a variety of public activities that focus on awareness and relationship building across communities. Participants in those activities include community leaders, religious clergy, local level government officials and grassroots political party representatives. However, along with other civil society organisations, NPC has been finding it difficult to get the participation of members of the NPP at those events. The excuse given for the absence of ruling party members is that they are too busy as they are involved in a plenitude of activities. The question is whether the ruling party members have too much on their plate or whether it is due to a reluctance to work with others.
The general belief is that those from the ruling party need to get special permission from the party hierarchy for activities organised by groups not under their control. The reluctance of the ruling party to permit its members to join the activities of other organisations may be the concern that they will get ideas that are different from those held by the party leadership. The concern may be that these different ideas will either corrupt the ruling party members or cause dissent within the ranks of the ruling party. But lasting reform in a plural society requires precisely this exposure. If 90 percent of surveyed youth in Jaffna are worried about land issues, then engaging them, rather than shielding party representatives from uncomfortable conversations, is essential for accurate problem identification.
North Star
The Leader of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP), Prof Tissa Vitarana, who passed away last week, gave the example for national level problem solving. As a government minister he took on the challenge the protracted ethnic conflict that led to three decades of war. He set his mind on the solution and engaged with all but never veered from his conviction about what the solution would be. This was the North Star to him, said his son to me at his funeral, the direction to which the Compass (Malimawa) pointed at all times. Prof Vitarana held the view that in a diverse and plural society there was a need to devolve power and share power in a structured way between the majority community and minority communities. His example illustrates that engagement does not require ideological capitulation. It requires clarity of purpose combined with openness to dialogue.
The ethnic and religious peace that prevails today owes much to the efforts of people like Prof Vitarana and other like-minded persons and groups which, for many years, engaged as underdogs with those who were more powerful. The commitment to equality of citizenship, non-racism, non-extremism and non-discrimination, upheld by the present government, comes from this foundation. But the NPC survey suggests that symbolic recognition and improved daily safety are not enough. Respondents prioritise personal safety, truth regarding missing persons, return of land, language use and reduction of military involvement. They are also asking for jobs after graduation, local economic opportunity, protection of property rights, and tangible improvements that allow them to remain in Jaffna rather than migrate.
If solutions are to be lasting they cannot be unilaterally imposed by one party on the others. Lasting solutions cannot be unilateral solutions. They must emerge from a shared diagnosis of the country’s deepest problems and from a willingness to address the negative sentiments that persist beneath the surface of cautious optimism. Only then can progress be secured against reversal and anchored in the consent of the wider polity. Engaging with the opposition can help mitigate the hyper-confrontational and divisive political culture of the past. This means that the ruling party needs to consider not only how to protect its existing members by cloistering them from those who think differently but also expand its vision and membership by convincing others to join them in problem solving at multiple levels. This requires engagement and not avoidance or withdrawal.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Unpacking public responses to educational reforms
As the debate on educational reforms rages, I find it useful to pay as much attention to the reactions they have excited as we do to the content of the reforms. Such reactions are a reflection of how education is understood in our society, and this understanding – along with the priorities it gives rise to – must necessarily be taken into account in education policy, including and especially reform. My aim in this piece, however, is to couple this public engagement with critical reflection on the historical-structural realities that structure our possibilities in the global market, and briefly discuss the role of academics in this endeavour.
Two broad reactions
The reactions to the proposed reforms can be broadly categorised into ‘pro’ and ‘anti’. I will discuss the latter first. Most of the backlash against the reforms seems to be directed at the issue of a gay dating site, accidentally being linked to the Grade 6 English module. While the importance of rigour cannot be overstated in such a process, the sheer volume of the energies concentrated on this is also indicative of how hopelessly homophobic our society is, especially its educators, including those in trade unions. These dispositions are a crucial part of the reason why educational reforms are needed in the first place. If only there was a fraction of the interest in ‘keeping up with the rest of the world’ in terms of IT, skills, and so on, in this area as well!
Then there is the opposition mounted by teachers’ trade unions and others about the process of the reforms not being very democratic, which I (and many others in higher education, as evidenced by a recent statement, available at https://island.lk/general-educational-reforms-to-what-purpose-a-statement-by-state-university-teachers/ ) fully agree with. But I earnestly hope the conversation is not usurped by those wanting to promote heteronormativity, further entrenching bigotry only education itself can save us from. With this important qualification, I, too, believe the government should open up the reform process to the public, rather than just ‘informing’ them of it.
It is unclear both as to why the process had to be behind closed doors, as well as why the government seems to be in a hurry to push the reforms through. Considering other recent developments, like the continued extension of emergency rule, tabling of the Protection of the State from Terrorism Act (PSTA), and proposing a new Authority for the protection of the Central Highlands (as is famously known, Authorities directly come under the Executive, and, therefore, further strengthen the Presidency; a reasonable question would be as to why the existing apparatus cannot be strengthened for this purpose), this appears especially suspect.
Further, according to the Secretary to the MOE Nalaka Kaluwewa: “The full framework for the [education] reforms was already in place [when the Dissanayake government took office]” (https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2025/08/12/wxua-a12.html, citing The Morning, July 29). Given the ideological inclinations of the former Wickremesinghe government and the IMF negotiations taking place at the time, the continuation of education reforms, initiated in such a context with very little modification, leaves little doubt as to their intent: to facilitate the churning out of cheap labour for the global market (with very little cushioning from external shocks and reproducing global inequalities), while raising enough revenue in the process to service debt.
This process privileges STEM subjects, which are “considered to contribute to higher levels of ‘employability’ among their graduates … With their emphasis on transferable skills and demonstrable competency levels, STEM subjects provide tools that are well suited for the abstraction of labour required by capitalism, particularly at the global level where comparability across a wide array of labour markets matters more than ever before” (my own previous piece in this column on 29 October 2024). Humanities and Social Sciences (HSS) subjects are deprioritised as a result. However, the wisdom of an education policy that is solely focused on responding to the global market has been questioned in this column and elsewhere, both because the global market has no reason to prioritise our needs as well as because such an orientation comes at the cost of a strategy for improving the conditions within Sri Lanka, in all sectors. This is why we need a more emancipatory vision for education geared towards building a fairer society domestically where the fruits of prosperity are enjoyed by all.
The second broad reaction to the reforms is to earnestly embrace them. The reasons behind this need to be taken seriously, although it echoes the mantra of the global market. According to one parent participating in a protest against the halting of the reform process: “The world is moving forward with new inventions and technology, but here in Sri Lanka, our children are still burdened with outdated methods. Opposition politicians send their children to international schools or abroad, while ours depend on free education. Stopping these reforms is the lowest act I’ve seen as a mother” (https://www.newsfirst.lk/2026/01/17/pro-educational-reforms-protests-spread-across-sri-lanka). While it is worth mentioning that it is not only the opposition, nor in fact only politicians, who send their children to international schools and abroad, the point holds. Updating the curriculum to reflect the changing needs of a society will invariably strengthen the case for free education. However, as mentioned before, if not combined with a vision for harnessing education’s emancipatory potential for the country, such a move would simply translate into one of integrating Sri Lanka to the world market to produce cheap labour for the colonial and neocolonial masters.
According to another parent in a similar protest: “Our children were excited about lighter schoolbags and a better future. Now they are left in despair” (https://www.newsfirst.lk/2026/01/17/pro-educational-reforms-protests-spread-across-sri-lanka). Again, a valid concern, but one that seems to be completely buying into the rhetoric of the government. As many pieces in this column have already shown, even though the structure of assessments will shift from exam-heavy to more interim forms of assessment (which is very welcome), the number of modules/subjects will actually increase, pushing a greater, not lesser, workload on students.

A file photo of a satyagraha against education reforms
What kind of education?
The ‘pro’ reactions outlined above stem from valid concerns, and, therefore, need to be taken seriously. Relatedly, we have to keep in mind that opening the process up to public engagement will not necessarily result in some of the outcomes, those particularly in the HSS academic community, would like to see, such as increasing the HSS component in the syllabus, changing weightages assigned to such subjects, reintroducing them to the basket of mandatory subjects, etc., because of the increasing traction of STEM subjects as a surer way to lock in a good future income.
Academics do have a role to play here, though: 1) actively engage with various groups of people to understand their rationales behind supporting or opposing the reforms; 2) reflect on how such preferences are constituted, and what they in turn contribute towards constituting (including the global and local patterns of accumulation and structures of oppression they perpetuate); 3) bring these reflections back into further conversations, enabling a mutually conditioning exchange; 4) collectively work out a plan for reforming education based on the above, preferably in an arrangement that directly informs policy. A reform process informed by such a dialectical exchange, and a system of education based on the results of these reflections, will have greater substantive value while also responding to the changing times.
Two important prerequisites for this kind of endeavour to succeed are that first, academics participate, irrespective of whether they publicly endorsed this government or not, and second, that the government responds with humility and accountability, without denial and shifting the blame on to individuals. While we cannot help the second, we can start with the first.
Conclusion
For a government that came into power riding the wave of ‘system change’, it is perhaps more important than for any other government that these reforms are done for the right reasons, not to mention following the right methods (of consultation and deliberation). For instance, developing soft skills or incorporating vocational education to the curriculum could be done either in a way that reproduces Sri Lanka’s marginality in the global economic order (which is ‘system preservation’), or lays the groundwork to develop a workforce first and foremost for the country, limited as this approach may be. An inextricable concern is what is denoted by ‘the country’ here: a few affluent groups, a majority ethno-religious category, or everyone living here? How we define ‘the country’ will centrally influence how education policy (among others) will be formulated, just as much as the quality of education influences how we – students, teachers, parents, policymakers, bureaucrats, ‘experts’ – think about such categories. That is precisely why more thought should go to education policymaking than perhaps any other sector.
(Hasini Lecamwasam is attached to the Department of Political Science, University of Peradeniya).
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Chef’s daughter cooking up a storm…
Don Sherman was quite a popular figure in the entertainment scene but now he is better known as the Singing Chef and that’s because he turns out some yummy dishes at his restaurant, in Rajagiriya.
However, now the spotlight is gradually focusing on his daughter Emma Shanaya who has turned out to be a very talented singer.
In fact, we have spotlighted her in The Island a couple of times and she is in the limelight, once gain.
When Emma released her debut music video, titled ‘You Made Me Feel,’ the feedback was very encouraging and at that point in time she said “I only want to keep doing bigger and greater things and ‘You Made Me Feel’ is the very first step to a long journey.”
Emma, who resides in Melbourne, Australia, is in Sri Lanka, at the moment, and has released her very first Sinhala single.
“I’m back in Sri Lanka with a brand new single and this time it’s a Sinhalese song … yes, my debut Sinhala song ‘Sanasum Mawana’ (Bloom like a Flower).
“This song is very special to me as I wrote the lyrics in English and then got it translated and re-written by my mother, and my amazing and very talented producer Thilina Boralessa. Thilina also composed the music, and mix and master of the track.”
Emma went on to say that instead of a love song, or a young romance, she wanted to give the Sri Lankan audience a debut song with some meaning and substance that will portray her, not only as an artiste, but as the person she is.
Says Emma: “‘Sanasum Mawana’ is about life, love and the essence of a woman. This song is for the special woman in your life, whether it be your mother, sister, friend, daughter or partner. I personally dedicate this song to my mother. I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it weren’t for her.”
On Friday, 30th January, ‘Sanasum Mawana’ went live on YouTube and all streaming platforms, and just before it went live, she went on to say, they had a wonderful and intimate launch event at her father’s institute/ restaurant, the ‘Don Sherman Institute’ in Rajagiriya.
It was an evening of celebration, good food and great vibes and the event was also an introduction to Emma Shanaya the person and artiste.
Emma also mentioned that she is Sri Lanka for an extended period – a “work holiday”.
“I would like to expand my creativity in Sri Lanka and see the opportunities the island has in store for me. I look forward to singing, modelling, and acting opportunities, and to work with some wonderful people.
“Thank you to everyone that is by my side, supporting me on this new and exciting journey. I can’t wait to bring you more and continue to bloom like a flower.”
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