Features

My beginnings at Pallansena and how my parents and the village influenced my life

Published

3 years ago

2023/06/25

Thilina Walpola

Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Church, Pallansena

The Merril. J Fernando autobiography

Excerpted from The Story of the Ceylon Teamaker

Ninety-three years ago – in 1930 – I was born to a middle class family in the village of Pallansena, as the youngest of the six children of Harry and Lucy Fernando. My sister, Agnes, was the eldest and then came brothers Lennie and Pius, followed by sisters Doreen and Rita. My family roots can be traced back to this village where, from the time of my great-grandparents, ours had been a leading family.

Pallansena is situated about 15 kilometres north of the Colombo International Airport. Many decades ago, long before the airport was even thought of, it was a small village of about 100 closely-knit families. As common to such villages then, most of the families were connected to each other, either through blood or marriage. Irrespective of such connections, all those who lived in the village comprised one large family, held together by religious and cultural commonalities, shared responsibilities, and concern for one another.

Pallansena is no longer a village though, having gradually been overwhelmed by the urbanization and commercialization that is changing the charming landscape of this country, all over. That once-serene rural community is now a crowded suburb of the more densely-populated Kochchikade. The land on either side of the road that I, as a child, used to walk along on my way to the Pallansena village school, was lined with coconut plantations. Today, only a few scattered patches of coconut remain.

Much of the old plantation land is now built over, with modern residences, shops, hotels, and guest houses. In the village of Pallansena itself, most of the graceful old houses with wide verandahs and central courtyards, set deep in large, tree-laden gardens, have disappeared. Instead, unlovely facades of brick, glass, and concrete with barred windows line the roads on both sides.

Many of the houses then, large and small, had intricate wooden trellis frontages, which gave privacy but did not hinder ventilation. These have now been replaced by featureless iron and masonry grills. The very few old houses that remain still evoke memories of a vanished appeal. However, unlike in my youth, they too are now surrounded by high parapet walls and, therefore, rarely seen.

The Maha Oya and the Hamilton Canal which flows into it, in my youth clearly visible through the trees, and the houses which lined the gravel road running past the Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Church, have been obscured by row upon row of buildings. The once-pristine surface of the water and the clean, sandy banks, lined with rushes and other water plants, are today littered with imperishable plastic debris.

Instead of the weathered, light wooden canoes and rafts which used to be drawn up on the banks, far apart from each other, hundreds of garishly-coloured fibre-glass motor boats are anchored, shoulder to shoulder and bow to stern, at the edge of the water. The muted splash of wooden oars has been replaced by the clatter of high-powered outboard motors, rudely cleaving the surface. The broad-beamed padda boats with sloping cadjan canopies, steered by weather-beaten boatmen wielding long wooden poles, transporting both cargo and people, were another common feature along the canal in my early youth. They too disappeared many decades ago.

In my youth the community co-existed in gentle harmony with its surroundings. But, today, the unforgiving influence of commercial prosperity has been imposed on a once-tranquil society. Signs of affluence are visible and numerous, but they have come at a heavy price, which has been paid by a vulnerable environment.

Formative influences

Pallansena, like most villages on the western coast then, especially north of Colombo, was almost entirely Catholic, the result of the Portuguese influence, which first made its presence felt in Ceylon at the beginning of the 16th century. Religion was both a powerful unifying and guiding force and all families were raised on the strict spiritual principles of the faith. The Parish Priest was a man of great authority in the community, a sort of a benevolent dictator, a feature common to all such societies.

The village church used to be the centre of both religious and social activity. As a youth I was an altar boy in the church, then considered a proud distinction. Despite the many developments that have changed the face of Pallansena over the years, the church continues to be a powerful influence in the community. In a society which has evolved almost beyond recognition, that one feature has remained a constant in the nine decades since my birth.

My parents, especially my mother, raised me strictly according to sound, time-tested values, centred around the family and our faith. She was very religious and civic-minded and from my childhood, instilled in me the need to help our less-affluent neighbours. She visited other families regularly and, despite my vocal protests, quite often shared with the children of these families the prized goodies that I received, such as cakes, chocolates, and sweets.

In that era, in communities such as Pallansena, whilst there was no significant poverty, there were still a few underprivileged families. To my mother, helping such people was a serious moral obligation. She was a woman of great generosity and humility and was truly loved by the people of the village. She is still spoken of with much affection and gratitude by the older folk of the village, especially those who benefited from her compassion.

Neighbours reciprocated my mother’s many acts of kindness by frequently bringing her their home-grown fruits, vegetables, and traditional home-made sweets. As she sat in her verandah, always with rosary in hand, passing neighbours would stop and talk to her. They would also offer to buy her groceries and run other little errands for her. Sharing and caring were endearing features of our village, undoubtedly mirrored across many similar communities then, unlike in the highly-urbanized and commercialized age we live in now.

The principles that I still live by were articulated for me, very early, by role model example by my parents, especially my mother. They were conditioned largely by the teachings of my religion and the decent ethics of life, which are common to all great religions and principled societies. Since moving out of that somewhat-cloistered community and into the larger world of industry and international commerce eventually, I have been exposed constantly to different learnings and varied influences. However, the strength of that early indoctrination is such that I have remained true to those principles of conduct and interaction. On reflection, I feel comfortable with myself today because my basic values have not changed.

In the environment I was brought up, people took time and effort to care for each other. The concern that people of the village had for each other was clearly demonstrated, in times of both grief and joy. For example, when there was a funeral in the village, neighbours would send the mourning family meals for three days. Similarly, when there was a wedding, neighbours would send dinner to the wedding house on the pre-nuptial night. These traditions were of great practical benefit, intended to reduce pressure on the family concerned, enabling them to concentrate on the event.

For generations my ancestors had worshipped at the Pallansena, Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Church. My maternal great-grandparents, Petrus Perera and Anna Marie Perera, passing on in 1881 and 1901 respectively, are interred within the southern wing of the church, their final resting places marked by two stone tablets set into the church floor. Despite the many feet of worshippers which have trod on them for over a century, the dedications etched into the slabs are still very clear. Apparently, this unusual distinction had been extended to these two ancestors of mine, on account of their generosity to the church.

The spacious grounds on which the church now stands had been gifted by these two, whilst they had also contributed generously towards the construction of the church itself. The incumbent priest’s residence, a beautiful, heavily-timbered, two-storeyed, Dutch-styled house, still elegant despite some indelicate, subsequently introduced modern flourishes, had also been built by them.

They had both been well-reputed Ayurveda physicians, especially known for the treatment of cataract and other eye diseases. My grandmother and grand-aunts continued this healing tradition. I recall that there would be many patients consulting them every day, with the numbers increasing on weekends.

They also made a very special herbal oil which, apparently, was guaranteed to keep hair black, well into old age.

My brothers and sisters used that oil and retained black heads of hair, well into their seventies. I used it in my teens. It had a very strong, highly-aromatic scent, but in my view, not unpleasant. However, since my schoolmates objected to the smell, I stopped using it very early. This wonder oil was distilled from a mixture of rare herbs and ghee, all the ingredients being boiled together in copper cauldrons, over wood fires, for three weeks.

Sadly, none of our younger family members learned the formula for this healing oil. I still have a thick head of hair, but it has been silver for a long time. Perhaps, instead of yielding to my schoolmates, I should have continued to use the oil!

The medicines for the treatment of eye diseases were distilled from a variety of herbs, which were crushed and mixed with other ingredients, including mothers’ breast milk. Often, in my youth, I was frequently given the embarrassing assignment of approaching breast feeding mothers in the village and asking for spoonsful of milk. It was always readily given, though.

My grandmother was a heavily-built lady who spent most of her time in a comfortable chair, with her walking stick beside her. As a playful little boy, I used to tease her by hiding it frequently and my aunts had to retrieve it repeatedly, scolding me all the time. In her annoyance at my harassment she used to threaten me. It was then fun for me, but I realized later how irritating I would have been to her.

My two aunts were very religious, always praying to God for the welfare of the family. I would ask them if they were praying for me, too. The answer was always a very firm NO, because I used to annoy my grandmother all the time. No one knew my grandmother’s exact age, but she lived a comfortable life for over 100 years.

My parents

I truly miss the village life of my early youth, the transparently genuine values of simple people — kindness, cordiality, love, and concern for one another and especially the needy were the virtues that held such societies together. Those values are unknown in big cities today. I miss the fresh air, the clean rivers and canals, sea bathing, and the furtive swimming outings with friends of my age in the Maha Oya, which flowed behind my home. My pet dog, Beauty, a Golden Retriever, would also jump into the water with us and stay at my side as long as I was in the water. Such faithfulness is still seen amongst animals but rarely with people.

My mother was very protective of me and terrified of my swimming. She did not allow me to swim either in the river or the sea. Invariably, even on our secret swimming escapades, she would appear on the bank within minutes of us entering the water and scold my friends for having persuaded me to get in, although it was actually on my invitation that we were in the water. My friends were always in awe of my mother. Despite her naturally kindly nature, when angry she could be formidable.

On weekends I used to get together with a few of the village boys and play cricket, football and ‘elle’ on the road. The latter game, a simplified version of American baseball, would attract others from the village and soon we would have as many as 20 people competing. It was great fun, with the winners eventually treating the losers with king coconut plucked from a nearby tree.

Those were wonderful times in a simple village society, where we all treated each other in a spirit of equal friendliness and sharing. Many of my friends were from poor homes in the village, but such differences did not matter. Very few of my village friends are alive today.

My mother was my role model in my early years and became a defining influence in my development as an adult as well. She always represented an uncompromising moral power. Her devotion to the family was the driving force and purpose of her life. As a typical old-fashioned housewife, she did most of the cooking, producing outstanding food of our preference.

She had a very efficient woman, Isabel, to assist her in both housework and in the kitchen, but she insisted on doing much of the cooking herself. To this day, I try to prevail on my cooks to use the ingredients she relied on. She roasted and prepared all the spices and other ingredients at home. The tempting flavours and the heady fragrance of spices, which Ceylon is famous for, were ever present in our home.

Isabel was a middle-aged lady who had been working in my parents’ home for many years and was very much part of the family. In ensuring that the children of the family, especially I, conducted ourselves well, she exerted almost as much authority as my mother did. In our household there was no visible master-servant distinction. That was another lesson I learnt at a very early age from my mother: irrespective of station in life, mutual respect was a condition to be observed in all exchanges, transactions, and relationships.

When she was about 80 years of age, my mother had a serious fall and fractured her hip. I was holidaying in Nuwara Eliya at that time and rushed back on hearing the news. She was admitted to hospital in severe pain and I contacted my friend, Dr. Rienzie Pieris, Senior Orthopaedic Surgeon, who operated on her immediately. Three weeks after the surgery she was released from hospital and with some difficulty I persuaded her to stay in my home in Colombo, for her convalescence before returning to the village.

My mother occupied the guest room in my house and was provided full-time professional nursing care, with my domestic staff also dancing attendance on her. I was delighted that she was now in my home. However, after a few days, my mother pleaded to be sent back to her Pallansena home. Despite the special attention and comforts I provided, she was unhappy away from her familiar environment and her friends. I understood her need and reluctantly took her back to the village, though she was deeply apologetic for disappointing me by her refusal to stay with me.

She refused to undergo physiotherapy after she returned to the village. No amount of persuasion regarding the importance of post surgical therapy could change her mind. As a result, despite the corrective surgery, she was unable to walk unaided and for the rest of her life was compelled to use a wheelchair. However, my widowed sister Doreen took great care of her.

I used to visit regularly, taking with me things which she enjoyed. Despite her condition, she continued to share these with others. Even the tea that I provided her from my company was parceled and shared with neighbours. Since she was now unable to do any housework, she used to spend most of her time in a special chair placed in the verandah, quite often with the holy rosary and reciting her prayers. Whenever I visited her, the first words to me would be, “Son, I am praying for you all the time; God will always bless you.”

In her last year, though she would greet me affectionately whenever I visited, my mother failed to recognize me, which distressed me deeply. She acknowledged only Doreen, her constant companion and carer. I realized then that her end was near and prayed to God for his blessings. On April 6, 1988, at the age of 98-years, 17 years after my father’s death, she passed into the arms of Jesus Christ. I had lost my great treasure.

During her funeral, which was held at the Pallansena church, there was a torrential downpour lasting about 15 minutes. It was so unexpected and so intense that it seemed to me to be symbolic of the occasion.

Old family home in Pitipana, now the Saddhasarana Home for the Aged.

My love and admiration for her have been constant. She taught me a great lesson in life – to love my neighbour as myself and to share with those in need. She instilled in me, at a very early age, the concept that moral values cannot be compromised, irrespective of circumstances or the nature of temptation. Not until I started working and earning did I realize the value of her personal ethic, which was reflected in her everyday life. I absorbed from her the principle that a man had a responsibility to his community. And, later, as I shared with the less fortunate, my earnings increased, my business prospered, and God’s blessings flowed in abundance.

My father, Harry, was a simple, humble, and extremely hardworking man. He worked a long day, leaving home at early dawn and returning very late in the evening. His last business was the manufacture and supply of building materials, red bricks and tiles especially, for construction companies and other customers, mainly in Negombo, which was about 10 kilometres away.

The material he produced was collected and delivered by both lorries and bullock carts. Often there were delays in the settlement of his dues and collection would require many visits to customers. He would make all such journeys either on foot or by bullock cart.

He was a man of reasonable means. I realized that because people regularly borrowed money from him. Collection of such debts was often a problem, with debtors constantly trying to evade him. Those who were spotted by him on his collection trips would then feel the rough edge of his tongue. My father was a stern man who never forgot the due dates of settlement and insisted on the timely discharge of obligations and responsibilities. It occurred to me then itself that money-lending was not a pleasant business.

My father sent us all to good schools and, within his means, provided for us well. That was quite sufficient to give us decent starts in life and all his six children did well for themselves. If he were alive today, he would be a very proud and happy man. Whilst my siblings were generally obedient, I think I was the only trouble-maker, especially in my early years. Though my somewhat erratic educational progress would have disappointed him, he ungrudgingly paid all my school and boarding fees.

In his final years he lived at home with my mother and my widowed sister Doreen and I were able to care for them in every way. As he grew older and dependent on others for his daily needs, he became a little difficult and would complain about Doreen, who was under great stress but managing very well under the circumstances. I used to console Doreen with the assurance that since she was looking after our parents, when the time came I would look after her as well.

My father passed away on February 11, 1971 at the age of 84 years. He lived a good, responsible life. I thank God that I was able to show him my love and gratitude for all he did for the family. I deeply miss my parents and the others of my family who have passed on. I believe that our family will reunite at the second coming of Jesus Christ.

In December every year I visit my village for an almsgiving ceremony, in memory of my parents and family members who have passed away. I give away a couple of hundred packs of dry rations, each sufficient to last a family during Christmas and New Year. A few remaining friends and their siblings show up and say, “Sir, can you remember, my brother used to play cricket and ‘elle’ with you?” I do recall them and feel blessed that I am now in a position to help them in various ways. The Parish Priest at Pallansena has been very useful in identifying such people in need and I have been able to channel my assistance through him.

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Features

The 22nd Amendment, constitutional recovery and illiberal slippage

Published

13 hours ago

2026/09/28

Thilina Walpola

by Dinesha Samararatne
Professor, Dept. of Public & International Law, Faculty of Law of the University of Colombo
and was an independent member of Sri Lanka’s Constitutional Council (Jan. 2023 to Jan. 2026).

Sri Lanka’s political transition in 2024 was widely regarded as restoration of democracy, a reversal of authoritarian rule and an opportunity for constitutional recovery. The 22nd Amendment is the first constitutional amendment since this turning point. It 1) extends the age of retirement of the judges of the superior courts by two years, 2) expands the number of judges in the Court of Appeal by 4, and 3) introduces a cap of 6 years on the term of a Chief Justice. The expansion of the Court of Appeal is meant to facilitate the Court sitting outside of Colombo.

This Amendment is a stress-test on Sri Lanka’s democratic restoration as well as constitutional recovery. This Bill was published in the Gazette along with a proposed amendment to the Judicature Act of 1978, which sought to extend the age of retirement for the lower judiciary and to increase the number of judges of the High Court by 10. The enactment of the Amendment coincides with the completion of two years of this Government. Here, I offer a brief assessment of some of the key policy and constitutional issues involved.

Democratic Transition and Constitutional Recovery

There were many signs of a new lease of political life in Sri Lanka following the presidential election in 2024. Many politicians (of a certain kind) who sensed the change chose to not even contest the parliamentary elections. An Inspector General of Police (whose appointment itself was, at the time, under challenge) was impeached, and the political discourse seems to shift towards more democracy, transparency and accountability. The vigilance of the engaged citizen (as opposed to the mere voter) was evident in the pushback which led to the resignation of a Speaker as well as a Minister.

Some may say that these changes were too little and too late. After all, the Online Safety Act and the Prevention of Terrorism Act remain on our law books and we are still governed by an Executive President. Some others may argue that these are signs of a significant paradigm shift that is underway. Since 2025, the number of investigations, prosecutions and convictions related to bribery and corruption has been unprecedented, the President’s Fund is being accessed by people on the basis of financial need and there seems to be a change in the political culture. Whether these changes may be consolidated, it is too early to tell.

Policy and the 22nd Amendment

The 22nd Amendment to our Constitution suggests that political tactics familiar to the old order of things (to the extent that that order is in our past), are re-emerging. A proposal for a constitutional amendment which is piece-meal (with no convincing explanation for its selectivity), is published in the gazette without public consultation – not even consultations with relevant professional bodies – and is enacted without bi-partisan consensus. A recent example of a similar approach is the expansion of the number of judges in the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal by way of amendments at the Committee Stage of the 20th Amendment in 2020, with no transparency or consultation and with political justification post-Amendment. Many questions arise and remain unanswered. Among the many issues that plague our courts, on what basis were these issues prioritised for reform? As in the past, the process has been opaque and rushed. In turn this has led to polarised debates which carry the risk of compromising the confidence in the Government.

Laws delays, one of the stated concerns that the 22nd Amendment seeks to address, is at crisis levels in Sri Lanka. It is certainly a concern for citizens but it is a concern along with the extremely weak mechanism for legal aid, the lack of accessibility of court procedures and the difficulties we face for instance at a police station. We have a right to know why amidst all these serious and ubiquitous issues, the government prioritised constitutional reform in this selective manner. Constitutional reform must demonstrate a compelling link between the aspirations of the people for democracy, for human dignity and the flourishing of life. If the plight or aspirations of people are weaponised by political forces or elected representatives, we carry the burden of calling that out.

My own view is that a review of the age of retirement of judges is long overdue, but whether and how it ought to apply to sitting judges, carries the real or perceived risk of undermining the independence of the judiciary. Moreover, that is certainly not the only reform that is long overdue. The minimum criteria for the appointment of a judge to our superior courts is governed by convention (sometimes in the breach), not by law. In fact, the law does not lay down any criteria for appointment to our superior courts despite the Court’s assertion in its Determination on the 22nd Amendment bill that judges are appointed on merit, ‘competence and ability to work hard’ (p 87). While procedures and mechanisms are in place for disciplinary measures for the judiciary of lower courts, there is no such mechanism for the superior courts. The rules of the Constitutional Council (a matter that has been disputed in litigation) do not provide guidance on the process to be adopted for approval /disapproval of nominations made by the President to these courts. There is no judicial review of legislation in Sri Lanka. In fact, we are governed under a constitution that provides for the enactment of constitutional amendments or law reform that are inconsistent with the Constitution (with approval at a referendum). These are some aspects that require review and discussion in relation to the further improvement of the judicial branch of the state in Sri Lanka. Many of us consider these reforms not just important but also urgent.

Special Determinations and their Scope

Generally, after a Bill is placed in the Order Paper of Parliament, any citizen may challenge it before the Supreme Court and the Court communicates its determination to the President and to the Speaker within three weeks (Article 121). When a Bill proposes to amend the Constitution, it requires approval by 2/3 absolute majority in Parliament. Therefore, if a Bill is challenged, the Court has to determine whether it also requires approval by the people at a referendum. The approval of the people is required if the Court determines that the Bill or any of its clauses is inconsistent with the entrenched clauses of our Constitution listed in Article 83. There are 10 entrenched clauses in our Constitution including the clause on Buddhism and freedom from torture. These clauses may only be amended with 2/3 in Parliament and approval by the People.

The presentation of the Bill and proceedings before Court is a reminder, yet again, of the sheer inadequacy of the manner in which the Constitution is amended or how we engage in law reform. Within a matter of three weeks, the Supreme Court is required to exercise its ‘pre-enactment’ judicial review. In this case, 65 petitioners rushed to Court to challenge the 22A bill and eight others the amendment to the Judicature Act. The hearings are conducted under severe time-pressure, including, in this instance, without a right of reply for the petitioners to the submissions by the Attorney-General. In the proceedings related to pre-enactment review, I cannot help but notice the irony of the process. At least in theory, the Attorney-General is the guardian of the Constitution and, therefore, is required to act in trust, for the benefit of the People. In these hearings, however, the Attorney-General, by and large, presents and defends the policies of the government. In theory, the government represents the people. The petitioners, too, bring to Court the concerns of the people (to the extent that they are presented by the petitioners) through counsel who often appear pro-bono for them. One possible way out of this dilemma is to consider a possibility for the Attorney-General to participate in these proceedings on the basis of the Constitution and for the government to retain its own counsel to make submissions defending its policies.

Two Constitutional Issues

The Court was faced with two constitutional questions in hearing these petitions. First, whether the petitions required the full court to hear and determine the matter since the Bill involved the retirement age of the sitting judges as well. Second, the Court had to determine whether the proposed amendment had a negative impact on judicial independence, whether judicial independence was an aspect of the entrenched clauses of our Constitution and if both those questions were answered in the affirmative, whether the Bill required approval at a referendum. Previously, the Court has determined that in reviewing a Bill, Court will not inquire into the desirability of the proposed reform but limit itself to determining whether any clauses of a Bill are inconsistent with the entrenched clauses of Constitution and would therefore require approval by the people at a referendum.

Constituting the Bench

In the Supreme Court, benches ordinarily comprise three judges, and the Chief Justice is vested with discretion to constitute larger benches of five or more judges (Article 132). In ‘the opinion of the Chief Justice’ the question involved must be one of ‘general and public importance’. The decision to constitute a larger bench may be the Chief Justice’s decision, or on the request of at least two of the judges hearing the matter or at the request of a petitioner. In the Dissolution case (2018) the Chief Justice himself constituted a Bench of seven judges.

The Chief Justice had constituted a Bench of five judges to hear this matter, of different years of seniority in the Court. Court rejected the request for a full bench on the basis that the Bench did not have a conflict of interest and that a five-judge Bench was the appropriate use of the resources of the Court, particularly in light of the fact that the Court was due to hear petitions regarding another bill at the same time. For the first time, the Court comments on the administrative functions of the Chief Justice, the difficulties in case management under resource constraints and the internal procedures of a bench when dealing with a Special Determination. Ironically, this reminds us that for several months, the vacancies in the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal have remained while the President and the Government claim that they are committed to addressing laws delays.

Even if the Court had taken the view that there was a conflict of interest, as a matter of necessity, the Court had to make a determination on this Bill. The Court, in its wisdom, determined that a five-judge bench was constitutionally adequate. Yet, it could be argued, that in this context, a full bench or a fuller bench, would have satisfied all concerned that the Court had taken the maximum measures it could, to avoid any perceptions of a conflict of interest. That interest of the Court and of our constitutional system, arguably is constitutionally more important than ensuring efficiency in case-management.

The Bill and Independence of the Judiciary

The independence of the judiciary includes the following dimensions: personal and institutional; negative and positive; the actual and the perceived; and procedural and substantive. These dimensions require a principled assessment as well as a situated or contextual assessment.

‘Independence of the Judiciary’ is explicitly mentioned only twice in our Constitution: in the preamble, as part of our ‘intangible heritage’ which ‘guarantees’ our dignity and well-being and as the sub-heading for chapter XV of the Constitution. The independence of the judiciary, as part of our intangible heritage, has to be understood as a foundational constitutional concept and as a constitutional principle. In its operationalisation, the concept and the principle have to be interpreted and applied in context. This is where the contestations on the 22nd Amendment come alive. None of the entrenched clauses directly refers to the independence of the judiciary. However, in its recent jurisprudence, the Court has held that the independence of the judiciary has to be read into Article 3 of our Constitution, which is entrenched. Article 3 states that ‘sovereignty is in the People and is inalienable’ and further that our sovereignty includes ‘powers of government, fundamental rights and the franchise.’ In this Determination, Court endorses this interpretation.

The Court rightly notes that matters of policy are not reviewable by court except if such policies are vague or manifestly unreasonable. The Court determines that petitioners were wrong to argue that the extension of the age of retirement of the judiciary was an encroachment on the independence of the judiciary. Notably, the Court does not explain the independence of the judiciary as a constitutional concept except to note that the Constitution ‘guarantees that Judges will be able to make decisions free of influence and based only on relevant facts and law.’ (p 74). The Court further notes that while a reduction of the term or a reduction in the salaries of judges would undermine judicial independence, the increase of salaries of judges could hardly be considered as impacting judicial independence.

The Court considered several comparative examples in considering whether or not the extension of the age of retirement has been determined to have undermined the independence of the judiciary elsewhere. However, in each of those examples the broader constitutional context has a material bearing on the conclusions reached. In India, the selection of judges for appointment is through the Collegium System which comprises the judiciary. In the UK, the age of retirement was raised after extensive consultation between July – October 2020. As reported by the UK government, 1004 responses were received from the judiciary, the legal profession and other stakeholders. It is thereafter that the decision was implemented. It is relevant to note here that despite the lack of consultation, the lower judiciary and the Bar went on record opposing this Amendment.

In its wisdom, the Court agreed with the submissions made by the Attorney-General that since the extension of the age of retirement applied to all the judges, it was non-discriminatory and non-discretionary and therefore was ‘not at the whim and fancy of the Executive.’ (p 83) The Court reproduces a Note to the Cabinet (3 July 2026) which sets out the reasons for the Government’s policy decision. Notably, in a sector where no constitutional reforms have been made, except to require approval for appointments by the Constitutional Council, the Note provides no justification for selectively focusing on the age of retirement. The excerpts of the Note reproduced in the Determination make no reference to the other two reforms proposed.

The Social Justice Questions and Constitutionalism

For us, the constitutional questions have to be answered within the broader political context. From the citizen’s perspective, even the increase of the salaries of judges, if implemented under questionable, selective or opaque circumstances, can give rise to questions, concerns and a weakening of public confidence. Facts take colour from their context. This reminds me of another question on which there has been some debate in Sri Lanka, which is, whether Sri Lanka should establish a separate Constitutional Court which will adjudicate on constitutional matters thereby permitting a broader jurisdiction and mandate.

Some others have even described law as a colonial tool that has oppressed most in society. Some have argued that social justice requires that we marginalise or even dispense with commitments to liberal values such as rules of procedure and values of democracy such as diversity of opinion. That Sri Lankans have experienced exploitation, that democracy has been abused for state capture, through its Constitution and law, is true. As much as the law has been a tool for exploitation and abuse, it has also been a tool for liberation and social justice. Victims of human rights violations and abuse of law, often the vulnerable in our society, often have no recourse but the law. They seek it, even if to fail. Justice, too, is heavily contested and should remain so. Its meaning cannot be the monopoly of one social class, a political party or a ruling elite. At the same time, there ought to be commitments we can make as a polity to values, procedures and substantive outcomes that bring liberal commitments to rights and procedure with those of social justice. Furthermore, we must avoid the trap of romanticising ‘the people.’ We, the people, have actively sought and cultivated political patronage and participated in practices that undermine our common good, such as daily acts of violence, racism, patriarchy, corruption, abuse whether at home, at work or in the public domain.

Returning to the question of law, constitutions and justice, we should be vary of a ‘them vs us’ approach, particularly when they are propagated by those with political, cultural or economic power. The Constitution allows the Cabinet to place a bill before the People for their approval through a referendum (Article 120). Perhaps, taking this path, even if it carries a significant financial cost, may have allowed the government to put to rest the opposition to the 22nd Amendment. It is ironic that under a Constitution that declares the people to be sovereign, the only time a bill has been put to the people, was to postpone the exercise of their franchise (4th Amendment to the Constitution 1982).

Illiberal Slippage and/or Democratic Backsliding?

Serious issues of constitutional politics of this nature require that a strong government (which is what we have, with a charismatic leader and 2/3 in Parliament) is matched by a strong Opposition. What we have, instead, for the most part, are some politicians and political parties that have no credibility on matters related to the judiciary, mobilising against the government and claiming to defend the independence of the judiciary. While that tragi-comedy writes itself, we the citizens ought to be concerned about the lack of healthy political competition, an essential feature of a sustainable democracy and the disregard by the government of the reasonable voices within the Opposition.

Illiberal slippage or democratic backsliding has been identified as a risk for regimes that have led a transition to democracy. In a system headed by an Executive President, such a risk is all too real, as we know all too well. Ad hoc, piece-meal constitutional amendments of this nature place us on that path. In this political moment, many truths compete with each other. It is true that Sri Lanka made a distinct transition to democracy. It was made in stages starting from 2022. No single political party or social movement can claim that transition as their own. We cannot deny the organic dynamics of that transition. It is true that this transition has a class dimension to it. For certain, the political elite of the past enjoy diminished political capital and mileage, at least for now. The professional elite, depending on one’s perspective, too, arguably enjoy diminished traction. The ground beneath us is shifting. It is also true that within the limited electoral cycle, limited political capital, and in a context where former authoritarian forces remain electorally relevant, institutional reform is difficult. Situated in this broader context, there is cause for concern about the 22nd Amendment. It has weakened our transition to democracy and placed our constitutional recovery at risk.

(I write as an engaged citizen who studies constitutional law. The views expressed here are my own.)

Features

Why do students ‘fear’ algebra?

Published

13 hours ago

2026/09/28

Thilina Walpola

by R N A de Silva
rnades@gmail.com

“I was good with numbers and liked mathematics, but it changed when letters started to replace numbers”- such sentiments are common expressions that we hear. Perhaps the challenges that the students face in mathematics as a school subject are mainly due to the fear of algebra. For many students the transition into secondary education brings this profound sense of academic dread – algebra. This anxiety is more a structural byproduct of human minds adapt to radical shifts in thinking than a personal failure of the individual student. Many students who have been dealing only with numbers suddenly feel that they are in unfamiliar territory as they have to combine numbers with letters, symbols and rules. Dismantling this fear has to be done by the educators through reshaping how it is introduced and contextualised so that it becomes an accessible gateway of logical reasoning.

Let us look at the reasons for the development of the fear of algebra.

The Challenge of the ‘unknown’

In the first few years of formal schooling, mathematics becomes a tangible experience. They can count with their fingers or tools like counters and beads. They can measure lengths of tables or rooms or divide boxes or fruits into fractions. The operations are predictable and visible. There is stability in numbers as three is always a three. Algebra disrupts this stability. Letters such as x and y are introduced which do not possess fixed values. Suddenly, they are asked to manipulate symbols which they cannot physically see. This demand for abstract thinking can leave students bewildered. When a student enters this stage prematurely or without adequate background, the brain struggles to attach meaning to symbols.

Foundational gaps

As mathematics is uniquely sequential and cumulative, a weak grasp of basic skills may hinder progress in algebra. If a student leaves primary school with a shaky understanding of mathematical operations, it will be a disruption to their ability to follow algebraic steps. Solving an algebraic equation such as 3x – 2 = 10 consists of two levels of cognitive processing. Determining the properties applicable to isolate the variable requires higher order strategic thinking while executing the basic arithmetic operations requires lower order execution. If difficulties arise with lower order execution, they lose track of the broader algebraic strategy. Building confidence starts with consistent practice of foundational skills.

Fear of making mistakes

In general, a problem in algebra may involve a multi-step process unlike in a standard arithmetic problem. This increases the chances of making mistakes thus resulting in an incorrect final answer although the process is correct. Unfortunately, the traditional grading systems often rely heavily on the final result than the logical process. This can lead to an intense fear of failure. Subsequently, this threat of failure may turn into a highly stressful experience.

Now, let us consider strategies to eliminate or minimise the growth of the fear of algebra.

Using concrete examples to clarify abstract ideas

It is essential for teachers to use concrete examples to bridge the gap between simple mathematics and symbolic reasoning, rather than forcing students to jump to abstractness unassisted. A few examples are given below.

Solving an equation such as 3x + 10 = 100 can be introduced in the form of a story. ‘I went to a shop and gave the shopkeeper Rs 100 asking for three candies. He gave me three candies and also Rs 10 as balance. What is the price that I have paid for a candy?’ The gradual introduction of a variable will be made easier with such narratives.

Figure 1

Equations can also be framed as games of balancing on a scale to understand what you do to one side of the scale need to be done on the other side too to maintain balance. (See figure 1)

Factorisation is an area that many students struggle with. The need for a quadratic expression to be converted to a product can be shown through tiles that need to be fully covered in a rectangular area. Factors of X^2 + 5x + 6 can be manipulated with tiles as shown below to obtain the answer as (x + 3)(x + 2). (See figure 2)

Figure 2

With such demonstration, symbols lose their mystical quality.

Embrace mistakes as stepping stones

Errors should be treated as valuable diagnostic data by the teachers where the students are able to dissect where a problem went wrong. Creating a supportive learning environment that normalises mistakes as learning opportunities helps reduce anxiety and encourages persistence.

Assessment should also be done to reward logical reasoning and correct algebraic procedures without giving too much weight to minor arithmetical errors. Formative assessments need to be conducted regularly as algebra is introduced, before the students become overwhelmed by the complexities of cumulative assessments.

Connect with real life applications

Many students fail to see how algebra connects to everyday life, making it harder for them to stay motivated. Wherever possible, teachers can demonstrate practical uses of algebra such as tracking expenses to find the balance remaining after expenditure, estimating travel time or fuel consumption, use of recipes dealing with proportion, tiling the floor of a room and finding measurements for a scaled model of a building. Showing how algebra helps in designing games or solving real-world problems enhances interest and comprehension.

Algebra may feel intimidating at first, but it is an opportunity for students to sharpen their reasoning, resilience and problem-solving skills. When the anxiety is eliminated, algebra reveals itself as an extremely useful and elegant toolkit for problem solving. Using appropriate teaching methods algebra can be transformed from an intimidating barrier into a powerful bridge to intellectual exercise. “An ounce of algebra is worth a ton of verbal argument.” said John Haldane.

(The writer is a senior mathematics examiner of the International Baccalaureate Organisation)

Features

Two Badulla forests covering nearly 200 hectares gazetted as reserves

Published

13 hours ago

2026/09/28

Thilina Walpola

Badulla District

By Ifham Nizam

Two forest areas in the Badulla District — Mahiyanganaya Moopalana, covering 29.79 hectares, and Mahiyanganaya Heerussagala, covering 168.09 hectares — have been officially gazetted as forest reserves, bringing a combined 197.88 hectares of ecologically important land under formal protection.

The two forests, located in the Riddimaliyadda Divisional Secretariat Division within the Mahiyanganaya forest range, are dry-monsoon forests that provide habitats for a variety of native plant and animal species.

The declarations form part of the Government’s Vanaspathi forest conservation programme, under which 20 forests, covering a total of 9,538.68 hectares, across six districts, were granted protected status. The latest additions have taken the forest area, protected under the programme, to nearly 65,000 hectares, according to reports.

Environment Minister Dr. Dammika Patabendi and Deputy Minister Anton Jayakody were associated with the conservation programme.

Commenting on the significance of the declarations, Dr. Patabendi said the reserves are intended to deliver long-term environmental, ecological and social benefits.

“Through the declaration of these reserves, we aim to protect Sri Lanka’s biodiversity, safeguard water sources and watershed areas, create opportunities for eco-tourism, and preserve areas of archaeological importance found within these forests,” the Minister said.

Moopalana Forest

The 29.79-hectare Moopalana Forest is a dry-monsoon forest containing a range of natural resources and providing habitat for native species.

The forest is also linked to the livelihoods of surrounding rural communities. Local people obtain forest-based products such as rattan, veniwel and kitul, making the area significant, not only for biodiversity conservation, but also for traditional livelihood activities.

Several small waterways that become active during the rainy season are also found within the forest.

Heerussagala Forest

The larger 168.09-hectare Heerussagala Forest is likewise a dry-monsoon forest with important ecological resources and habitats for native flora and fauna.

The forest also has a direct connection with the local water system, with Nagadeepa Wewa being fed by the forest area.

Adding to its significance is the nearby Nagadeepa Temple, an area associated with archaeological value.

The protection of the forest, therefore, encompasses ecological, water-resource and cultural considerations.

The Ministry of Environment states that its broader approach to environmental management is based on sustainable natural-resource management, with government agencies, communities and other stakeholders participating in conservation efforts.

The gazetting of Moopalana and Heerussagala consequently places nearly 200 hectares of Badulla’s dry-monsoon forest under formal protection, strengthening the legal framework for conserving their biodiversity, water resources and associated cultural values.

The two forests are among 20 forest areas officially declared reserves in the latest phase of the Vanaspathi programme, which covers forests in Badulla, Anuradhapura, Ampara, Kegalle, Nuwara Eliya and Vavuniya.

For the communities surrounding these forests, their protection also represents the preservation of natural resources that support local livelihoods and water systems — while ensuring that these forest ecosystems remain part of Sri Lanka’s natural heritage for future generations, says Environment Ministry Consultant Dr. Ravindra Kariyawasam.