Features

Be Still and Know*: Higher Studies at the Sussex University

Published

1 year ago

2024/09/22

Thilina Walpola

Institute of Development Studies, University of Sussex

by Jayantha Perera

As an IDS studentship holder at the University of Sussex (1975-77), I had several privileges – free photocopying and access to the IDS research library, a post box in the common room and generous discounts on IDS publications. Researchers recruited studentship holders as temporary research assistants and paid handsomely for their services. Once, I ‘punched’ village data collected by a graduate student into data cards before they were ‘fed’ into the university mainframe computer to get statistical results. A visiting professor from India hired me to do a library search for books, papers and pamphlets on the sugar industry in India. The assignment included a few trips to London libraries.

I had my lunch mostly at IDS, where food was subsidized. My favourite was the ploughman’s lunch – a large piece of crisp bread with cheese, chutney, and a small salad. Yoghurt and coffee completed the lunch. Several restaurants were on the campus, and the central cafeteria was known as the Refrectory. I went to the Refrectory twice weekly for a lunch bowl of rice, beef curry, and boiled vegetables. I liked braised ox liver with mashed potatoes served there once a week. The student Co-op sold food at their cost price. Students bought cheese, bread, milk, and canned food at the Co-op. Each hall of residence had a kitchenette for the residents of a six-room cluster. In a shared refrigerator, we kept our food, such as milk, sausages, chicken, and minced meat. Milk was considered a public good, and I often found my milk carton was empty. I never tried to catch the culprit.

Two lecturers taught us Marx’s interpretation of history, drivers of social change and modes of production. Prof. Tom Bottomore taught us phenomenology (science of phenomenon), the theory of knowledge, and critical theory. Tom was a great teacher and always had a story or two about leading thinkers such as Marx, Lenin and Gramsci. Tom wanted to hear stories about great thinkers from his students. He was an intense listener and took copious notes when a student presented a tutorial. His ability to summarize complex thoughts and arguments is legendary. I wrote my term papers on Verstehen (interpretative understanding) and participatory observation methodology. He liked the essays and categorized them in the upper five per cent of the marking system.

Tom always wore a thick woollen jacket with elbow patches. He was a heavy pipe smoker, and a thick layer of smoke hung in his room. When I met Tom in his office just before the Christmas vacation, he showed me a typewritten manuscript on Verstehen written by a graduate student. It had hundreds of edits and queries of Tom. He smiled and said, “Jayantha, although you see hundreds of corrections and questions, this book is great. I feel bad that I wrote so many comments on it. In the end, they helped me to understand the book.” Then he opened a table drawer to show me several of his handwritten draft papers. He said he would take two to four years to complete the final version of an article or a book chapter.

He looked at me and asked: “Do you plan to pursue an academic life, or do you want to do a lucrative job after the Master’s?” He puffed his pipe and watched my eyes. He reminded me of Brother Cassian, the Director of St Anthony’s College, who waited to hear my answer to whether I wanted to become a Catholic priest. I laughed, and Tom wanted to know why I laughed. I told him the story, and he, too, laughed. He jokingly told me, “Yes, that was another profession you could have chosen. Anyway, I will recommend to the Dean of Arts that you should be allowed to do your DPhil without completing your Master’s.”

I thought about thaththa and wanted to tell him this news. I left Tom before my eyes welled up with tears. I walked in the meadows behind the University, thinking about thaththa and my discussion with him when I was 13. I told him I wanted to become a doctor. He did not approve my plan and advised me to do a doctorate in social sciences instead. I wrote two aerogrammes that night – one to amma and the other to Eusebius Uncle, to tell them the news and how grateful I was to them.

Ron Dore held his famous weekly seminar on development and change at IDS. His MA students attended the workshop on one condition – each participant will lead at least one seminar and present a paper on a topic agreed upon in the previous week. Ron suggested reading material and allowed students to borrow books from his personal library at IDS. I presented two papers – one on Sri Lanka’s settlement schemes and social change and the other on applying the centre-periphery theory to understand Sri Lanka’s post-independence economic growth. His style of marking an essay was to place it on a continuum – A, A-B, B, B-C, C, and C-D. He was a broad-minded teacher who encouraged students to read widely, critique dominant thinkers, and apply development theories to their countries.

Several Sri Lankan students were at the University, and they were friendly and supportive. We frequently met at lunches, teas, and dinners. A few of them organized a great party to celebrate my 25th birthday. They gave me a copy of Solzhenitsyn’s trilogy as a present. On the inner title page, there was a short note from them: “We wish you will live three times your current age.” (Now I am 73 years old!).

My best friend on the campus was Kethish, who read economics. His father was a well-known international banker. Kethish had spent most of his time in the US. We went for long walks and chatted and argued on many topics. He helped me in revising my term papers. He had a brilliant mind. Occasionally, I cooked Sri Lankan food for both of us, which he relished. He gave me an expensive leather jacket, saying he had two. He was a heavy smoker, and I, too, continued to smoke with him. By the end of the second term, he lost interest in studying economics and went to Sri Lanka to join a political party.

Newton and Tilak, two Sri Lankan scholars, were doing their DPhils at IDS when I joined it. They were at least 10 years my senior. They helped me in my studies and spent time with me drinking beer at the IDS bar. Newton was one of the greatest minds that I have come across in my life. He drank at least three pints of beer every night and smoked at least 20 cigarettes a day. Newton was a fascinating storyteller. He took about seven years to complete his DPhil thesis and, in the process, became a part of IDS. He was interested in knowing why I was not married. I told him one day I might get married.

I asked him his opinion on marriage. He told me, “Jayantha, you should marry a rich divorcee. She will know how to keep you happy and have money to give you a comfortable life.” Tilak was a shy man. He was hard-working and a popular student among the IDS staff. He blended demography with anthropology and wrote on changing patterns of livelihood resources in rural Sri Lanka for his DPhil.

Once, I participated in a sponsored walk on a 25-km trail organized by the university chaplain. We had lunch at a pub and afternoon tea at a rectory. The rector was a plumb, jolly good fellow in his 60s. His wife was worried about him “attacking” the cake served with tea to visitors. He was told not to touch the cake but ate a large piece in one gulp. He was sad when we left and invited us to revisit him so that he could eat cake again.

I walked with a young Irish undergraduate who chattered to me all day. She told me about her country, her family, and the difficulties she had gone through. I told her about my life, struggles, poverty, and mishaps. After listening to me, she cried and said she felt ashamed to be sad about her life. She promised me that she would look after me on the campus. I met her several times, and once, she cooked me an authentic Irish meal full of meat dishes.

I travelled extensively using my student railway travel card. Once I went to Scotland to meet my pen pal in Edinburgh. I vividly remember how happy I was to receive letters from her. Once a month, I wrote an aerogramme to her. When I joined the ARTI, I sent her a packet of tea by airmail. She often asked me to mail photos of beautiful places in Sri Lanka. Before I came to England in 1975, she wrote about her engagement to a navy officer. When I visited her in Edinburgh, she was a married woman. We had lunch at her place and then she took me to the Edinburgh Castle. We were happy to meet each other after many years of correspondence. She drove me to the railway station. Since then, I have not met or heard from her.

Although I got permission to move to DPhil directly, I decided to complete my MA before starting DPhil work. As I had funds only to complete an MA, it was too risky for me not to complete MA before moving to DPhil. During the third term of my first year, I wrote a short dissertation titled Changing Patterns of Land Tenure in Sri Lanka under Tom’s supervision, and Ron Dore examined it. At that time, Mahinda Silva, the Secretary of Agriculture and Land, was visiting IDS. I discussed with him the possibility of doing a DPhil. He said it was a good idea and he would support me.

He asked Ron whether I was a suitable candidate for a DPhil. Ron highly recommended me and agreed to be my supervisor. Based on my Master’s good results and Ron’s recommendation, IDS extended my studentship by eight months, enabling me to complete the preliminary DPhil work. I decided on the research topic – ‘Class Relations and Social Change in Rural Sri Lanka’, and Ron approved it.

Mahinda told me I should do fieldwork for two years in Sri Lanka before returning to Sussex to complete my DPhil thesis. He wanted me to become a development practitioner first, and the best way to become one was to engage in village-level research and development. Ron advised me regularly about my readings and how to develop a theoretical orientation to analyse data and information. I consider him as one of my best teachers. He was a friendly, optimistic, patient, and generous person.

Ron told me to meet him whenever I wanted, but with one condition — I should bring an essay for him to read. Whenever I entered his room, he got up and greeted me with a friendly smile. Ron offered me his armchair, sat on a chair with a straight back, and grabbed the essay I had brought. Then he sharpened a pencil, allowing its shavings to fall on his blue sweater. Having sharpened his pencil, Ron would wink at me and read the essay. Often, he edited the document and rewrote some sections. After reading and reviewing the piece, Ron would ask me a few questions about the contents of the write-up. Then he told me whether he liked it, whether it was cogent, and whether I could develop it further as a section of my thesis.

Once, he invited me to lunch. He asked me about my family and the political situation in Sri Lanka. I told him how hard it was for me to study after my father’s death. He told me that his father was a railway engine driver. Ron, too, had difficult times as a young boy. Then he said, “Look, now you are studying at IDS in Sussex, the best University in the world for development studies. In my case, I did not have money to do my postgraduate studies. As it was wartime, I joined a state spy service, learned Japanese, and served the King.”

In 1980, I won a two-year Canadian Development Research Council (IDRC) scholarship to complete my doctoral studies at IDS. I started thesis writing at IDS. Ron was always there to advise me on complex issues. He critically edited my draft chapters. Ron told me that I should write a chapter every month. He did not ask me to write a chapter outline because he thought I should allow the thesis to evolve without much planning. I summarised my field findings at the two villages and discussed them with Ron. He thought my thesis was a good case study to substantiate Weber’s idea of class, caste and status.

I tried to write a chapter every month, and Ron read it enthusiastically. He shared some of my draft chapters with his colleagues at IDS, who wanted to understand Sri Lanka’s rural politics and social change. Ron wrote quarterly reports to the IDRC and the ARTI, praising me for my excellent progress in thesis writing. Once, he told me that he was fortunate to have a student like me and invited me to take any number of books from his vast library when I leave Sussex.

Ron read my thesis as a full manuscript and gave a few comments. It was about 80,000 words. I hired a woman to type it. She charged me 150 pounds for the job. Her help in correcting some spelling and grammar mistakes saved me time. With Ron’s approval, I submitted three bound copies of the thesis to the Dean’s office at the end of October 1981.

The University fixed the viva voce for December 2, 1981, and two examiners were appointed. The external examiner was Professor John Harris, and the internal examiner was Prof Scarlett Epstein. Soon after confirming my availability for the viva voce, I left for West Germany to spend a few days with Georg (my advisor in Sri Lanka). It was a great vacation after trying times with the thesis. One day, I mistakenly overshot Georg’s house and entered Belgium.

Fortunately, there was no border checking. I walked to a shop and asked the owner, who spoke little English, where I was. He was a kind, older man and gave me a soft drink and a sandwich. Fortunately, I had Georg’s telephone number. The older man phoned him and explained what had happened to me, and Georg came in an hour to collect me. He laughed and told me I was lucky the Belgium Police had not noticed me. If they had, they would have arrested me and deported me to Sri Lanka, not to the UK!

The viva voce was in the afternoon. It began at 2 pm at the internal examiner Scarlett Epstein’s room and continued until 6.30 pm. John became boisterous in arguing with me to demolish my thesis. At the same time, Scarlett tried to show how well I had presented my arguments. John wanted to know why I had used ‘class relations’ in the thesis title. I told him that ‘class’ is an English word, and he should not expect me to delve into Marxist literature to explain it before using it. Scarlett was supportive and did not agree with John at some points.

In the end, John told me to write two paragraphs to explain what I meant by class and to reconsider changing the title. He also told me that Scarlett would check the revised thesis. He said, “I cannot tell you – Dr. Perera, go home and relax, but I can tell you that if you do the suggested revisions, you could get your doctorate at the summer convocation.” Scarlett advised me to add a few paragraphs in the concluding chapter on women and their role in the processes of social change in modern Sri Lanka. Ron said that the revisions were minor and that I should return the revised thesis to Scarlett before February 1982 to prepare for the summer convocation.

I submitted the revised thesis to the University with its original title by the end of February 1982. On a weekday in late March, I received a registered airmail letter from the Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences. He informed me that the Examination Committee of Sussex University had accepted the recommendation of the board of examiners that I be awarded the Doctor of Philosophy degree. I read it twice and could not control the emotions that swirled in my heart. I thought about thaththa and the discussion I had with him when I was 13. He told me I should do a PhD – now that wish was fulfilled. I walked the long corridor of ARTI, trying to control tears streaming from my eyes. I felt very light and focused, and I thought about how well thaththa and amma had prepared me for this achievement.

(*”Be Still and Know” is the motto of the University of Sussex)

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Features

Pakistan-Sri Lanka ‘eye diplomacy’

Published

19 hours ago

2026/02/18

Sahan Weerasooriya

The writer handing over a donation to restore the eyesight of injured military personnel

Reminiscences:

I was appointed Managing Director of the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation (CPC) and Chairman of the Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd (TPTL – Indian Oil Company/ Petroleum Corporation of Sri Lanka joint venture), in February 2023, by President Ranil Wickremesinghe. I served as TPTL Chairman voluntarily. TPTL controls the world-renowned oil tank farm in Trincomalee, abandoned after World War II. Several programmes were launched to repair tanks and buildings there. I enjoyed travelling to Trincomalee, staying at Navy House and monitoring the progress of the projects. Trincomalee is a beautiful place where I spent most of my time during my naval career.

My main task as MD, CPC, was to ensure an uninterrupted supply of petroleum products to the public.

With the great initiative of the then CPC Chairman, young and energetic Uvis Mohammed, and equally capable CPC staff, we were able to do our job diligently, and all problems related to petroleum products were overcome. My team and I were able to ensure that enough stocks were always available for any contingency.

The CPC made huge profits when we imported crude oil and processed it at our only refinery in Sapugaskanda, which could produce more than 50,000 barrels of refined fuel in one stream working day! (One barrel is equal to 210 litres). This huge facility encompassing about 65 acres has more than 1,200 employees and 65 storage tanks.

A huge loss the CPC was incurring due to wrong calculation of “out turn loss” when importing crude oil by ships and pumping it through Single Point Mooring Buoy (SPMB) at sea and transferring it through underwater fuel transfer lines to service tanks was detected and corrected immediately. That helped increase the CPC’s profits.

By August 2023, the CPC made a net profit of 74,000 million rupees (74 billion rupees)! The President was happy, the government was happy, the CPC Management was happy and the hard-working CPC staff were happy. I became a Managing Director of a very happy and successful State-Owned Enterprise (SOE). That was my first experience in working outside military/Foreign service.

I will be failing in my duty if I do not mention Sagala Rathnayake, then Chief of Staff to the President, for recommending me for the post of MD, CPC.

The only grievance they had was that we were not able to pay their 2023 Sinhala/Tamil New Year bonus due to a government circular. After working at CPC for six months and steering it out of trouble, I was ready to move out of CPC.

I was offered a new job as the Sri Lanka High Commissioner to Pakistan. I was delighted and my wife and son were happy. Our association with Pakistan, especially with the Pakistan Military, is very long. My son started schooling in Karachi in 1995, when I was doing the Naval War Course there. My wife Yamuna has many good friends in Pakistan. I am the first Military officer to graduate from the Karachi University in 1996 (BSc Honours in War Studies) and have a long association with the Pakistan Navy and their Special Forces. I was awarded the Nishan-e-Imtiaz (Military) medal—the highest National award by the Pakistan Presidentm in 2019m when I was Chief of Defence Staff. I am the only Sri Lankan to have been awarded this prestigious medal so far. I knew my son and myself would be able to play a quiet game of golf every morning at the picturesque Margalla Golf Club, owned by the Pakistan Navy, at the foot of Margalla hills, at Islamabad. The golf club is just a walking distance from the High Commissioner’s residence.

When I took over as Sri Lanka High Commissioner at Islamabad on 06 December 2023, I realised that a number of former Service Commanders had held that position earlier. The first Ceylonese High Commissioner to Pakistan, with a military background, was the first Army Commander General Anton Muthukumaru. He was concurrently Ambassador to Iran. Then distinguished Service Commanders, like General H W G Wijayakoon, General Gerry Silva, General Srilal Weerasooriya, Air Chief Marshal Jayalath Weerakkody, served as High Commissioners to Islamabad. I took over from Vice Admiral Mohan Wijewickrama (former Chief of Staff of Navy and Governor Eastern Province).

A photograph of Dr. Silva (second from right) in Brigadier
(Dr) Waquar Muzaffar’s album

One of the first visitors I received was Kawaja Hamza, a prominent Defence Correspondent in Islamabad. His request had nothing to do with Defence matters. He wanted to bring his 84-year-old father to see me; his father had his eyesight restored with corneas donated by a Sri Lankan in 1972! His eyesight is still good, but he did not know the Sri Lankan donor who gave him this most precious gift. He wanted to pay gratitude to the new Sri Lankan High Commissioner and to tell him that as a devoted Muslim, he prayed for the unknown donor every day! That reminded me of what my guru in Foreign Service, the late Foreign Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar told me when I was First Secretary/ Defence Advisor, Sri Lanka High Commission in New Delhi. That is “best diplomacy is people-to-people contacts.” This incident prompted me to research more into “Pakistan-Sri Lanka Eye Diplomacy” and what I learnt was fascinating!

Do you know the Sri Lanka Eye Donation Society has donated more than 26,000 corneas to Pakistan, since 1964 to date! That means more than 26,000 Pakistani people see the world with SRI LANKAN EYES! The Sri Lankan Eye Donation Society has provided 100,000 eye corneas to foreign countries FREE! To be exact 101,483 eye corneas during the last 65 years! More than one fourth of these donations was to one single country- Pakistan. Recent donations (in November 2024) were made to the Pakistan Military at Armed Forces Institute of Ophthalmology (AFIO), Rawalpindi, to restore the sight of Pakistan Army personnel who suffered eye injuries due to Improvised Explosive Devices (IED) blasts. This donation was done on the 75th Anniversary of the Sri Lanka Army.

Deshabandu Dr. F. G. Hudson Silva, a distinguished old boy of Nalanda College, Colombo, started collecting eye corneas as a medical student in 1958. His first set of corneas were collected from a deceased person and were stored at his home refrigerator at Wijerama Mawatha, Colombo 7. With his wife Iranganie De Silva (nee Kularatne), he started the Sri Lanka Eye Donation Society in 1961. They persuaded Buddhists to donate their eyes upon death. This drive was hugely successful.

Their son (now in the US) was a contemporary of mine at Royal College. I pledged to donate (of course with my parents’ permission) my eyes upon my death when I was a student at Royal college in 1972 on a Poson Full Moon Poya Day. Thousands have done so.

On Vesak Full Moon Poya Day in 1964, the first eye corneas were carried in a thermos flask filled with Ice, to Singapore, by Dr Hudson Silva and his wife and a successful eye transplant surgery was performed. From that day, our eye corneas were sent to 62 different countries.

Pakistan Lions Clubs, which supported this noble gesture, built a beautiful Eye Hospital for humble people at Gulberg, Lahore, where eye surgeries are performed, and named it Dr Hudson Silva Lions Eye Hospital.

The good work has continued even after the demise of Dr Hudson Silva in 1999.

So many people have donated their eyes upon their death, including President J. R. Jayewardene, whose eye corneas were used to restore the eyesight of one Japanese and one Sri Lankan. Dr Hudson Silva became a great hero in Pakistan and he was treated with dignity and respect whenever he visited Pakistan. My friend, Brigadier (Dr) Waquar Muzaffar, the Commandant of AFIO, was able to dig into his old photographs and send me a precious photo taken in 1980, 46 years ago (when he was a medical student), with Dr Hudson Silva.

We will remember Dr and Mrs Hudson Silva with gratitude.

Bravo Zulu to Sri Lanka Eye Donation Society!

by Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defense Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

Features

Lasting solutions require consensus

Published

2 days ago

2026/02/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Social Media training

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

Published

2 days ago

2026/02/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

A pro-government demonstration calling for the implementation of the education reforms. (A file photo)

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.