Features
The Wrath of a Nation
by Anura Gunasekera
The wrath of a nation can be a fearful thing. In 2022 we saw its evolution and culmination in our own “Aragalaya“, which sent the then president, a so called “battle hardened” war veteran and “warrior-statesman”, first in to exile and then to precipitate retirement.
We saw it again, just a couple of weeks ago, in the election of Sri Lanka’s ninth executive president, a villager from deeply rural Tambuttegama, the son of a surveyor’s assistant. That he was the first student from Tambuttegama Central College to gain university entrance, is another factor which attests to the absence of privilege and personal resources. His election is also an extension of the “Aragalaya”, and a logical evolution of that movement, but without the drama and histrionics and, instead, that energy, that anger, legitimately channeled in to a quiet civic purpose.
Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) is an unlikely incumbent in the presidential palace, not only because of his very modest background, but also because of the baggage and history of violence, against the very people and the institutions he is now going to govern, perpetrated by the political party which sponsored him. The late Ranasinghe Premadasa, too, came from the urban equivalent of social irrelevance but, by the time he became president of the country, he was already a towering force in national politics.
Most of the 5.7 million people who voted AKD in to power, including this writer and his wife, had not forgotten the impact and consequences of the 1971 JVP insurrection, or those of the second in 1988/89. Given that disturbing context, why did he win the 2024 presidential election, albeit by a slim majority? AKD was a toddler during the first insurrection but has readily admitted to playing a part in the second, as a very active member.
I offer my(our) voting pattern as a likely explanation.
In 1977, I rode from Kandapola to Kadadorapitiya in Kotmale, a distance of 50 km in the pouring rain, with my wife on the pillion, and we voted for the UNP candidate for Kotmale. As a working tea planter then, I and many of my colleagues, were deeply disturbed by the intimidatory demonstrations of many ruling SLFP politicians, against the plantation fraternity. That was the last time we voted for a party led by J.R. Jayewardene (JRJ). In 2005, despite serious misgivings, we voted for Ranil Wickremesinghe, as I found Mahinda Rajapaksa’s (MR) racially-charged rhetoric, abhorrent.
In 2009 we opted for Field Marshal, Sarath Fonseka, as a more decent, uncorrupt alternative to Rajapaksa rule, though I gave MR credit for having displayed the political will, for the elimination of the LTTE threat against the Sri Lankan nation-state. In 2015, revolted by the rampant corruption and the aggressively anti-minority stance of the Rajapaksa regime, we chose Maithripala Sirisena and Yahapalanaya.
I even wrote a couple of articles, extolling the virtues of the good governance that was promised. There was hope, for a few weeks, till the “bond scam” ordure hit the proverbial fan and dispelled the euphoria. The promise of good governance was just a cover for the swindles which followed. In 2019 we voted for Sajith Premadasa, as we were convinced, with total justification, that Gotabaya Rajapaksa would be an extension of Rajapksa misrule, despite the contrary opinion of 6.9 million people.
Five years later, along with a few million others, we have placed our faith in the passionate, peasant reformer from Tambuttegama.
Commencing with the JRJ regime, key features of all successive governments have been State corruption, intimidation and assassination of critics, an arrogant disregard for the judiciary which included physical intimidation, the patronage of criminals, and complicity in fraudulent transactions of massive proportions, which depleted State resources, carried out by the State itself or through empowered proxies. These rose to new heights under MR and, under GR, were further compounded by moronic presidential directives, which impoverished the nation through the loss of agricultural land productivity.
The cumulative result of the above was a financial implosion, the summary eviction of GR, and the unexpected installation of Ranil Wickremesinghe (RW), as an unlikely saviour. He did restore a measure of fiscal sanity and provided the nation with some relief, but coupled it with the imposition of unbearable financial hardship on citizens, who were actually the helpless victims of the crimes of the rulers.
Along with the restoration of financial order, RW’s term as president was also signposted by questionable deals, of proportions which relegated the earlier “bond scam” in to insignificance. The Adani wind-power project, the “Visa” scam and the electronic passport deal, are but a few typical examples. Added to that was RW’s arrogant dismissal of Supreme Court directives and his contemptuous rebuttals to legitimate queries, even in Parliament. In an article published in the “Island” newspaper of July 17, 2022, I suggested that RW’s first acts as “appointed president”, may be the “preliminaries to a fascist regime to rival that of the deposed president, Gotabaya Rajapaksa”. I was not wrong.
Thus, despite changes in regimes and rulers, the corrupt and the powerful continued to thrive, proving to an agonized nation that powerful men will always protect powerful men, irrespective of differences in political belief. The people and the faces changed but the status quo, the license to loot and impunity from consequences, has been inviolate.
In the meantime, Sajith Premadasa (SP) despite overbearing, self-adulatory rhetoric , even in relation to the simplest of issues, when actually put to the test, twice demonstrated that he did not have the courage to venture in to unchartered territory. I voiced my feelings in two articles in the ‘Island- (The River That Sajith Premadasa Did Not Cross- May 15 2022 and, The Wickremesinghe Presidency- July 27,.2022). It must have crossed SP’s mind, after the latest loss, that had he seized the moment then, instead of allowing RW to grab it, he would probably be the elected president today.
AKD, our new president, notwithstanding repeated rejection by the electors, has remained firmly grounded to his platform of systems reform, fearlessly naming names and exposing corruption. His campaign message was fluent, direct and simple, and it has been accepted by a reasonable majority (42%) of those who voted, representing an exponential, hardly credible, increase from the paltry 3.16% in the 2019 presidential election.
Patali Ranawaka, parliamentarian, along with many other detractors, has sought to belittle this achievement, suggesting that AKD has been rejected by 58% of the voters. This simplistic arithmetic, if applied to the other two contestants, would suggest that SP has been rejected by 68% and RW by 83%, the latter despite his repeated claims, of having ferried the infant Sri Lankan nation across troubled waters.
Namal Rajapaksa’s (NM) abysmal performance, was a refreshingly unequivocal message from the entire nation, that the Rajapaksa brand of Sinhala-Buddhist centred, militaristic rhetoric, was no longer a marketable product, though related issues were not given central focus during his campaign. NR, stupidly arrogant and myopic, pre-election, spoke loftily, with smug conviction, of furthering the “Mahinda Chinthanaya”, and was rejected by 98% of the electors. RW’s performance too may have been better, had he not surrounded himself with the most corrupt of the Pohottuwa regime. Conversely, the election result reinforces the proven dictum, that the unappetizing RW is a negative influence on any alliance.
Overall, the 2024 election, for the first time since Independence, represents an unexpected maturity of outlook in the Sri Lankan nation. By electing the outsider from Tambuttegama, the voters have broken with the entrenched tradition of family rule, dynastic succession and old-party loyalty, along with the rejection of the tired, obsolete, ideologies of the established parties, parroted, in different ways, by both RW and SP.
The anger of the voters resonated with AKD’s message for a complete systems reform, an end to State corruption, and promised punishment for the corrupt and the criminal. AKD represents the last hope for a nation, nauseated, and impoverished, by the venality of its rulers. It is that message that I responded to, notwithstanding credible apprehensions about possible long-term outcomes of NPP-JVP rule.
His commitment to and focus on, transparency, accountability and social justice, inequalities in health care, educational opportunities, employment creation and environmental sustainability, mirrored the aspirations and concerns of many, especially those at the middle and lower end of the socio-economic ladder. Those comprise clear and optimistic visions for the future, particularly appealing in a time of great national uncertainty. They are also issues which engage the attention of educated youth, who have been frustrated by successive governments.
AKD has fared poorly in the Central Province plantation areas, and the North and the East, where the minorities are pre-dominant. He needs to quickly engage those polities, who have different needs, aspirations and agendas, all legitimate, but denied or subverted by a succession of Sinhala-Buddhist centrist governments. In this area AKD will be treading thin ice, meeting minority aspirations whilst keeping at bay two key JVP/NPP support segments – the retired military and the politically active Buddhist monks. The latter group in particular, is openly committed to Sinhala-Buddhist supremacy and the imposition of a Buddhist seal in the North and the East, engaging for their project the willing support of the forces, the Police Department and even the Department of Archaeology.
Recently, on You-tube, I watched a pre-election rally addressed by AKD, held at the Tambuttegama Central School grounds. He spoke convincingly, and movingly, of the life that he, his family, his fellow villagers and his schoolmates had led. In a matter-of-fact manner, he described the deprivation, the lack of resources and opportunities , and the social and economic marginalization that had been their lot. The audience – his community – listened in pin-drop silence. It was their story as well. Through that deeply personal narrative, he was reflecting the marginal circumstances of 80% of the people of this country, especially in the rural areas. If only a fraction of his manifesto is implemented, it will make life better for that segment and to that end, he needs, and deserves, the mandate that he is seeking.
Features
Peace march and promise of reconciliation
The ongoing peace march by a group of international Buddhist monks has captured the sentiment of Sri Lankans in a manner that few public events have done in recent times. It is led by the Vietnamese monk Venerable Thich Pannakara who is associated with a mindfulness movement that has roots in Vietnamese Buddhist practice and actively promoted among diaspora communities in the United States. The peace march by the monks, accompanied by their mascot, the dog Aloka, has generated affection and goodwill within the Buddhist and larger community. It follows earlier peace walks in the United States where monks carried a similar message of mindfulness and compassion across communities but without any government or even media patronage as in Sri Lanka.
This initiative has the potential to unfold into an effort to nurture a culture of peace in Sri Lanka. Such a culture is necessary if the country as the country prepares to move beyond its history of conflict towards a more longlasting reconciliation and a political solution to its ethnic and religious divisions. The government’s support for the peace march can be seen as part of a broader attempt to shape such a culture. The Clean Sri Lanka programme, promoted by the government as a civic responsibility campaign focused on environmental cleanliness, ethical conduct and social discipline, provides a useful framework within which such initiatives can be situated. Its emphasis on collective responsibility and shared public space makes it sit well with the values that peacebuilding requires.
government’s previous plan to promote a culture of peace was on the occasion of “Sri Lanka Day” celebrations which were scheduled to take place on December 12-14 last year but was disrupted by Cyclone Ditwah. The Sri Lanka Day celebrations were to include those talented individuals from each and every community at the district level who had excelled in some field or the other, such as science, business or arts and culture and selected by the District Secretariats in each of the 25 districts. They were to gather in Colombo to engage in cultural performances and community-focused exhibitions. The government’s intention was to build up a discourse around the ideas of unity in diversity as a precursor to addressing the more contentious topics of human rights violations during the war period, and issues of accountability and reparations for wrongs suffered during that dark period.
Positive Response
The invitation to the international monks appears to have emerged from within Buddhist religious networks in Sri Lanka that have long maintained links with the larger international Buddhist community. The strong support extended by leading temples and clergy within the country, including the Buddhists Mahanayakes indicates that this was not an isolated effort but one that resonated with the mainstream Buddhist establishment. Indeed, the involvement of senior Buddhist leaders has been particularly noteworthy. A Joint Declaration for Peace in the world, drawing on Sri Lanka’s own experience, and by the Mahanayakes of all Buddhist Chapters took place in the context of the ongoing peace march at the Gangaramaya Temple in Colombo, with participation from the diplomatic community. The declaration, calling for compassion, dialogue and sustainable peace, reflects an effort by religious leadership to assert a moral voice in favour of coexistence.
The popular response to the peace march has also been striking. Large numbers of people have been gathering along the route, offering flowers, water and support to the monks. Schoolchildren have been lining the roads, and communities from different religious backgrounds extend hospitality. On the way, the monks were hosted by both a Hindu temple and a mosque, where food and refreshments were provided. These acts, though simple, carry a message about the possibility of harmony among Sri Lanka’s diverse communities. It helps to counter the perception that the Buddhist community in Sri Lanka is inherently nationalist and resistant to minority concerns that was shaped during the decades of war and reinforced by political mobilisation that too often exploited ethnic identity.
By way of contrast, the peace march offers a different image. It shows a readiness among ordinary people to embrace values of compassion and coexistence that are deeply embedded in Buddhist teaching. The Metta Sutta, one of the most well-known discourses in Buddhism, calls for boundless goodwill towards all beings. It states that one should cultivate a mind that is “boundless towards all beings, free from hatred and ill will.” This emphasis on universal compassion provides a moral foundation for peace that extends beyond national or ethnic boundaries. The monks themselves emphasised this point repeatedly during the walk. Venerable Thich Pannakara reminded those who gathered that while acts of generosity are commendable, mindfulness in everyday life is even more important. He warned that as people become unmindful, they are more prone to react with anger and hatred, thereby contributing to conflict.
More Initiatives
The presence of political leaders at key moments of the march has emphasised the significance that the government attaches to the event. Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya paid her respects to the peace march monks in Kandy, while President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is expected to do so at the conclusion of the march in Colombo. Such gestures signal an alignment between political authority and moral aspiration, even if the translation of that aspiration into policy remains a work in progress. At the same time, the peace march has not been without its shortcomings. The walk did not engage with the Northern and Eastern parts of the country, regions that were most affected by the war and where the need for reconciliation is most acute. A more inclusive geographic reach would have strengthened the symbolic impact of the initiative.
In addition, the positive impact of the peace march could have been increased if more effort had been taken to coordinate better with other civic and religious groups and include them in the event. Many civil society and religious harmony groups who would have liked to participate in the peace march found themselves unable to do so. There was no place in the programme for them to join. Even government institutions tasked with promoting social cohesion and reconciliation found themselves outside the loop. The Clean Sri Lanka Task Force that organised the peace march may have felt that involving other groups would have made it more complicated to organise the events which have proceeded without problems.
The hope is that the positive energy and goodwill generated by this peace march will not dissipate but will instead inspire further initiatives with the requisite coordination and leadership. The march has generated public discussion, drawn attention to the values of mindfulness and compassion, and created a space in which people can imagine a different future. It has been a special initiative among the many that are needed to build a culture of peace. A culture of peace cannot be imposed from above nor can it emerge overnight. It needs to be nurtured through multiple efforts across society, including education, religious engagement, civic initiatives and political reform. It is within such a culture that the more difficult questions of power sharing, justice and reconciliation can be addressed in a constructive manner.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Regional Universities
The countryside and peripheral regions have been neglected in the national imagination for many decades. This has also been the case with regional universities which were seen as mere appendages to the university system, and sometimes created to appease political constituencies in the regions. The exclusion of the rural world and the institutions in those regions was not accidental nor inevitable, but the consequence of conscious policies promoted under an extractive and exploitative global order. Neoliberalism globalisation, initiated in the late 1970s with far-reaching policies of free trade and free flow of capital, or the “open economy,” as we call it in Sri Lanka, is now dying. The United States and the Western countries that promoted neoliberalism, as a class project of finance capital to address the falling profits during the long economic downturn in the 1970s, are themselves reversing their policies and are at loggerheads with each other. However, those economic processes will continue to have national consequences into the future.
At the heart of such policies is the neoliberal city, which has become the centre of the economy with expanding financial businesses and a real estate boom. Such financialised cities also had their impact on universities, in lower income countries, where commercialised education with high fees, rising student debt, research for businesses and transnational educational linkages with branch campuses of Western universities, have become a reality.
In the case of Sri Lanka, while neoliberal policies began with the IMF and World Bank Structural Adjustment Programmes, in the late 1970s, the long civil war forestalled the accelerated growth of the neoliberal city. I have argued, over the last decade and a half, that it is with the end of the civil war, in 2009, coinciding with the global financial crisis, that a second wave of neoliberalism in Sri Lanka led to global finance capital being absorbed in infrastructure and real estate in Colombo. The transformation of Colombo into a neoliberal city was overseen by Gotabaya Rajapaksa as Defence Secretary with even the Urban Development Authority brought under the security establishment. While Colombo was drastically changing with a skyline of new buildings and shiny luxury vehicles drawing on massive external debt, there were also moves to promote private higher education institutions. The Board of Investment (BOI) registered many hundred so-called higher education institutions; these were not regulated and many mushroomed like supermarkets and disappeared in no time when they incurred losses.
In contrast to these so-called private higher education institutions that proliferated in and around Colombo, Sri Lanka, drawing on its free education system, has, over the last many decades, also created a number of state universities in peripheral regions. However, these regional universities lack adequate funding and a clear vision and purpose. The current conjuncture with the neoliberal global order unravelling, and the immediate global crisis in energy and transport are grim reminders of the importance of local economies and self-sufficiency. In this column I consider the role of our regional universities and their relationship to the communities within which they are embedded.
Regional context
The necessity and the advantage of robust public services is their reach into peripheral regions and marginalised communities. This is true of public transport, as it is with public hospitals. Private buses will always avoid isolated rural routes as their margins only increase on the busy routes between cities and towns. And private hospitals and clinics flock to the cities to extract from desperate patients, including by unscrupulous doctors who divert patients in public hospitals to be served in the private health facilities they moonlight. Similarly, it is affluent cities and towns that are the attraction for private educational institutions.
Public institutions, including universities, can only ensure their public role if they are adequately funded. Over the last decade and a half, with falling allocations for education, our state universities have been pushed into initiating fee levying courses, both at the post-graduate level and also for undergraduate international students. These programmes are seen as avenues to decrease the dependence of universities on budgetary support. However, the reality is that it is only universities in Colombo that can draw in students capable of paying such high fees. Furthermore, such fee levying courses end up pushing academics into overwork including by offering additional income.
Therefore, allocations for underfunded regional universities need to be steadily increased. Housing facilities and other services for academics working in rural districts would ensure their continued presence and greater engagement with the local communities. Increased time away from teaching and research funding earmarked for community engagement will provide clear direction for academics. Indeed, such funding with a clear vision and role for regional universities can provide considerable social returns. In a time when repeated crises are affecting our society, agricultural production to bolster our food system as well as rural income streams and employment are major issues. Here, regional universities have an important role today in developing social and economic alternatives.
Reimagining development
In recent months, there have been interesting initiatives in the Northern Province, where the Universities of Jaffna and Vavuniya have been engaging state institutions on issues of development. In an initiative to bring different actors together, high level meetings have been convened between the staff of the Agriculture Faculty and officials of the Provincial Agriculture Ministry to figure out solutions for long pending agricultural problems. Similar meetings have also been organised between provincial authorities and the Faculties of Technology and Engineering in Kilinochchi. These initiatives have led to academics engaging communities and co-operatives on their development needs, particularly in formulating new development initiatives and activating idle projects and assets in the region. Such engagement provides opportunities for academics to share their knowledge and skills while learn from communities about challenges that lead to new problems for research.
One of the most rewarding engagements I have been part of is an internship programme for the Technology Faculty of the University of Jaffna, where four batches of final year students, from food technology, green farming and automobile specialities, have been placed for six months within the co-operative movement through the Northern Co-operative Development Bank. This initiative has created a strong relationship between the Technology Faculty and the co-operative movement, with a number of former students now working fulltime in co-operative ventures. They are at the centre of developing solutions for rural co-operatives, including activating idle factories and ensuring quality and standards for their products.
I refer to these concrete initiatives because universities’ role in research and development in Sri Lanka, as in most other countries, are often narrowly conceived to be engagement with private businesses. However, for rural regions, the challenge, even with technological development, is the generation of appropriate technologies that can serve communities.
In Sri Lanka, we have for long emulated the major Western universities and in the process lost sight of the needs of our own youth and communities. Rethinking the development of our universities may have to begin with an understanding of the real challenges and context of our people. Our universities and their academics, if provided with a progressive vision and adequate resources and time to engage their communities, have the potential to address the many economic and social challenges that the next decade of global turmoil is bound to create.
Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.
(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)
by Ahilan Kadirgamar
Features
‘Disco Lady’ hitmaker now doing it for Climate Change
The name Alston Koch is generally associated with the hit song ‘Disco Lady.’ Yes, he has had several other top-notch songs to his credit but how many music lovers are aware that Alston is one of the few Asian-born entertainers using music for climate advocacy, since 2008.
He is back in the ‘climate change’ scene, with SUNx Malta, to celebrate Earth Day 2026, with the release of ‘A Symphony for Change’ – a vibrant Dodo4Kids video by Alston.
The inspiring musical video highlights ocean conservation and empowers children as future climate champions, honouring Maurice Strong’s legacy through education, creativity, and global collaboration for a sustainable planet.
The four-minute animated musical, composed and performed by platinum award-winning artiste Alston Koch, brings to life a resurrected Dodo, guiding children on a mission to clean up marine environments.
With a catchy melody and an uplifting message, the video blends entertainment with education—making climate awareness accessible and engaging for the next generation.
SUNx Malta is a Climate Friendly Travel system, focused on transforming the global tourism sector that is low-carbon, SDG-linked, and nature-positive.
Professor Geoffrey Lipman, President of SUNx Malta, described the project as a joyful collaboration with purpose:
“It’s always a pleasure to produce music with Alston for the good of our planet. And this time, to incorporate our Dodo4Kids in the video urging the next generation of young climate champions to help save our seas.”
For Alston, now based in Australia, the collaboration continues a long-standing journey of climate-focused creativity:
Says Alston: “I have been working on climate songs since the first release, in 2009, of the video ‘Act Now.’ Since then, I’ve performed at major global events—from Bali to Glasgow. I wrote this song because the climate horizon is darkening, and our kids and grandkids are our best hope for a brighter future.”
Alston’s very first climate song is ‘Can We Take This Climate Change,’ released in 2008.
It was written by Alston for the World Trade Organisation presentation, in London, and presented at ‘Live the Deal Climate Change’ conference in Copenhagen.
The Sri Lankan-born singer was goodwill ambassador for the campaign, and the then UK Minister Barbara Follett called it a “gift in song to the world suffering due to climate change.”
Alston said he wrote it after noticing butterflies, birds, and fruit trees disappearing from his childhood days.
In 2017, his creation ‘Make a Change’ was released in connection with World Tourism Day 2017.
Alston Koch’s work on climate advocacy is pretty inspiring, especially as climate change is now creating horrifying problems worldwide, and in Sri Lanka, too.
Alston also indicated to us that he has plans to visit Sri Lanka, sometime this year, and, maybe, even plan out a date for an Alston Koch special … a concert, no doubt.
Can’t wait for it!
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