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Prime Minister Wijayananda Dahanayake was a most unconventional character

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Wijayananda Dahanayake

Wijayananda Dahanayake Prime Minister and Minister of Defence and External Affairs (September 1959 — March 1960)

(Excerpted from Rendering Unto Caesar by Bradman Weerakoon, Secretary to THE Prime Minister)

If S W R D Bandaranaike had ushered in the age of the common man, W Dahanayake who followed him as prime minister on his untimely death, was surely the common man himself. Or so he looked at first glance. Dressed always in the white national dress –not necessarily always spotless or immaculately cut like Mr Bandaranaike’s – with a rustic homespun touch about him, a non-smoker and teetotaller at the time I first met him, Dahanayake could easily have fitted the bill. He chatted easily in colloquial Sinhala with a choice of words which bespoke his south Ceylon origin, enjoyed chewing betel after a meal and could squirt out the detritus into a spittoon, or far out into the yard, with the best of them. Along with his disarmingly simple mannerisms and modest ways, he had, in his rather long political life, acquired a reputation for honesty, outspokenness, unpredictability and for being very much on the side of the underdog.

These qualities had made him a favourite of the press who always found him good for a story. The media, I found, were not quite sure – as were many of us in the administration – of who and what Daha, as he was universally known, really was: the shrewd, intelligent and manipulative politician or the amiable and slightly eccentric uncle. There is a well-established folk belief in the country that people who hail from the south, the towns of Galle and Matara in particular, can be deceptively smooth and cool customers.

There were two favourite media stories which were endlessly repeated about him. One was about his attempt — thwarted just in time by a vigilant policeman — to enter the Parliament in a span cloth (amude) to protest the imposition by Mrs Bandaranaike in 1964 of a ration of two yards of textiles per month per person at a time of grave foreign exchange shortage. The other was the record he had created by making the longest speech ever in the State Council in August 1945, thirteen and a half hours, a mammoth filibuster covering two days, during which he was reportedly never once censured by the speaker for the sin of repetition.

Dahanayake’s father was a Muhandiram and the family had always had high status and recognition in the south. He had a strong base of support from ordinary folk who appreciated his earthy and direct ways and his espousal of the many causes they brought to him. He had a lot of time for people and even as prime minister wanted me to establish a small ‘Office of the prime minister’ in Galle. We found a room in the municipal hall opposite the Galle railway station and every weekend during the few months of his premiership he would hold court there. It was perhaps the forerunner of the Presidential Mobile Office which Premadasa in his time as president of the country initiated with his customary enthusiasm of being always with the people. I went down to Galle sometimes when there was something particularly serious to attend to.

Dahanayake’s family had a tradition of supporting the temple and his father was the president of the Dayaka Sabha of the Wijayananda Pirivena in Galle. His father, who was overjoyed at the birth of twin sons on October 2, 1902 named the elder of the two by twenty minutes, Wijayananda after the Pirivena and the other Kalyanamitra, the kind friend. The twin brothers were exceedingly close and one of the few real friends Dahanayake had was indeed his twin brother who visited him often at Temple Trees. It was quite difficult in the beginning, and especially when they were together, to determine who in fact was the prime minister.

Wijayananda Pirivena was the place where the famous Colonel Olcott, the American theosophist, converted to Buddhism in 1845. Olcott along with his colleague Annie Besant was largely instrumental in energizing the movement which had commenced about that time to raise the status of Buddhism which had been overshadowed during the colonial period by the dominance of Christianity, the religion of the ruler and the patronage extended to it by the state.

They did so mainly by the support they lent to the establishment of Buddhist schools throughout the country. Such schools initiated by the BTS – the Buddhist Theosophical Society – were as a countervailing force to the proselytizing work of the CMS, the Church Missionary Society, and had an important influence on the future development of political power structures. I have no doubt that Dahanayake’s abiding interest in the education sphere and his path-breaking initiative in raising the status of the chief Pirivenas – the Vidyodaya and Vidyalankara Pirivenas in Colombo, to University status, when he served as minister of education in the Bandaranaike Cabinet – were conditioned by his early exposure to the importance of pirivena education.

But there were many other moments, too, which people remembered and spoke about. In 1940, as a member of the State Council for Bibile, a remote constituency in the Uva Province that he represented for a while, far removed from his native Galle, Dahanayake had played an important part in persuading the elite Ceylonese leadership of the times that free education for children – a pearl of great price no doubt – was a right that could not be denied. He did so by sponsoring the collection of signatures for a public petition supporting the initiatives of Dr C WW Kannangara, then minister of education of free education for all the children in the colony.

It was a path-breaking idea but an extremely difficult project to carry forward with no party machinery and a generally indifferent press. Public petitions were the order of the day and Dahanayake’s leadership with a list of signatures that, as rumour has it, stretched from the steps of the State Council to the doors of the Chamber itself, went a long way to convince the colonial secretary to give the bill his consent.

We are now aware of how this uncommon southern countryman, Wijayananda Dahanayake, came to act for and finally succeeded Mr Bandaranaike after he was mortally wounded that fateful Friday morning of September 25, 1959. The story is one worth telling. Bandaranaike and Dahanayake had been in the political field for many years starting from the old State Council days. Both being able debaters they had often jousted with each other. Parliament was the friendly battleground for good-natured barb and repartee and Dahanayake, like several other politicians of the time, fancied himself as a versifier too. In 1952 as an independent in the opposition he had parodied J R Jayewardene, then minister of finance, who had suddenly and with drastic consequences for the government of the day, removed the subsidy on rice. It went thus imitating Alice in Wonderland:

I thought I saw a kangaroo
In sherwani on the beach
I looked again and found it was
Our J R’s Budget speech
“I’ll sell you bags of rice, “he said
With a price beyond your reach.”

Dahanayake had a celebrated rhyming couplet against Bandaranaike too, which ran:
I do not love thee Banda dear because you change from year to year.

However the winds of 1956 changed all that. Dahanayake, as minister of education in the MEP government became one of Mr Bandaranaike’s staunchest and most energetic Cabinet colleagues.

In the last few months before Mr Bandaranaike’s demise, the MEP coalition, which Mr Bandaranaike had led to victory with such an overwhelming people’s mandate, was beginning to come apart. Irreconcilable differences in policy had led to the resignation of Mr Phillip Gunawardene and Mr William de Silva, two of his most able ministers, from the Cabinet in 1959.

The ideological divide in his MEP coalition, between the Left, which the VLSSP represented so forcefully, and his own party the SLFP, had come out into the open. The Paddy Lands Act, Phillip Gunawardene’s brainchild, which attempted to secure permanency of tenure to the ande cultivators of paddy fields, was strenuously opposed by the rightists in the Cabinet led by C P de Silva, minister of lands and land development, Stanley de Zoysa, minister of finance and Mrs Vimala Wijewardene, the minister of health. A series of crippling strikes in the industrial and commercial sectors occurred in the first half of 1959 greatly preoccupying Mr Bandaranaike who had no particular liking for or experience over the nuts and bolts of bargaining with trade unions.

The resignations of two important ministers and some cross-overs (it was still possible under the Soulbury Constitution for MPs to leave a party and cross-over to the other side) left the government with a very thin majority for most of 1959. I well recall how important it was to muster every vote for important bills in Parliament.

Worse was to follow when C P de Silva, then Leader of the House, and the obvious choice to act for the prime minister when on leave, was stricken with a mysterious illness on August 26. Destiny was stepping in quite unexpectedly to give Mr Dahanayake a chance for the top leadership position and I had some little hand in the drama.

On the afternoon of September 24 I had inquired of Mr Bandaranaike as to who would act as prime minister during his absence abroad: and he had said, “Mr Dahanayake.” I got his signature on the letter to the governor-general in terms of Article 46 (iv) recommending Dahanayake to act for him during his absence from the island and personally handed it over to N W Atukorale, Sir Oliver’s official secretary. So the governor-general had before him, most conveniently, and in writing, a nominated successor.

It was to be a very short act. After the news came through that the prime minister had succumbed to his fatal injuries at 7.45 am on the morning of September 26, Mr Dahanayake drove once more to Queens House, this time to formally take the oath of office as prime minister. The transition of chosen succession to the highest position in the land had, in a tumultuous moment of history, been almost effortlessly accomplished. We were seeing in action, the phrase, common in British history: ‘The king is dead: long live the king’ brought to reality in our own land.

Unlike Bandaranaike, who had lived at No 65 Rosmead Place, a charming two-storied bungalow in the most fashionable part of Colombo city – Cinnamon Gardens – and which remains a prestigious address even today, Dahanayake, the rural boy from the south, had managed, even as a minister and a bachelor, with a single room at the MP’s hostel ‘Sravasti’. Dahanayake indicated to me at the swearing-in that, now that he had been duly appointed, he would like to shift to Temple Trees, the official residence of the prime minister.

I well remember the day that Dahanayake moved in. I had asked Guhaprasadam, the superintendent of government stores and his assistant, Singaratnam – the official residences being maintained and serviced by the Government Stores Department – to be present to receive the new occupant and show him around. As soon as Dahanayake arrived, accompanied by two somewhat battered suitcases, he asked to see his bedroom. I took him upstairs and showed him the master bedroom. He took one long look around the ornate double bed and antique furniture and said abruptly “I say, I can’t sleep in this. Can’t you find me a smaller room?”

On being informed that all the bedrooms were of a similar size and small rooms were found only in the servants’ quarters, Daha hit on a brilliant idea. “Get the carpenters,” he said, “and make me a smaller room within this room.” This the Government Stores did, fashioning a room within a room in the stately official residence; a room sufficient to hold his single bed, wardrobe and dressing table, made with wooden frames and plywood sheeting, within the master bedroom and with its own little internal door.

The only later addition to the furniture within his inner room which he soon ordered brought in, was a large iron safe in which he personally stored the many cash donations he began to receive from the business community as he prepared to face the inevitable coming general election. For the next six months, after an interregnum of almost 10 years, Temple Trees’ was to have a new and unconventional master in residence.

(To be continued next week)



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Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach

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Volker Türk

by Jehan Perera

The ongoing 63rd session of the United Nations Human Rights Council, which runs from September 7 to October 7, 2026, in Geneva is important to Sri Lanka. Its outcome will send a signal to other international actors, including the European Union, as to whether Sri Lanka’s reform policy is on track. The written update on Sri Lanka, prepared by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights under High Commissioner Volker Türk and presented by Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif, has taken a more holistic approach to the government’s performance over the past year. It acknowledged the progress Sri Lanka has made under the NPP government in relation to accountability for financial fraud and other economic crimes. At the same time, the High Commissioner’s update made clear that progress in relation to economic crime cannot be equated with progress in relation to accountability for grave human rights violations committed during the armed conflict and in other periods of political violence.

The government may have felt sufficiently confident that its response to the High Commissioner’s update could be handled by its representative in Geneva and did not require the attendance of Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath. Sri Lanka’s representative Sumith Dassanayake called for a fundamental review of country-specific mandates within the UN Human Rights Council. Sri Lanka has been facing repeated scrutiny in the form of successive UNHRC resolutions from 2012 onwards. Ambassador Dassanayake argued that such mandates should not continue indefinitely and must be regularly assessed against measurable objectives and tangible outcomes. This may reflect confidence that its record of reform is beginning to receive recognition internationally. The reports and statements at the Human Rights Council acknowledged progress in the government’s efforts to address corruption and economic crime.

The government’s anti-corruption drive has included investigations into allegations involving individuals who held the highest political offices in the country. The arrest of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe in connection with alleged misuse of public funds, and the investigation into the controversial SriLankan Airlines Airbus transaction involving former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, are examples of the reach of these investigations. The arrest of SLPP National Organiser and Member of Parliament Namal Rajapaksa in connection with allegations relating to the Airbus purchase scandal has also demonstrated that the government is willing to pursue cases involving politically powerful figures.

Wide Range

The ongoing investigations appear to encompass a wide range of parliamentarians and government members, both past and present. They suggest that accountability for corruption is not being confined to lower-level officials or to individuals who lack political influence. This is precisely the kind of accountability that the public has long demanded and that previous governments have too often failed to deliver. The government is also reaching into the upper levels of the military hierarchies of the past. The case in which 11 young men, most of them Tamil, disappeared after being abducted in Colombo between 2008 and 2009 involved allegations that some families were asked to pay ransoms. The investigation into this case has reached senior military figures. The willingness to pursue such cases is important because it challenges the assumption that those who exercised power during the war are beyond the reach of the law. Such cases would provide a practical test of whether the government’s commitment to accountability for economic crimes is part of a broader commitment to the rule of law.

Success in prosecuting corruption cannot substitute for justice for those who were unlawfully killed, disappeared, tortured or otherwise victimised. The UN report noted that there had been no recognition or accountability for crimes under international law, gross human rights violations and serious violations of international humanitarian law committed by all parties during the war. The government has yet to establish a credible and effective process to address the many cases of enforced disappearance, extrajudicial killing, torture and other serious violations. The government needs to take the international commitments it has inherited on human rights issues seriously. It needs to adopt a multi-pronged approach and go beyond focusing primarily on financial and corruption-related accountability.

Need Action

As a member of the international community, Sri Lanka has a responsibility to abide by the commitments it has made. It cannot selectively uphold international obligations postponing those that are politically difficult. Also, as a small country, Sri Lanka has a self-interest in ensuring the survival of international law, which is all that it has to protect it from the depredations of the bigger international actors. The erosion of international law by powerful states makes it all the more important that smaller states uphold the principles on which the international system is based. Sri Lanka cannot credibly appeal to international law when it is threatened from outside while disregarding its own obligations within. Sri Lanka also needs to win the confidence of its own population that it is committed to justice and equality for all. Public opinion polls and community-level research have disclosed that ethnic and religious minorities are appreciative of the sense of greater security they enjoy under the present government from ethnic or religious extremists.

But a sense of security is not the same as the fulfilment of rights. As far as the Tamil people are concerned, the government has yet to deliver on several of its specific promises. These include the long-standing problems of missing persons, the release of political prisoners who have been members of Tamil militant organisations, and the return of land taken over for military purposes during the war. The issue of Buddhist statues and archaeological sites found on their properties which are then taken from their control continue to trouble them especially as they see no signs of resolution of those disputes. The issue of pastureland in the east of the country in Mylathamadu is particularly concerning to them as they see orders by successive presidents, both President Ranil Wickremesinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, being disregarded on the ground. The Mylathamadu pastureland dispute is where traditional Tamil dairy farmers have engaged in multi-year protests against the ongoing encroachment of their ancestral grazing lands by Sinhalese crop cultivators relocated under government development schemes.

The government’s failure to hold Provincial Council elections is particularly troubling. The provincial council system is the only one that can provide the Tamil people and other ethnic minorities the opportunity to wield political power and exercise a measure of self-determination in the areas in which they are the numerical majority. The continued postponement of Provincial Council elections therefore has consequences that go beyond an ordinary electoral delay. It deprives communities of an important constitutional avenue for democratic participation and power-sharing. The ethnic and religious minorities appreciate what the government is doing in the larger national interest, but they must not be made to feel that their special concerns are being ignored. The government cannot resolve Sri Lanka’s entire legacy of rights violations overnight. But it does need to demonstrate that it is willing to move forward on multiple fronts, not only on a few.

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The emptying university: why are academics leaving?

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by Hasini Lecamwasam

Brain drain in Sri Lanka is at an all-time high. The latest Human Flight and Brain Drain Index for 2024 shows that we are 16th of 175 countries on this count, and first in South Asia. That this is a crisis goes without saying. Brain drain affects all sectors, and is a huge strain on the resources of a developing country. Particularly in Sri Lanka, where considerable public investment is made in the moulding of professionals through the system of free education, this amounts to transferring the resources of poorer countries to richer ones with top migration destinations. It is, therefore, important to consider the push and pull factors behind skilled outmigration, specifically from the public university system of Sri Lanka, a key focus of the Kuppi column.

From frustration to exit

Several bitter realities in our crumbling public university system act as push factors in the migration decisions of academics. Many essays on this column have, over several years, attempted to highlight numerous aspects of this erosion. Perhaps, primary among them is the lack of adequate funding, which has debilitating ramifications for the system: very little investment is made in the up-keep of infrastructure (and even less in its expansion), resulting in serious constraints in accommodating growing batches of students and the wellbeing of the staff (particularly in regional universities); research funding is negligible, severely curtailing academics’ ability to effectively discharge their primary duty of teaching which should ideally be informed by their research (and the research of others, access to which is also, unfortunately, mediated by funding); a funding crunch also means a slash in (or greater constraints on) recruitments, increasing the workloads of academics, currently in service, and eating into the quality of their teaching and research.

What recruitments are done frustrate those with any faith in merit. As many of our interventions in this column have shown, recruitment processes are characterised by archaic selection criteria that place very little weight on a candidate’s postgraduate growth and the advantages of interdisciplinary training. Added to this is the general preference for ‘culturally compliant’ candidates who would not rock the boat too much. The combined effect is that those with the capacity and spirit to try out innovations in education are discouraged from joining or staying on in the public university system. Some, or many, of them may instead seek appointments abroad.

A thread that binds all of these problems together is pervasive hierarchy which, again, many interventions on this column have sought to highlight. It is the interest in preserving hierarchy that leads to the preference for alumni in recruitment processes. Hierarchy within universities can be particularly frustrating for younger faculty and women, who typically have to bear the brunt of the workload of their senior, often male, colleagues. In a context of funding, and, therefore, recruitment, restrictions, this translates into a disproportionate burden being placed on junior (usually female) faculty, seriously hindering their prospects of growing into successful academics due to the time constraints within which they have to operate. Junior academics, therefore, are more likely to look to educational institutions abroad for what they hope would be a different work culture that respects them more.

Ideological ruses

On top of these structural frustrations are also the workings of neoliberal ideology. For one, the nature of relations between the global metropole and peripheral countries like Sri Lanka largely dictates what is desirable and what is not. The apparent lifestyles of Western countries – from food to clothing, housing, appliances, and so on – have continued to lure people from the periphery with the promise of a ‘better’ life, alongside better career advancement opportunities. This, of course, masks much of the struggle that goes on behind the scenes to survive in Western societies. For instance, in most cases highly attractive public infrastructure such as roads, public transport, clean air, quality control of food, and so on belie the astronomical privatised costs of healthcare and education. Health insurance is usually mandatory and steep in most high-income settings, while even subsidised education (for which eligibility criteria are strict) creates a serious dent in household earnings. Of course, the happy images of glossy trams and gleeful international travellers don’t convey this.

A second ideological ruse is the myth of greater opportunities and recognition abroad. While there is no denying that local skilled sectors – be it higher education, health, civil service, or private white-collar positions – are replete with issues that inhibit merit-based professional advancement, the notion that things are fundamentally different in Western countries stems from an uninformed optimism. As is now increasingly known and discussed, Western labour markets are notoriously racialised, and equivalent skills are rarely treated as such. Instead, it is usually demanded that skilled migrants clear certain formal examinations in their host countries. In fields like medicine, this is followed by an interview that may also be racially prejudiced. Once these initial steps are cleared, remuneration reverts to square one irrespective of experience accumulated abroad, not to mention the many subtle aggressions, rejections, and trials one has to go through in the negotiation of everyday life. In the many cases where professional qualifications are used as leverage for a move abroad, sights are set on a better future for one’s children, which again is informed by the misplaced faith in greater opportunities and a lack of awareness of the factors outlined above. Needless to say, in the global swing to the Right, things have become even more challenging. In such a context, considering the few rare cases where skilled migrants live extremely comfortable lives as the norm becomes a dangerous misconception.

The two ideological pull factors mentioned above are complemented by a push factor, which has to do with a highly classed understanding of what a white-collar professional is due in their society. Many of these aspirations are clearly articulated in academic trade union action demanding separate quotas for school entry, increased fuel allowances, winning back the presently stalled vehicle permit scheme, salary hikes, and so on. While working people have every right to agitate for better material conditions, insofar as it remains unconnected to a broader movement for improving the conditions of the lot of the working class, it remains self-serving and very much within the class logic of capitalist society. Since these demands are articulated as a means of maintaining distinction, it is clear that they are not envisaged as part of a class movement. The frustration of not having these needs for distinction satisfied may push some to seek greener pastures abroad, at least financially, (perhaps as a means of social mobility based on it), only to be disappointed on most occasions.

What is to be done?

Addressing the systemic push factors listed above requires, first and foremost, greater allocations for free public higher education. This would immediately translate into more recruitments and less work per academic, and better research and teaching in the long haul. An increase in funding would also ideally lead to greater infrastructural investments, especially including improving the living conditions of those who work in regional universities amid untold hardships. Next, fairer, more creative, and, therefore, more effective recruitment policies are badly needed to attract talented individuals to university positions. Rather than carving out a ‘special category’ for academics to achieve this purpose, which is informed by a classed logic, this needs to be done through fundamental reforms in recruitment processes. Third, a persistent attack on the entrenched hierarchy within universities through internal reform is much called for. Reforming recruitment practices will go a long way towards addressing this. Measures should also be taken to introduce more stringent policies against SGBV (not to mention ragging, even though it is not directly connected to brain drain). Such measures would create a safer, fairer, and more attractive workplace, which would give more reasons for people to stay.

On top of greater allocations, we also need a transformation of our aspirations themselves if this situation is to change. That necessitates a kind of education capable of questioning the ‘paradise’ conception of Western societies, and lays bare their colonial material and ideological dimensions, in both their historical and contemporary manifestations. These colonial understandings of the ‘good life’, moreover, have devastating ecological implications for the planet, not to mention social justice. An education with the ability to transform this mindset would hopefully prove to be more than a mere path to social mobility, rather being a tool of social emancipation that renders mobility moot.

(Hasini Lecamwasam is with 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.

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Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026

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Charming audiences in Switzerland as Suzi Flückiger, Sri Lanka’s own Suzi Croner is coming home… for a very special occasion.

The bubbly former frontline vocalist of 90s band Friends will take the stage at a popular venue in Colombo for Oktoberfest 2026.

Known in Europe for her country and classic hits, Suzi has remained a much-loved name back home. This will be a rare chance for local fans to see her live and celebrate the voice behind so many Friends memories.

Oktoberfest 2026 in Colombo promises an evening of live music, traditional Bavarian food and beer, colourful dirndls and lederhosen, folk dancing, and plenty of community cheer.

Suzi Croner (Flückiger)

Against this lively backdrop, Suzi will take the stage for a special solo set, featuring her own pre-recorded music. She performed at the event last year too, as a solo artiste, but a German band providing the music.

This year, however she says, it’s a different scene.

“The novel attraction will be the dancers from Germany — all girls, clad in German outfits,” Suzi said. She added that the event will also highlight the activities generally connected with Oktoberfest, which should generate a lot of fun and excitement for those who join her in Colombo next month.

Suzi has become a much-in-demand artiste in Europe, and has even performed Down Under, in Melbourne.

In Switzerland, where she has been based for the past 42 years, she continues to charm audiences with country and classic hits, performing at private events and community nights across Europe.

“My weekends are generally loaded with my work as a singer,” she said. “And I also play tennis three times a week, because I need to keep fit to entertain my audience in an active way.”

Her repertoire is made up mainly of Swiss, German and English songs.

And true to form, Suzi loves springing surprises.

“So watch out when you join me at Oktoberfest 2026, in Colombo!” she said.

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