Features
Happily, ever after?
By Tisaranee Gunasekara
“We hug our little destiny again.”
Seamus Heaney (Wintering Out)
2024 election season marked final act of the ‘Our Saviour II’ drama which premiered in November 2019. The NPP/JVP’s unprecedented victories would not have happened without Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s unprecedented presidential record, turning a lower-middle income country to a bankrupt one in less than three years.
Disenchantment is a radical thing.
On July 5, 2022, a 60-year-old man died in a petrol queue in Borella. And the Gota-go-gama protesters gave Gotabaya Rajapaksa three days to resign from the presidency.
On July 8, thousands of university students marched to the Galle Face Green in a massive procession, resisting barrages of tear gas and water cannon. People lined the streets cheering them on. “We are suffering a lot,” one woman cried. “These children should be protected by the gods. We are trying to correct a wrong we did… We are coming tomorrow.”
And come they did. On July 9, 2022, nearly a million Lankans poured into Colombo and drove out Gotabaya Rajapaksa. Another act unprecedented not only in modern times but in our entire 2+millennia history. Many a Lankan monarch got deposed, often violently, but there is no record of a king being evicted via a popular rebellion. There were no Cromwells in this island, let alone Robespierres.
“We are trying to correct a wrong we did,” was a constant refrain during the three Aragalaya months. Sobered by brutal reality, most of the 6.3 million Lankans who voted for Gotabaya Rajapaksa in 2019 had turned against their once-adored saviour.
The NPP/JVP was the main beneficiary of this disillusionment. According to the IHP’s first public opinion tracker, published in August 2022, 41% of Lankans would vote for Anura Kumara Dissanayake in a presidential election and 42% it said for the NPP in a parliamentary election. Neither Mr. Dissanayake nor the NPP/JVP had played a role in the Aragalaya – unlike the breakaway FSP which provided the protest movement with thousands of activists and its most recognisable spokesperson, Wasantha Mudalige.
But the FSP was too unreconstructed to be electable, even in the aftermath of an unprecedented crisis. The NPP/JVP on the other hand had a more moderate, and therefore more electable, image. Moreover, it had managed to position itself as the antipode to the Rajapaksas. The SJB too contested for that position, but embraced too many former Rajapaksa-enablers (from old-timers like Dulles Allahapperuma and GL Peiris to Viyath Maga types like Charitha Herath) to carry credibility. The NPP/JVP had prudently closed its doors to any politician closely associated with the Rajapaksas. They also promised to bring the Rajapaksas to justice, another popular promise amongst one-time Rajapaksa voters who felt betrayed and dreamt of vengeance.
So now the Rajapaksas are reduced to 3% and the voters have given the NP/JVP a governance magic wand. The Dissanayake government has enough power to deliver all its many promises – a new constitution downwards. 1977 was the last an administration had a hand so free, for good or ill. Almost half-a-century away, we still live in the country JR Jayewardene remade, both for better and for worse. The NPP/JVP has a similar opportunity to remould Sri Lanka. How they use that opportunity could determine Sri Lanka’s fate not only in the next five years but for decades to come.
Oppositional erosion
The 2024 parliamentary election was a kind of a referendum on the less than two-month tenure of Anura Kumara Dissanayake. The opposition understood this fact correctly, which was why it honed on malaises such as price hikes and shortages in rice and coconuts.
But that tactic failed. At the parliamentary election, the NPP/JVP managed to increase its vote by 1.23 million; 22%. Normally, when presidential and parliamentary elections are held in close proximity, the winner of the presidency gains parliamentary power as well, but with a reduced vote-haul. In 2010, Mahinda Rajapaksa’s UPFA swept the parliamentary election with 60% of the vote but its vote count decreased by a massive 1.15million. In 2020, the Rajapaksa SLPP won the parliamentary election with 59% of the vote, but its vote count decreased by 100,000. The NPP/JVP shattered this normal.
The IHP published two polls after the presidential election. One showed a surge in the popularity ratings of President Dissanayake and Prime Minister Amarasuriya, at 58% and 55% respectively. The other showed a massive turnaround in public satisfaction about the new direction of the country – from 16% just before the presidential election to 46% just after.
The giant leap in the NPP/JVP vote between September and November is indicative of a sense of satisfaction with its governance performance. But the even greater leap in the NPP/JVP vote share, from 43% in September to 62% in November, was caused primarily by the opposition’s galloping unpopularity. As many as 1.1million Lankans who voted in the presidential election (doubtless for Sajith Premadasa and Ranil Wickremesinghe) didn’t vote in the parliamentary election. It was this abstention which gave a two-thirds victory to the NPP/JVP. Without that, the NPP/JVP would have scored only a simple majority, with 52% of the vote.
Sajith Premadasa’s SJB lost 3.4 million votes and Ranil Wickremesinghe’s NDF lost 1.7 million votes – 78% and 75% respectively – in under two months. Both fielded candidates epitomising the worst of the past; by doing so both aligned with a political culture synonymous with corruption, privilege, and impunity. The ongoing infantile squabble for the opposition’s meagre haul of national seats cannot but worsen matters. The SJB and the UNP – and their respective leaders – obviously don’t understand how distasteful, even unsavoury, their conduct looks to ordinary people. If the two parties continue in this vein, their vote count will decrease even more drastically at the upcoming local government and provincial council elections.
In 2014, the JVP replaced Somawansa Amarasinghe with Anura Kumara Dissanayake as party leader. Had that change not happened, had Mr. Amarasinghe clung to party leadership, there would have been no NPP, and no march to power in 2024. The JVP was able to make that change because it was not – at least post-Wijeweera – a leader-centric party. Unfortunately, under Ranil Wickremesinghe the UNP has become a leader-centric party; and its offshoot SJB has that fault in its very genes. The tragic fate of the UNP, reduced from being the single largest party to a mere 4% of electoral support, is the fate that awaits the SJB, not so far ahead.
Politics, like nature, abhors a vacuum. Close to half of Lankan voters still remain on the non/anti-NPP/JVP side of the divide. If the relatively rational, moderate, and non-racist UNP and SJB dwindle into irrelevance, who or what will replace them? Especially if the NPP/JVP fails to satisfy the veritable sky of expectations deposited on its shoulders; and disenchantment, radical in consequences, sets in?
What fails to evolve sinks into extinction. That Darwinian discovery is true for political parties as well. Even with ‘Crisis Gotabaya’, the JVP would not have won if it didn’t change its leader or create the NPP. For a party like the JVP, such changes would not have come easily, yet it managed – and prevailed. Hopefully, Ranil Wickremesinghe and Sajith Premadasa would learn from the JVP. The best they can do for themselves and the country is to resign from their leadership positions, thereby removing the actual obstacles to the reunification of the UNP and the SJB. If they fail to act with maturity and responsibility, the next swing in the pendulum will bring to power a new generation of Rajapaksas, or something even worse.
Future Uncertain
The most remarkable of the NPP/JVP’s achievements in the parliamentary election was not its two-thirds majority, but the plural, Lankan nature of its mandate. In another unprecedented development, it prevailed in the Sinhala South, the Tamil North, the Muslim East and the Malayaga Tamil Upcountry simultaneously. Its vote gains in the North and the East were massive: 65% in Jaffna; 46% in Vanni; 26% in Ampara; 30% in Batticaloa; and 43% in Trinco. Economics and caste would have been factors in this voter-shift, as well as the inability of traditional Tamil politicians to deliver much on the economic or political front. The opening of the Palaly-Achchuveli main road, the promise to release all political prisoners and to return all military-occupied lands (made during the Jaffna rally) would have generated hope of a post-racial Sri Lanka in which all communities would be treated alike.
The voters don’t expect miracles. But if the government fails to deliver or delivers to the wrong people – such as not enough reduction in electricity prices for low-end consumers while substantial tax cuts for the rich or professionals, disenchantment will set in. Given the state of the opposition, the danger of the anti-government sentiment taking an anti-Tamil or anti-Muslim channel is considerable.
Already the Rajapaksas are readying for that future, as is evident from Namal Rajapaksa’s social media comment on the release of several acres of private land in Jaffna to original owners by the army after 30 years of occupation. Mr. Rajapaksa makes use of standard code-words: national security, terrorism etc. (https://x.com/rajapaksanamal/status/1859199555759227218?s=46 ) For now, the response would be limited to toxic words. Once the shine wears off the new government, the time for deeds would come.
Anti-Tamil or anti-Muslim; one or the other.
Soon after the US issued its travel advisory about an ‘impending attack on Israeli tourists’ in Arugam Bay, media reports mentioned a ‘demonstration by locals’ in support of Israeli tourists. The participants carried a host of Israeli flags. Since Israeli flags cannot be a common commodity in Arugam Bay, one wonders where they came from and whether the demonstration was organised by non-local elements, interested in creating a cat-among-pigeons type of situation in Arugam Bay.
The danger of Arugam Bay and can be best illustrated via a de tour – the recent riots in Amsterdam. The story began with the match between Israel’s Maccabi-Tel Aviv team and the Netherland’s AFC Ajax team. Maccabi fans arrived in Amsterdam days before the match, and unlike the usual sports-tourists brought the Gaza war with them. For two days, hundreds of them roamed the city, tearing down Palestinian flags, destroying a taxi belonging to a Dutch citizen of Arab origin, and chanting such racist slogans as ‘Victory to the IDF. F….k the Arabs’. During the match, they interrupted the two-minute silence for Valencia flood victims and chanted ‘There are no schools in Gaza, (because) there are no kids’, a reference to tens of thousands of children murdered by Israeli forces.
Having lost the match, Maccabi fans went out to the streets attacking passers-by and the police. “They took the metal pipes from this construction site and started throwing them at people and police vans,” reported Bender, Amsterdam’s teen You Tube reporter. “They have kids, I think not even twelve years old, walking around with sticks on the front. And they are looking for a fight… It looks like they have these kids, barely 1.5 meters tall, who just attacked these undercover police officers with a stick” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySHIOYyJ95A&t=21s). In retaliation, Ajax fans, made up of Amsterdam residents of Arab and Dutch origin, unleashed their own brand of violence. Though the counter-violence contained traces of anti-Semitism, it was not a pogrom as Bibi Netanyahu and Joe Biden rushed to proclaim. The Amsterdam mayor who parroted the charge later backtracked, and even admitted the role played by Maccabi fans in igniting the situation (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4H_ozYgHpoM).
From Amsterdam to Arugam Bay. Commenting on the conduct of Maccabi fans in Amsterdam, Yuval Gal, a member of the Dutch Jewish anti-Zionist collective Erev Rav said, “We know many of them are soldiers and ex-soldiers in Gaza right now. I also tried to explain this to the police. I said, ‘Look, if somebody just came back from Gaza, and just came back from killing a lot of people, you don’t expect them to act normally in your city’” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moPFJD3L16k).
And in faraway Arugam Bay, there are at least at least two billboards commemorating IDF members killed in the war against Gaza. What if at some point an angry local objected? We know how easily verbal violence can descend into physical violence. All context would be lost; Bibi Netanyahu and Donald Trump would be screaming ‘pogrom’ and government would be forced to crack down on its own citizens.
Why are some Israeli tourists putting up structures to honour their war-dead in someone else’s country? Perhaps the answer lies in the structure at the heart of the recent terror scare. Chabad House is a religio-political structure belonging to the Chabad-Lubavitch Movement, an ultra-Orthodox Hasidic which denies Palestinian statehood and Palestinian humanity. Unlike most orthodox Jews, its members serve in the Israel army and are enthusiastic participants of the current genocidal war in Gaza. Allowing a Chabad House belonging to a right wing Israeli religious sect in Muslim majority Arugam Bay is as politically insane as allowing Bodu Bala Sena to construct a ‘Sinhalaramaya’ (Sinhala Temple) in Jaffna town.
If the Chabad-Lubavitch Movement is permitted a legal footprint in the East, the next step may well be a tactical alliance between their operatives and Sinhala hardliners dreaming of regaining a slice of power via Muslim-phobia. When the US travel advisory was issued, Udaya Gammanpila did try to run with the issue, draping himself metaphorically in the Israeli-flag, but in the current non-extremist political climate his attempt did not work. The story can have a different ending once government’s popularity starts to wane, especially if the democratic opposition’s decline continues. Since Gotabaya Rajapaksa epitomised ethno-religious racism, the anti-Gotabaya wave was non-racist. Since the new government is non-racist, the reaction to it is more likely to be racist than not.
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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