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
Making ‘Sinhala Studies’ globally relevant
On 8 January 2026, I delivered a talk at an event at the University of Colombo marking the retirement of my longtime friend and former Professor of Sinhala, Ananda Tissa Kumara and his appointment as Emeritus Professor of Sinhala in that university. What I said has much to do with decolonising social sciences and humanities and the contributions countries like ours can make to the global discourses of knowledge in these broad disciplines. I have previously discussed these issues in this column, including in my essay, ‘Does Sri Lanka Contribute to the Global Intellectual Expansion of Social Sciences and Humanities?’ published on 29 October 2025 and ‘Can Asians Think? Towards Decolonising Social Sciences and Humanities’ published on 31 December 2025.
At the recent talk, I posed a question that relates directly to what I have raised earlier but drew from a specific type of knowledge scholars like Prof Ananda Tissa Kumara have produced over a lifetime about our cultural worlds. I do not refer to their published work on Sinhala, Pali and Sanskrit languages, their histories or grammars; instead, their writing on various aspects of Sinhala culture. Erudite scholars familiar with Tamil sources have written extensively on Tamil culture in this same manner, which I will not refer to here.
To elaborate, let me refer to a several essays written by Professor Tissa Kumara over the years in the Sinhala language: 1) Aspects of Sri Lankan town planning emerging from Sinhala Sandesha poetry; 2) Health practices emerging from inscriptions of the latter part of the Anuradhapura period; 3) Buddhist religious background described in inscriptions of the Kandyan period; 4) Notions of aesthetic appreciation emerging from Sigiri poetry; 5) Rituals related to Sinhala clinical procedures; 6) Customs linked to marriage taboos in Sinhala society; 7) Food habits of ancient and medieval Lankans; and 8) The decline of modern Buddhist education. All these essays by Prof. Tissa Kumara and many others like them written by others remain untranslated into English or any other global language that holds intellectual power. The only exceptions would be the handful of scholars who also wrote in English or some of their works happened to be translated into English, an example of the latter being Prof. M.B. Ariyapala’s classic, Society in Medieval Ceylon.
The question I raised during my lecture was, what does one do with this knowledge and whether it is not possible to use this kind of knowledge profitably for theory building, conceptual and methodological fine-tuning and other such essential work mostly in the domain of abstract thinking that is crucially needed for social sciences and humanities. But this is not an interest these scholars ever entertained. Except for those who wrote fictionalised accounts such as unsubstantiated stories on mythological characters like Rawana, many of these scholars amassed detailed information along with their sources. This focus on sources is evident even in the titles of many of Prof. Tissa Kumara’s work referred to earlier. Rather than focusing on theorising or theory-based interpretations, these scholars’ aim was to collect and present socio-cultural material that is inaccessible to most others in society including people like myself. Either we know very little of such material or are completely unaware of their existence. But they are important sources of our collective history indicating what we are where we have come from and need to be seen as a specific genre of research.
In this sense, people like Prof. Tissa Kumara and his predecessors are human encyclopedias. But the knowledge they produced, when situated in the context of global knowledge production in general, remains mostly as ‘raw’ information albeit crucial. The pertinent question now is what do we do with this information? They can, of course, remain as it is. My argument however is this knowledge can be a serious source for theory-building and constructing philosophy based on a deeper understanding of the histories of our country and of the region and how people in these areas have dealt with the world over time.
Most scholars in our country and elsewhere in the region believe that the theoretical and conceptual apparatuses needed for our thinking – clearly manifest in social sciences and humanities – must necessarily be imported from the ‘west.’ It is this backward assumption, but specifically in reference to Indian experiences on social theory, that Prathama Banerjee and her colleagues observe in the following words: “theory appears as a ready-made body of philosophical thought, produced in the West …” As they further note, in this situation, “the more theory-inclined among us simply pick the latest theory off-the-shelf and ‘apply’ it to our context” disregarding its provincial European or North American origin, because of the false belief “that “‘theory’ is by definition universal.” What this means is that like in India, in countries like ours too, the “relationship to theory is dependent, derivative, and often deeply alienated.”
In a somewhat similar critique in his 2000 book, Provincialising Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference Dipesh Chakrabarty points to the limitations of Western social sciences in explaining the historical experiences of political modernity in South Asia. He attempted to renew Western and particularly European thought “from and for the margins,” and bring in diverse histories from regions that were marginalised in global knowledge production into the mainstream discourse of knowledge. In effect, this means making histories of countries like ours relevant in knowledge production.
The erroneous and blind faith in the universality of theory is evident in our country too whether it is the unquestioned embrace of modernist theories and philosophies or their postmodern versions. The heroes in this situation generally remain old white men from Marx to Foucault and many in between. This indicates the kind of unhealthy dependence local discourses of theory owe to the ‘west’ without any attempt towards generating serious thinking on our own.
In his 2002 essay, ‘Dismal State of Social Sciences in Pakistan,’ Akbar Zaidi points out how Pakistani social scientists blindly apply imported “theoretical arguments and constructs to Pakistani conditions without questioning, debating or commenting on the theory itself.” Similarly, as I noted in my 2017 essay, ‘Reclaiming Social Sciences and Humanities: Notes from South Asia,’ Sri Lankan social sciences and humanities have “not seriously engaged in recent times with the dominant theoretical constructs that currently hold sway in the more academically dominant parts of the world.” Our scholars also have not offered any serious alternate constructions of their own to the world without going crudely nativistic or exclusivist.
This situation brings me back to the kind of knowledge that scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have produced. Philosophy, theory or concepts generally emerge from specific historical and temporal conditions. Therefore, they are difficult to universalise or generalise without serious consequences. This does not mean that some ideas would not have universal applicability with or without minor fine tuning. In general, however, such bodies of abstract knowledge should ideally be constructed with reference to the histories and contemporary socio-political circumstances
from where they emerge that may have applicability to other places with similar histories. This is what Banerjee and her colleagues proposed in their 2016 essay, ‘The Work of Theory: Thinking Across Traditions’. This is also what decolonial theorists such as Walter Mignolo, Enrique Dussel and Aníbal Quijano have referred to as ‘decolonizing Western epistemology’ and ‘building decolonial epistemologies.’
My sense is, scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have amassed at least some part of such knowledge that can be used for theory-building that has so far not been used for this purpose. Let me refer to two specific examples that have local relevance which will place my argument in context. Historian and political scientist Benedict Anderson argued in his influential 1983 book, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism that notions of nationalism led to the creation of nations or, as he calls them, ‘imagined communities.’ For him, unlike many others, European nation states emerged in response to the rise of ‘nationalism’ in the overseas European settlements, especially in the Western Hemisphere. But it was still a form of thinking that had Europe at its center.
Comparatively, we can consider Stephen Kemper’s 1991 book, The Presence of the Past: Chronicles, Politics, and Culture in Sinhala Life where the American anthropologist explored the ways in which Sinhala ‘national’ identity evolved over time along with a continual historical consciousness because of the existence of texts such as Mahawamsa. In other words, the Sinhala past manifests with social practices that have continued from the ancient past among which are chronicle-keeping, maintaining sacred places, and venerating heroes.
In this context, his argument is that Sinhala nationalism predates the rise of nationalist movements in Europe by over a thousand years, thereby challenging the hegemonic arguments such as those of Anderson, Ernest Gellner, Elie Kedourie and others who link nationalism as a modern phenomenon impacted by Europe in some way or another. Kemper was able to come to his interpretation by closely reading Lankan texts such as Mahawamsa and other Pali chronicles and more critically, theorizing what is in these texts. Such interpretable material is what has been presented by Prof. Tissa Kumara and others, sans the sing.
Similarly, local texts in Sinhala such as kadaim poth’ and vitti poth, which are basically narratives of local boundaries and descriptions of specific events written in the Dambadeniya and Kandyan periods are replete with crucial information. This includes local village and district boundaries, the different ethno-cultural groups that lived in and came to settle in specific places in these kingdoms, migratory events, wars and so on. These texts as well as European diplomatic dispatches and political reports from these times, particularly during the Kandyan period, refer to the cosmopolitanism in the Kandyan kingdom particularly its court, the military, town planning and more importantly the religious tolerance which even surprised the European observers and latter-day colonial rulers. Again, much of this comes from local sources or much less focused upon European dispatches of the time.
Scholars like Prof. Tissa Kumara have collected this kind of information as well as material from much older times and sources. What would the conceptual categories, such as ethnicity, nationalism, cosmopolitanism be like if they are reinterpreted or cast anew through these histories, rather than merely following their European and North American intellectual and historical slants which is the case at present? Among the questions we can ask are, whether these local idiosyncrasies resulted from Buddhism or local cultural practices we may not know much about at present but may exist in inscriptions, in ola leaf manuscripts or in other materials collected and presented by scholars such as Prof. Tissa Kumara.
For me, familiarizing ourselves with this under- and unused archive and employing them for theory-building as well as for fine-tuning what already exists is the main intellectual role we can play in taking our cultural knowledge to the world in a way that might make sense beyond the linguistic and socio-political borders of our country. Whether our universities and scholars are ready to attempt this without falling into the trap of crude nativisms, be satisfied with what has already been collected, but is untheorized or if they would rather lackadaisically remain shackled to ‘western’ epistemologies in the sense articulated by decolonial theorists remains to be seen.
Features
Extinction in isolation: Sri Lanka’s lizards at the climate crossroads
Climate change is no longer a distant or abstract threat to Sri Lanka’s biodiversity. It is already driving local extinctions — particularly among lizards trapped in geographically isolated habitats, where even small increases in temperature can mean the difference between survival and disappearance.
According to research by Buddhi Dayananda, Thilina Surasinghe and Suranjan Karunarathna, Sri Lanka’s narrowly distributed lizards are among the most vulnerable vertebrates in the country, with climate stress intensifying the impacts of habitat loss, fragmentation and naturally small population sizes.
Isolation Turns Warming into an Extinction Trap
Sri Lanka’s rugged topography and long geological isolation have produced extraordinary levels of reptile endemism. Many lizard species are confined to single mountains, forest patches or rock outcrops, existing nowhere else on Earth. While this isolation has driven evolution, it has also created conditions where climate change can rapidly trigger extinction.
“Lizards are especially sensitive to environmental temperature because their metabolism, activity patterns and reproduction depend directly on external conditions,” explains Suranjan Karunarathna, a leading herpetologist and co-author of the study. “When climatic thresholds are exceeded, geographically isolated species cannot shift their ranges. They are effectively trapped.”
The study highlights global projections indicating that nearly 40 percent of local lizard populations could disappear in coming decades, while up to one-fifth of all lizard species worldwide may face extinction by 2080 if current warming trends persist.
- Cnemaspis_gunawardanai (Adult Female), Pilikuttuwa, Gampaha District
- Cnemaspis_ingerorum (Adult Male), Sithulpauwa, Hambantota District
- Cnemaspis_hitihamii (Adult Female), Maragala, Monaragala District
- Cnemaspis_gunasekarai (Adult Male), Ritigala, Anuradapura District
- Cnemaspis_dissanayakai (Adult Male), Dimbulagala, Polonnaruwa District
- Cnemaspis_kandambyi (Adult Male), Meemure, Matale District
Heat Stress, Energy Loss and Reproductive Failure
Rising temperatures force lizards to spend more time in shelters to avoid lethal heat, reducing their foraging time and energy intake. Over time, this leads to chronic energy deficits that undermine growth and reproduction.
“When lizards forage less, they have less energy for breeding,” Karunarathna says. “This doesn’t always cause immediate mortality, but it slowly erodes populations.”
Repeated exposure to sub-lethal warming has been shown to increase embryonic mortality, reduce hatchling size, slow post-hatch growth and compromise body condition. In species with temperature-dependent sex determination, warming can skew sex ratios, threatening long-term population viability.
“These impacts often remain invisible until populations suddenly collapse,” Karunarathna warns.
Tropical Species with No Thermal Buffer
The research highlights that tropical lizards such as those in Sri Lanka are particularly vulnerable because they already live close to their physiological thermal limits. Unlike temperate species, they experience little seasonal temperature variation and therefore possess limited behavioural or evolutionary flexibility to cope with rapid warming.
“Even modest temperature increases can have severe consequences in tropical systems,” Karunarathna explains. “There is very little room for error.”
Climate change also alters habitat structure. Canopy thinning, tree mortality and changes in vegetation density increase ground-level temperatures and reduce the availability of shaded refuges, further exposing lizards to heat stress.
Narrow Ranges, Small Populations
Many Sri Lankan lizards exist as small, isolated populations restricted to narrow altitudinal bands or specific microhabitats. Once these habitats are degraded — through land-use change, quarrying, infrastructure development or climate-driven vegetation loss — entire global populations can vanish.
“Species confined to isolated hills and rock outcrops are especially at risk,” Karunarathna says. “Surrounding human-modified landscapes prevent movement to cooler or more suitable areas.”
Even protected areas offer no guarantee of survival if species occupy only small pockets within reserves. Localised disturbances or microclimatic changes can still result in extinction.
Climate Change Amplifies Human Pressures
The study emphasises that climate change will intensify existing human-driven threats, including habitat fragmentation, land-use change and environmental degradation. Together, these pressures create extinction cascades that disproportionately affect narrowly distributed species.
“Climate change acts as a force multiplier,” Karunarathna explains. “It worsens the impacts of every other threat lizards already face.”
Without targeted conservation action, many species may disappear before they are formally assessed or fully understood.
Science Must Shape Conservation Policy
Researchers stress the urgent need for conservation strategies that recognise micro-endemism and climate vulnerability. They call for stronger environmental impact assessments, climate-informed land-use planning and long-term monitoring of isolated populations.
“We cannot rely on broad conservation measures alone,” Karunarathna says. “Species that exist in a single location require site-specific protection.”
The researchers also highlight the importance of continued taxonomic and ecological research, warning that extinction may outpace scientific discovery.
A Vanishing Evolutionary Legacy
Sri Lanka’s lizards are not merely small reptiles hidden from view; they represent millions of years of unique evolutionary history. Their loss would be irreversible.
“Once these species disappear, they are gone forever,” Karunarathna says. “Climate change is moving faster than our conservation response, and isolation means there are no second chances.”
By Ifham Nizam ✍️
Features
Online work compatibility of education tablets
Enabling Education-to-Income Pathways through Dual-Use Devices
The deployment of tablets and Chromebook-based devices for emergency education following Cyclone Ditwah presents an opportunity that extends beyond short-term academic continuity. International experience demonstrates that the same category of devices—when properly governed and configured—can support safe, ethical, and productive online work, particularly for youth and displaced populations. This annex outlines the types of online jobs compatible with such devices, their technical limitations, and their strategic national value within Sri Lanka’s recovery and human capital development agenda.
Compatible Categories of Online Work
At the foundational level, entry-level digital jobs are widely accessible through Android tablets and Chromebook devices. These roles typically require basic digital literacy, language comprehension, and sustained attention rather than advanced computing power. Common examples include data tagging and data validation tasks, AI training activities such as text, image, or voice labelling, online surveys and structured research tasks, digital form filling, and basic transcription work. These activities are routinely hosted on Google task-based platforms, global AI crowdsourcing systems, and micro-task portals operated by international NGOs and UN agencies. Such models have been extensively utilised in countries including India, the Philippines, Kenya, and Nepal, particularly in post-disaster and low-income contexts.
At an intermediate level, freelance and gig-based work becomes viable, especially when Chromebook tablets such as the Lenovo Chromebook Duet or Acer Chromebook Tab are used with detachable keyboards. These devices are well suited for content writing and editing, Sinhala–Tamil–English translation work, social media management, Canva-based design assignments, and virtual assistant roles. Chromebooks excel in this domain because they provide full browser functionality, seamless integration with Google Docs and Sheets (including offline drafting and later (synchronization), reliable file upload capabilities, and stable video conferencing through platforms such as Google Meet or Zoom. Freelancers across Southeast Asia and Africa already rely heavily on Chromebook-class devices for such work, demonstrating their suitability in bandwidth- and power-constrained environments.
A third category involves remote employment and structured part-time work, which is also feasible on Chromebook tablets when paired with a keyboard and headset. These roles include online tutoring support, customer service through chat or email, research assistance, and entry-level digital bookkeeping. While such work requires a more consistent internet connection—often achievable through mobile hotspots—it does not demand high-end hardware. The combination of portability, long battery life, and browser-based platforms makes these devices adequate for such employment models.
Functional Capabilities and Limitations
It is important to clearly distinguish what these devices can and cannot reasonably support. Tablets and Chromebooks are highly effective for web-based jobs, Google Workspace-driven tasks, cloud platforms, online interviews conducted via Zoom or Google Meet, and the use of digital wallets and electronic payment systems. However, they are not designed for heavy video editing, advanced software development environments, or professional engineering and design tools such as AutoCAD. This limitation does not materially reduce their relevance, as global labour market data indicate that approximately 70–75 per cent of online work worldwide is browser-based and fully compatible with tablet-class devices.
Device Suitability for Dual Use
Among commonly deployed devices, the Chromebook Duet and Acer Chromebook Tab offer the strongest balance between learning and online work, making them the most effective all-round options. Android tablets such as the Samsung Galaxy Tab A8 or A9 and the Nokia T20 also perform reliably when supplemented with keyboards, with the latter offering particularly strong battery endurance. Budget-oriented devices such as the Xiaomi Redmi Pad remain suitable for learning and basic work tasks, though with some limitations in sustained productivity. Across all device types, battery efficiency remains a decisive advantage.
Power and Energy Considerations
In disaster-affected and power-scarce environments, tablets outperform conventional laptops. A battery life of 10–12 hours effectively supports a full day of online work or study. Offline drafting of documents with later synchronisation further reduces dependence on continuous connectivity. The use of solar chargers and power banks can extend operational capacity significantly, making these devices particularly suitable for temporary shelters and community learning hubs.
Payment and Income Feasibility in the Sri Lankan Context
From a financial inclusion perspective, these devices are fully compatible with commonly used payment systems. Platforms such as PayPal (within existing national constraints), Payoneer, Wise, LankaQR, local banking applications, and NGO stipend mechanisms are all accessible through Android and ChromeOS environments. Notably, many Sri Lankan freelancers already conduct income-generating activities entirely via mobile devices, confirming the practical feasibility of tablet-based earning.
Strategic National Value
The dual use of tablets for both education and income generation carries significant strategic value for Sri Lanka. It helps prevent long-term dependency by enabling families to rebuild livelihoods, creates structured earning pathways for youth, and transforms disaster relief interventions into resilience-building investments. This approach supports a human resource management–driven recovery model rather than a welfare-dependent one. It aligns directly with the outcomes sought by the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Labour and HRM reform initiatives, and broader national productivity and competitiveness goals.
Policy Positioning under the Vivonta / PPA Framework
Within the Vivonta/Proprietary Planters Alliance national response framework, it is recommended that these devices be formally positioned as “Learning + Livelihood Tablets.” This designation reflects their dual public value and supports a structured governance approach. Devices should be configured with dual profiles—Student and Worker—supplemented by basic digital job readiness modules, clear ethical guidance on online work, and safeguards against exploitation, particularly for vulnerable populations.
Performance Indicators
From a monitoring perspective, the expected reach of such an intervention is high, encompassing students, youth, and displaced adults. The anticipated impact is very high, as it directly enables the transition from education to income generation. Confidence in the approach is high due to extensive global precedent, while the required effort remains moderate, centering primarily on training, coordination, and platform curation rather than capital-intensive investment.
We respectfully invite the Open University of Sri Lanka, Derana, Sirasa, Rupavahini, DP Education, and Janith Wickramasinghe, National Online Job Coach, to join hands under a single national banner—
“Lighting the Dreams of Sri Lanka’s Emerging Leaders.”
by Lalin I De Silva, FIPM (SL) ✍️
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