Features
A wonderful beginning to a new life
THE POLICE TRAINING SCHOOL
by Senior Retired DIG Edward Gunawardene
In the year 1957 I sat two public examinations conducted by the Public Service Commission, the constitutionally created independent body for recruitment to the Public Service. My father gladly gave me the examination fee of Rs. 250/= to apply for the Ceylon Civil Service examination. But it was with reluctance that he gave me Rs. 150/= to sit the examination for the selection of Assistant Superintendents of Police.
Finding a job then did not appear to be a problem. By the time the results of the Police examination were announced I had received several letters of appointment to various jobs at staff level. The three that I remember are: Assistant Assessor of Income Tax, Assistant Superintendent of Surveys (Geological Survey) and Assistant Superintendent Government Stores.
However, with my coming first in the Police examination by ever 100 marks I had little choice. Everybody, especially my brothers, said “Take it”. The man I had beaten to second place ‘Brute’ Mahendran was a triple international having represented Ceylon in Athletics, Rugger and Boxing. I had only taken part in games. At the interview ‘Brute’ and I had been asked the same question, “Can you tell us where the game of Rugby originated?” The man who was playing rugger for Ceylon was not able to answer.
The Board of Interview appointed by the Public Service Commission for the Police examination was chaired by Gunasena de Zoysa, Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Defence and External Affairs. The Minister was the Prime Minister himself, S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike. The other members of the Board were Brigadier Anton Muttucumaru, the Army Commander, and C.C. Dissanayake, DIG, who was then acting as IGP.
When I walked in dressed in a white satin drill suit with the words ‘good morning’ in my mouth, the entire board looked at me. They were all smiles. Perhaps they were amused at this small but confident looking youngster. As soon as I sat down the Chairman spoke, “you have an excellent degree, a geography second”. Mr. Dissanayake looked at me and said, “I find that you have played rugger at Peradeniya, but you have not played rugger for your school.”
“St. Josephs is not a rugger playing school. Soccer is their game”, interjected the Army Commander who was an old Josephian.
After a short pause Dissanayake asked me where the game had originated. I replied that it began at Rugby, the famous British grammar school during a game of soccer. “What else do you know about this school?” was his next question. I then mentioned the name of Arnold, the famous principal, and explained to the Board that he is still remembered as a stern disciplinarian. That was the end of the interview. The final results showed that I had received 350 out of 400 marks.
It was on February 1, 1958 that I entered the Police Training School. Mahendran and David, the other two Probationary ASPs, accompanied me from Colombo. We were picked up at the Kalutara railway station by my friend Nehru Goonetillake and driven to the Training School. At that time Nehru had received his LLB degree from Peradeniya and was following lectures at the Law College in Colombo. His father P.F.A. Goonetilleke was a leading citizen of Kalutara. He was not only the Crown Proctor but also the President of the Kalutara Bodhi Trust. Over 50 years later, Nehru at the time of his premature death was not only a leading President’s Counsel but the President of the Kalutara Bodhi Trust.
As we stopped at the Training School gate a constable approached the car. When I told him that we were the new ASPs, he stood to attention and saluted smartly and directed us to a place called the Charge Room. As the three of us entered this room an officer shouted, “Charge Room, Attention!” Simultaneously, a young constable escorted us to an open area with seats of cement slabs where there were several persons in informal dress as well as police uniforms.
The most impressive of the lot was a handsome, middle aged, blue eyed gentlemen dressed in a white shirt and blue shorts. Smoking a pipe he looked very relaxed. “Here come the new Probs”, he told the others there. By ‘Probs’ he meant Probationary ASPs. He then walked up to the three of us and warmly shook our hands saying “Welcome to the Police, Gentlemen”. He introduced himself as Fred Brohier, Assistant Director of Training. He apologized for the absence of the Director, Stanley Senanayake who was attending the funeral of his sister, Mrs. Wanasundera.
With Brohier were three other ASPs Murugesupillai, Terry Wijesinghe and Van den Driesen. They were all introduced to us. Whilst these introductions and pleasantries were taking place there was also chatter behind. An oldish man in shorts was heard to remark (referring to me) “the short fellow looks a tough nut.” I later came to know that he was Inspector Suraweera of Monte Cristo fame. The story current at the time was that Suraweera had taken an armed police party to Monte Cristo estate to quell a riot; and the man leading the mob had dared to advance towards the police raising his sarong and exposing his person. Suraweera himself had opened fire, with a shot gun blasting the genitals of the mob leader! The latter had not succumbed to his injuries. The labour unrest on the estate ceased; and Suraweera had been commended by Sir Richard Aluvihare who was the IGP then.
Soon the Asst. Director commanded a mustacheod uniformed officer, “Major, take them round on a whirlwind tour of the school.” Boarding a hood less jeep we set off. “I am Sergeant Major Nallawansa. You see, like the IGP there is only one such officer in the police,” was how he introduced himself. He then suggested that we could go to our lodgings first, the SSM (Senior Staff Mess), do a change etc. before doing the full round of the school.
The SSM had many rooms including a spacious dining room and lobby with a regulation size billiard table. Most of the rooms were occupied by a new batch of trainee Sub-Inspectors of Police. A few rooms were also occupied by staffers. Alex Abeysekera and Terry Amarasekera were two of them. The three of us were allocated rooms in different areas of the building. After lunch we were met by Inspector Ekanayake, the Chief Lecturer. He explained to us the daily routine of training. For three young men just out of University it was a rigid program indeed. However before long we began to enjoy the healthy mix of physical exercises, parades, lectures on law, criminal investigation, Police role in the maintenance of public order etc. More than even Mahendran and David, I took a special liking to the riding of motor cycles and horses. A probationary ASP had to be competent in the riding horses for confirmation in the rank of ASP.
On my second day at the Police Training School (PTS) Feb. 2, 1958, whilst taking part in Physical Training exercises dressed in blue shorts and white shirts, my colleagues and I were intrigued to see a handsome gentleman dressed in riding trousers and polo shirt riding a chestnut coloured horse on the perimeter of the parade ground. Sub-Inspector Somapala who was the P.T. instructor was quick to announce to us that the gentleman on horseback was the Director, Stanley Senanayake. That moment I thought that I had selected a great job.
That same evening at about 7′ O’Clock the three of us were picked up from our lodgings and driven to the Director’s residence for dinner. As we entered the verandah we were warmly greeted by Stanley Senanayake and his charming wife, Maya. From the moment we met this couple I realized that life in the police will be pleasant and rewarding. We were indeed fortunate that Stanley and Maya were at the helm during our stint at the Training School.
Stanley had been an outstanding student at the University, and had chosen to join the Police as an ASP prior to graduation. Maya was an honours graduate. She was the daughter of P. de S. Kularatne. Even before joining the Police, Stanley had earned recognition as a handsome sportsman and an accomplished horseman. In fact in 1948 during the independence celebrations I had seen him and Sydney de Zoysa act as Dutugemunu and Elara in that epic Pageant of Lanka enacted at the Colombo racecourse.
Others present at this dinner were Fred Brohier, Terry Wijesinghe, Murugesupillai and their wives. From the following morning for more than a week continuously we were shuttling to Colombo and back with the Asst. Director, Fred Brohier. He had to get our uniforms ready as a matter of priority. Orders for the tailoring of uniforms were placed at Millers, Fort. This up-market department store, owned and managed by Englishmen, was the traditional uniform maker for senior Police officers. Several types of uniforms had to be turned out:
Ceremonial White Uniform consisting of tunic, long trousers and cross-belt. A white pith helmet with a spike and large silver badge and a ceremonial sword accompanied this uniform.
Ceremonial Riding Uniform The difference was that instead of white trousers dark blue serge pantaloons and riding boots with ceremonial spurs were worn.
No. I Khaki Uniform – White shirt with black tie, khaki long trousers, tunic coat and Sam Browne belt.
The Normal Working Uniform consisted of a light khaki tunic and long trousers.
The riding boots had to be specially made. This was an expert job undertaken by a boot maker on Hospital Street in Fort.
The Headgear – The white pith helmet, braided peak cap and a felt slouch hat with a broad puggaree; the crossbelt and Sam Browne belt; and insignia, epaulets, nickel plated buttons and officer’s baton had to be obtained from the Inspector-General’s stores at Police Headquarters.
After equipping the three young ASPS with their uniforms, Brohier had to perform a traditional task of a different but pleasant nature. This was by appointment to introduce the three of us to the Governor General, Prime Minister, the Chief Justice, the Army Commander and the IGP. Of all these meetings the meeting with the Prime Minister, SWRD Bandranaike, turned out to be the most informal.
He was completely relaxed. He asked only one question from each of us, “Who is your father? What is he doing?” He was pleased at our frank and forthright replies. When I told him that my father was the Assistant Manager of the Fountain Cafe, his immediate response was, “I am sure, I’ve met him”. Fountain Cafe was Colombo’s leading restaurant. My father who had been there since its inception, had befriended even Caldecott, Sir Geoffrey Layton and Oliver Goonetillake. As a schoolboy I have seen leading jockeys Fordyce and Cook talking to him. Bandaranaike was certainly more pleased at meeting and conversing with three young graduates of the University of Ceylon rather than three new ASPs.
I was to meet this great man twice in 1959 before his cruel assassination in September the same year. Whilst attached to Colombo Division for practical training I once accompanied the Supdt. of Police Colombo, H.K. Van den Driesen to the Prime Minister’s Office. Van den Driesen had to brief the Prime Minister on the labour unrest that was prevalent in the Port at the time. My final meeting with him was when he had to officially open the new Kelani bridge. I was the only Senior Officer present. It was not a grand show. Mr. Premaratne, the Director of Public Works was present with a few officials together with the workers who had taken part in the construction. The Prime Minister had to cut a ribbon that had been strung across the bridge. Mr. Premaratne received him with a sheaf of betel while another official offered him a pair of scissors on a silver tray. The Prime Minister took the scissors, paused a while and handed them over to one of the workers to do the honours. Once the ribbon was cut, the Prime Minister himself led the applause. At the time of his assassination I was the ASP, Batticaloa.
(Continued next week)
Features
The Digital Underground
Illegal Foreign Exchange, Undiyal, Hawala and Money Laundering, A Four-Part Investigative Series
Forex Platforms, Cryptocurrency, AI and the New Financial Battlefield
THE INVISIBLE FINANCIAL EMPIRE – PART III
The Boyfriend Who Was Never Real
Priya, a 34-year-old professional in Colombo, met “David” on LinkedIn. He claimed to work in fintech in Singapore. For six weeks they exchanged messages daily, about work, about life, about a recent trip he had taken to the Maldives. Eventually, the conversation turned, gently and naturally, to money.
“I’ve been trading on this platform, let me show you,” he said, sharing a screenshot of a sleek trading dashboard showing consistent, impressive returns.
Priya invested a small amount first, $500. Within days, her dashboard showed it had grown to $650. She withdrew $100 successfully, just to test it. It worked. Encouraged, she invested more. Then more. Over two months, she transferred a total of $42,000 into the platform.
When she tried to withdraw her full balance, the platform demanded a “regulatory release fee” of $8,000 before funds could be unlocked. She paid it. Then another fee appeared. Then the platform stopped responding altogether. “David” vanished. The trading dashboard, the customer support chat, the entire brokerage, all of it had never been real.
This is what investigators now call “pig butchering”, and, in 2026, the most disturbing development is not the scam itself, which has existed for years, but what now powers it: artificial intelligence has industrialised the entire operation.
From Manual Fraud to Machine-Generated Deception
For most of the past decade, romance-and-investment scams, like the one that targeted Priya, required enormous manual labour. Scam operations, many of them staffed by trafficked workers held against their will in compounds across Myanmar, Cambodia, and Laos, needed real humans to build relationships with victims over weeks, manage fake trading platforms, and respond convincingly to questions.
That labour-intensive model has now been substantially automated. According to financial-crime researchers tracking this shift through 2026, threat actors are standing up entire AI-generated “brokerage” experiences end-to-end, complete with KYC onboarding, branded customer-service chat, animated portfolio dashboards, and falsified live market data feeds, and operating them at industrial scale against multiple victims simultaneously. Generative-AI relationship managers now front the WhatsApp and Telegram conversations that once required real human scammers. AI-cloned regulator letters are generated on demand to justify the fake “release fees” that drain victims a final time before the platform disappears.
What has changed is not the deception itself, it is the production economics. The cost of running a credible synthetic brokerage against one additional victim has collapsed, meaning a single criminal network can now run hundreds of “Davids” simultaneously, each one indistinguishable from a genuine fintech professional until it is too late. (Figure 01)

Sri Lanka: From Victim Pool to Operating Base
Sri Lanka’s relationship to this global scam economy has shifted in an alarming direction over the past two years. The country is no longer only a source of victims, it has become an operating base for the criminal networks themselves.
In April, 2026, Sri Lankan police raided a five-star hotel property, in Ambakandavila, and arrested 150 individuals, including 133 Chinese nationals, 13 Vietnamese nationals, and one Malaysian national, allegedly running a cyber fraud centre with links to international criminal syndicates, based in Myanmar and Cambodia. Investigators say the operation followed a now-familiar regional pattern: recruiters advertise “online marketing” or “data entry” jobs on social media to lure foreign workers to Sri Lanka, confiscate their passports on arrival, and force them to operate scam campaigns under threat.
The Central Bank of Sri Lanka has formally flagged pig-butchering scams as a “developing threat,” warning that foreign scam networks are increasingly targeting overseas nationals through scam farms operating from Sri Lankan soil. A 2026 United Nations report estimated that at least 300,000 people have been trafficked into scam centres across Southeast Asia.
This is not an abstract international problem. It is unfolding in hotels and rented properties across the country, exploiting the same infrastructure, high-speed internet, affordable accommodation, accessible tourist visas, that Sri Lanka has built to attract legitimate digital businesses and tourists.
Where the Money Actually Goes: The Stablecoin Pipeline
Behind every successful pig-butchering scam sits a laundering pipeline that has been transformed almost as dramatically as the scams themselves, and the transformation has a single dominant feature: stablecoins.
According to the Financial Action Task Force’s March 2026, report, drawing on analysis from blockchain intelligence firms Chainalysis and TRM Labs, stablecoins accounted for 84% of the USD 154 billion in illicit virtual asset transaction volume recorded in 2025, the highest share ever observed, and a dramatic jump from just 15% only a few years earlier. TRM Labs separately found that illicit entities received USD 141 billion in stablecoins, in 2025 alone, the highest level observed in five years. (See Table 01)

The scale of state-level abuse is striking. A Russian sanctions-evasion network built around the ruble-pegged stablecoin A7A5 processed more than USD 72 billion in total volume in 2025.
Fighting Fire with Fire: AI on the Defensive Side
The same artificial intelligence reshaping financial crime is also, out of necessity, reshaping the defence against it. Legacy anti-money laundering systems, built on static, rule-based thresholds, have proven badly outmatched by AI-generated fraud operating at machine speed. Research cited by compliance technology analysts suggests that between 90% and 95% of alerts generated by legacy AML systems are false positives, consuming enormous investigator time while genuinely suspicious activity slips through.
This is not a frictionless transition. AI models are notoriously difficult to explain to regulators and examiners in the way traditional rule-based systems are. The practical compromise emerging across the industry is a hybrid model: AI handles the initial scoring and prioritisation of risk, while documented rule-based logic still governs the final decision that must be defensible to a regulator.
The Regulatory Response: Catching Up to the Digital Frontier
Regulators worldwide have begun moving to close the most dangerous gaps exposed by this digital transformation of financial crime. (See Table 02)

What Comes Next
We have now traced this investigation from the centuries-old mechanics of Hawala and Undiyal, through the three-stage architecture that turns criminal proceeds into apparently legitimate wealth, to the AI-generated frontier of digital financial crime reshaping all of it at machine speed.
In our concluding instalment, Part IV: “Sri Lanka at the Crossroads: Economic Consequences, Organised Crime and the Road Ahead”, we bring this series home. We examine precisely what all of this costs Sri Lanka in hard economic terms: lost remittances, exchange rate pressure, tax revenue forgone, and the 2026 FATF evaluation that will determine whether the country’s institutions can demonstrate, with evidence rather than legislation alone, that they are equal to this challenge. We close with a practical policy roadmap.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe.
Views expressed in this article are personal.)
Features
‘There are no private universities in Sri Lanka’ – some considerations for higher education reform
Academics involved in education policy like to say that there is no such thing as a private university in Sri Lanka. The only ‘universities’ in the country are state universities; anything else offering degrees is a private higher education institution (HEI). This position is technically accurate. Yet, in the discourse and imagination of the public, private universities are very real – people teach in them, students register in them, families pay fees, and such degree holders enter job markets in Sri Lanka and outside.
For decades, activists concerned for public higher education have ignored or resisted looking at private HEIs, as if such scrutiny would taint them. Others have worked in both types of institutions, carrying practices from each to the other. The apex body governing state universities, the UGC, has, meanwhile, ignored the concept of conflict of interest and appointed individuals in private higher education in committees and leadership positions. It is unsurprising then that some of the ideologies informing private higher education appear in reform agendas in the state sector.
This is a good time then to consider the varying types of private HEIs around us, and to take a look at some of the issues within them in the hope that higher education reform agendas will include private, as well as state higher education.
What is a ‘private university’?
First, some clarifications. In the public imaginary, a ‘private university’ is typically an institution that provides a foreign or local degree for which the student makes a payment. But this broad classification encompasses a host of diverse institutions and types of degrees which I detail below.
The Non-State Higher Education Division (NSHE) of the Ministry of Education has recognised 295 degrees by 32 institutions. Most of these are private companies and include a handful of established, well-known private HEIs that are ‘university like’. The degrees are local degrees conferred by the institutions accredited by the NSHE Division. While private HEIs conferring local degrees must be accredited by the NSHE Division, there appears to be no legal consequence for not doing so. In addition, there are several permutations of the private degree that miss the net of this Division and the Standing Committee on Accreditation and Quality Assurance (SCAQA) that assists this Division.
For one, degrees conferred by foreign universities offered, via these same private HEIs, are not vetted by the NSHE Division. Secondly, there is a growing plethora of private HEIs which have either no physical presence locally or only a dubious presence. The University Grants Commission has notified the public, through their website, that foreign universities listed in the Commonwealth Universities Yearbook and the World Higher Education Database are recognised, but refrained from giving any other details – which degrees? Offered by what modes? These details are not known. Some of the foreign universities in the lists may be legitimate entities in their own land but the degrees conferred locally, in their name, may not adhere to curriculum or teaching specifications of the NSHE Division or the UGC.
Another troubling phenomenon is the ‘top up degree’, which appears to work on the same principle as that of a pre-paid mobile connection: if I have a Diploma or an HND of a sort, I am eligible to complete a course of study which provides me with a degree, usually from a foreign university. The idea that someone who does not initially qualify for a degree programme should be able to work their way towards one is a progressive notion. This is the concept that open and distance learning (ODL) was based on initially, but which is now sadly exploited. ODL models are expected to provide opportunity for learning for those who may be excluded from traditional learning institutions. In Sri Lanka, however, we have seen ODL become a marketplace offering easy to obtain, for-fee qualifications by institutions with little commitment to superior teaching and learning.
Finally, a perusal of the many types of private HEIs and their varied degrees bring to mind another question – how should the private degrees, provided by state institutions (that are not educational institutions), be regulated? Who should do so?
All of these create a host of problems for the public – for hopeful students and parents and trusting employers. For the higher education sector, recruitment of academic staff, too, has become difficult due to this plethora of ambiguous higher education qualifications, as I discussed in a previous Kuppi article (‘Recruiting academics to state universities’).
Some issues in private HEIs – a bellwether for change in state universities
In this second part of this article, I will discuss some aspects of work in private HEIs – albeit the more established institutions – given that such issues may appear in reform agendas in future.
Across state universities, all permanent staff of a specific category are paid according to the same criteria. The picture is not so clear when it comes to private HEIs since they are different entities legally, typically companies. Private HEIs have salary scales and financial incentives that are different to each other. The more established private HEIs reportedly have attractive renumeration packages, possibly a reason for academics of state universities migrating eagerly to such institutions during sabbatical years and on retirement. This may not of course be the case with other less established, or improperly registered HEIs of which we know little. Academic staff of these more accepted private HEIs seem to value the high financial remuneration they receive (in comparison to state universities) as something that makes their work rewarding.
Attractive remuneration is important to sustain the good life and is at times seen as the institution’s way of encouraging good work. Yet, this has implications for the future of the institution: to continue to deliver on promised financial packages, institutions must continue to have large profit margins. One strategy has been to enroll multiple cohorts of students per year, even up to three or four intakes per year. This can result in exploitative work conditions, since staff must cater to all these cohorts in that same year. If there is inadequate staff, employees are further burdened. On the other hand, if there is a sudden drop in enrolments (degrees can go out of fashion) unexpected layoffs occur. Similar to other sectors that employ short-term contract staff – including state universities – in private HEIs, too, individual teachers, who are on short term contracts that need regular renewal, can feel pressured to work under difficult or exploitative conditions.
At the same time, even in the more established private HEIs, work norms differ from those of state universities in that they include promotional work that keeps the institution’s name in the eye of the public. The Marketing (or similarly named) unit comes up in conversations as one of the most important departments. It appears to weigh in on decision-making related to the number of staff, the amount of re-sits per exams, and other pedagogically important matters. This is a worrying example of how financial rationales interfere with pedagogically or academically sound processes, resulting in problematic results in the classroom. On the plus side, junior colleagues, who had experience in both state and private HEIs, also felt that they faced less harassment in private HEIs – primarily due to the private HEIs ability to take swift action in reported cases of harassment. This is a real indictment on state institutions and their reluctance to address chronic issues of harassment in our universities.
Yet, while we hear much about problems in state universities, we hardly hear of problems that staff in private HEIs face. One rationale for a lack of public expressions by staff is that expressions of discontent might lead to trouble given the importance of reputation for private HEIs. The worry about reputational damage is a growing concern in state universities, too, as evidenced by social media policies and internal conversations on reputational damage, consequent to negative publicity. Institutional worries of reputational damage are harmful in the long run since these impact not only freedom of expression by student and staff, but also research that is possible in and about the education sector.
Some thoughts at the end…
A close look at the private higher education sector is important given its strong presence in the country. Impending reform needs to regulate this diverse array of higher education offerings in the private sector, as well as the state institutions that offer privately-funded options of higher education (a topic for a separate Kuppi on its own). It is time we carefully considered how to build a whole system of higher education out of this broken mess.
Kaushalya Perera is a senior lecturer at the University of Colombo.
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Ready for solo spotlight
Singer Nish Peiris is set to take the next big step in her music journey.
The talented vocalist, who has been seen and heard in the scene here for a short while, and was also featured with the now-defunct band, Inner Vision, has announced that she will be fully committing to her solo career, after completing her degree this year.
“I’m finishing my degree this year, and after that I’ll be fully committing to my solo music career,” Nish told The Island.
“I’ve already got a few tours lined up for next year, so I’m really excited for what’s ahead.”
Fans, no doubt, will remember Nish for her smooth voice and stage presence, and the good news is that she is now ready to chart her own path and bring new music to audiences at home and abroad.
With tours already planned for 2027, the year 2026 promises to be an exciting year for the young artiste as she steps into the spotlight on her own.
We wish Nish every success in this new chapter!
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