Features

Lure of govt. service

Published

1 year ago

2025/06/15

Thilina Walpola

Government clerks

Underdevelopment and the Ruhuna Diaspora

In the Southern Province, comprising the districts of Hambantota, Galle and Matara, where NU grew up and had his education, the economic opportunities and prospects for social advancement for educated youth were limited. Many young people, such as NU, were obliged to leave their natal villages for employment outside; and the list of distinguished Sri Lankans who were originally from modest origins in Southern villages is impressive. They were usually the sons of cultivators or minor government employees. Contributing to this situation was the prevailing character of the economy, which provides the background for understanding the path of NU’s career and his flight from the South.

A glance at the economy will reveal the nature of the problem. In the Hambantota district, which was thinly populated and resourcepoor, the economy continued to remain undeveloped, and incapable of meeting employment and income needs. Several factors, which account for the undeveloped state of the economy of the Southern Province, were researched and reported on in the late 1930s and early 1940s by B.B. Das Gupta, Professor of Economics of the University of Ceylon. The report revealed low productivity, chronically

so in paddy, where the smallness of holdings discouraged improvements. Family incomes included the earnings of large numbers of women who found employment in spinning coir, or making rope, but their earnings were described as a ‘dole’ rather than an income. In many cases, productive assets were held by absentee interests who found that, to “live on the village it was not necessary to live in the village.” Das Gupta also reported that “people desert the village, settle in towns and manage their properties as absentee owners.”

The process of dispossession and impoverishment of the districts of the Southern Province was hastened by the control exercised over petty producers by traders, shopkeepers and moneylenders at village level. The prevalence of absentee ownership caught Das Gupta’s eye. “A considerable amount of land is in the hands of outsiders… Thus the villager stands largely dispossessed in his own village,” he wrote, noting that in Hambantota there was a swallowing up of land by outsiders. The forces thus described in the 1940s would have had an earlier origin – being operative in the 1920s, when NU was embarking on his career, and were probably prevalent even before that. Thus, the economy of the Southern districts was characterized by low productivity, and the income generated accrued mainly to outsiders, who reinvested or spent their income in urban localities. The problem of inadequate employment and income in the districts was aggravated by increases in both the overall population and the number of educated youth.

: A factory producing sheet rubber

: A coir mat weaver

: Workers sorting graphite

: A fruit kadey

The nature of the colonial economy, and the expansion in education, gave rise to groups with sharply differing degrees of occupational and social mobility. Due to the intermittent nature of their work, paddy-growing peasants stayed in their natal villages, heavily underemployed but attached to family farms, while persons without any access to land tried their fortunes elsewhere. The latter consisted of two types. The first were those with no education and no land, but with mainly their wits to rely on, who had nothing to lose. The second were those who, like NU, had acquired an education in English and aspired to white-collar employment in public service (as clerks and teachers) or in commercial offices in Colombo.

These two streams of people collectively constituted an invisible export of services. Both the educated and the less skilled had to move on from their villages of origin to obtain employment and try to improve their economic position and social status. NU was a part of this Southern Province exodus of people of all classes to Colombo and elsewhere in the island, to areas where there were economic opportunities. Numerous shops with names evocative of their Southern origins, such as ‘Matara Stores’ and ‘Weligama Stores,’ could

be found in many other provinces. In addition, persons from the Southern and Western provinces dominated the arrack and tavern trade in other parts of the island.

The Passion for Education

In 1893, the Ceylon Review described the attachment to white-collar work, where, for the sake of status, persons would forego higher incomes elsewhere (K. Jayawardena, 1972, p.12).The Commissioner of the 1911 Census, E.B. Denham, was perceptive about the class aspirations of rural society and claimed that among “the most remarkable features” of the decade 1901 to 1911 was “the rush to education,” which he describes as “an enormous demand” based on “a passion for education” (Denham, 1912, p.399, emphasis added). It was for an education in the English language, for which there was such “a popular clamour.” Rural traders, landowners and cultivators all over Sri Lanka were ambitious for their sons to enter government service or the professions, and thereby improve the fortunes and status of the whole family. As in many countries, village youth in Sri Lanka sought to move away from rural economic stagnation, and in Denham’s words, escape:

… from manual toil, from work… they regard as degrading, in an education which will enable them to pass examinations… [leading] to posts in offices in the towns… [entitling] the holders to the respect of the class from which they believe they have emancipated themselves. (ibid, p.399)

Farmers

In the 19th century, the clerical service at all levels was dominated by Burghers, who set the pace for other locals in their lifestyles and behaviour patterns. As Deloraine Brohier writes:

The Burghers had a headstart in education… they were the most literate of the local ethnic groups [and were] modern in outlook, [with] a strong preference for the security afforded by government service. (Brohier, 1993, p.18)

The writer William Digby, had commented in 1879, that Burghers took to professions “styled genteel” and that the “greatest ambition… cherished by a Burgher lad is to get into government service” (1879, pp.34-35). In the 1901 Census, it was noted that Burghers were the “backbone of the clerical service,” with one in four Burghers being dependent on government service, the figures for Sinhalese and Tamils being only one in a hundred. But the proportions changed in the 20th century when English-educated Sinhalese, Tamils and

Muslims entered the service. The earliest Sinhalese and Tamils to join government service not only emulated Burghers in their lifestyles, but also became ambitious for their children to move ahead and enter the ranks of the English-educated middle class. Hence the jostling for promotion and advancement in the ranks of the clerical service was fairly strong, even leading (as noted earlier) to some ethnic tensions based on competition between Sinhalese and Tamils for the limited posts in government service.

The middle-class lifestyle, which such employment encouraged, often led to clerical servants becoming indebted, and having to borrow from moneylenders. Apart from a pattern of expenditure that pressed hard on their level of income, a contributory factor to their indebtedness was the lack of a good return on their savings. With the caution of the middle class, they preferred fixed deposits in Post Office Savings Banks and in Benevolent Societies, providing a low but dependable income with no appreciation in capital value, rather than investments that could give a higher return, but were morerisky. However, the positive attributes of government employment outweighed this constraint.

In 1911, there were 5,400 government clerks, not including junior technical assistants and field employees in the public utilities. There were perhaps many more persons holding clerical or quasiclerical positions in mercantile firms, banks, insurance agencies, shipping companies and so on. However, the prestige attached to employment in the public service was far greater. Young men saw in government service their way up the social ladder of success. NU, who had started life in Hambantota and progressed to Tangalle, Matara and Galle, was heir to some of these influences. Like many ambitious youth he had wanted to be a doctor, but as he often recalled, his father could not finance him to do further studies.

Clerical service was one option, and became the ‘way out’ for NU in economic and social terms.

The Clerical Service as a Stepping Stone

The British rulers had recognized the need for an efficient clerical service run by locals in all parts of the island, to attend to day-to53 day matters, and to keep the records and correspondence of the colonial administration. Clerical work was crucial for the running of government offices and law courts, as well as the port, customs, railways, and other revenue departments. Those who entered the clerical service were considered privileged; they had now moved into the respectable world of government service and no longer had to seek employment in agriculture, fisheries or manual labour. Class 2 of the clerical service especially was the big leap forward. The service was divided into graded classes (1, 2 & 3) with salaries and benefits graded accordingly – the ‘class’ was important. A.E.H. Sanderatne (1975, p.6) describes an amusing and revealing incident. A telegram, said to have been sent by an officer in Class 3 to his father, on his success at the Clerical Examination, read: “Passed Clerical, coming home. Erect pandal, cook kiributh, prepare welcome, invite friends and relations.” His fellow officers nicknamed him “Kiributh” (milkrice) and it stuck to him from his promotion to Class 2.

As described earlier, the underdeveloped condition of the economy drastically curtailed the ‘respectable’ options that were open to educated young men of the time. The options were confined to clerical employment and, given the very limited development of the private sector in trade and industry, they were also mostly in the government service. The main requirement was a secondary education and proficiency in English. By contrast, upper-class land and plantation owners, liquor renters and graphite-mine owners could afford to give their children a higher education, sometimes abroad, qualifying them for the professions or enabling them to become government servants and commercial executives. With inherited wealth and some capital in their hands they could run their own enterprises as western-styled businessmen or plantation owners.

However, for the numerous members of the middle and lowermiddle classes, it was the clerical service that was within the range of the possible. The clerical service was not just a means of gainful livelihood, but included the attractions of employment security, a regular income, a pensionable post, and usually a good dowry. Financial security lasted beyond the individual’s lifetime, and included pensions for widows and orphans. “Permanent and pensionable” was almost a magic password that opened the door to a secure life, and along with a monthly salary and security of income, there was also status attached to government employment.

When a competitive examination direct to Class 2 was begun in 1874 to recruit intelligent young men from outside the service, many were attracted to this prospect, among them the sons of traders. For example, Hewavitarnege Don Carolis (founder of the furniture stores Don Carolis) encouraged his son David – who later became the famed Buddhist revivalist Anagarika Dharmapala – to sit this examination: “While touring remote villages he received information of his success at the General Clerical Service Examination – an extraordinary distinction for a Sinhala boy in 1886” (Sanderatne, 1975, p.8).

Although his family was attracted by the prospect, Dharmapala gave up the idea of such a career, to join Colonel Henry Olcott and Helena Blavatsky in their work as Theosophists for the revival of Buddhism and Buddhist education. ( Colonel Henry Steele Olcott (1832-1907), who had served in the American Civil War, and the Russian spiritualist Helena Blavatsky (1831-1891) founded the Theosophical Society (1875) in New York. They came to Sri Lanka in 1880, where they helped establish the Buddhist Theosophical Society. Olcott is best remembered for the active support he gave to the campaign to revive and defend Buddhism in Sri Lanka – particularly in his efforts to promote schools with a Buddhist orientation. A Bhikku reformist of the time, Sri Sumangala Thero, referred to Olcott as “a second Asoka.” (see Kumari Jayawardena, 1972, pp.46-51) Later, Dharmapala on his own initiative formed the Maha Bodhi Society to promote Buddhism.

The penchant for attaining social mobility through admission to clerical jobs was not confined to the colonies. Even in Britain, skilled workers wanted their sons to ‘move on.’ One interesting example, similar to NU’s experience, was that of Ivor Jennings (five years older than NU), the first Vice Chancellor of the University of Ceylon, who in his autobiography wrote that his father, a carpenter from Bristol, wanted his son to pass the Matriculation:

… not for the purpose of going to a university… but in order to obtain one of the better clerical jobs in the city of Bristol, For the Jennings family, and many other families, this was the height of ambition. (Jennings, 2005, p.226, emphasis added)

The men who became government clerks – there being no women in the clerical services at this time – also became part of a hierarchically ordered structure, and had taken an important step on the social ladder, moving up one rung to lower-middle-class status. The clerk, in his western dress, commanded respect from those lower down the social scale. He was now a ‘gentleman,’ and, most importantly, exempted from manual labour (to which by conditioning he was made averse). As a government servant, he exercised more than a semblance of authority over the public in the course of their dealings with the state. He also had good prospects of a ‘promising’ marriage, and was spoken to with respect and addressed as ‘mahatmaya.’

For a person in NU’s position, there were only two feasible career alternatives after leaving school – one, to become a teacher, and the other, to join the government service. Young NU was drawn to the first option; however, a career in government service was the path that he was to take – and was where he would spend the first 30 years of his long career. Nevertheless, he continued to aspire to academic achievement and through his tenaciousness and discipline would succeed in juggling his studies for a university degree while holding a fulltime job.

(N.U. JAYAWARDENA The First Five Decades Chapter 4 can read online on https://island.lk/influence-of-st-aloysius-and-its-teachers/

(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)
By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda

In the nineteen twenties great importance was given to success in the Class 2
(of the Clerical Service) Examination.
Parents considered it a fitting occasion for great rejoicing and celebration…

(A.E.H. Sanderatne, 1975, p.6)

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Features

People’s mandate and judicial legitimacy

Published

15 hours ago

2026/07/7

Sahan Weerasooriya

BASL public forum held last Saturday

Sri Lanka is witnessing the dismantling of the culture of impunity that dominated public life for decades. This is happening through the courts, police investigations and legal process. It is not an easy task and requires strong leadership as it is generating strong resistance. The ongoing revelations about the nexus between politicians, including those at the highest levels, and criminal networks show that the government’s electoral mandate with regard to corruption and crime is now being translated into action through the legal system. The vote of the people at the last national elections was for a corruption free country and an end to the climate of impunity that had prevailed for decades. They voted for a system change that would replace impunity with accountability under the rule of law. They expected those who had looted the country and brought it to the point of bankruptcy to be held accountable through the due process of law.

The cases that are being investigated by the police, in tandem with the Attorney General’s Department, and adjudicated by the judiciary are based on hard evidence. Much of the evidence that is now receiving publicity had been available several years ago and had even entered the legal process. In the past those cases failed to reach fruition. Investigations lost momentum, prosecutions failed to marshal the available evidence and many cases were dismissed, some on technical grounds. Between 2019 and 2024, a total of 102 cases were withdrawn from the courts by the government authorities. The public knew, or strongly believed, that corruption and serious crimes had taken place. The inability to establish wrongdoing before a court of law and hold those responsible accountable created a climate in which political power appeared to provide protection from legal accountability.

A countrywide study titled Factors Guiding Voter Preference in Elections in Sri Lanka was commissioned by the National Peace Council prior to the 2024 elections under the European Union funded project Active Citizens for Elections and Democracy and conducted by researchers Dr Mahesh Senanayake and Ms Crishni Silva of the University of Colombo. It found overwhelming public support for accountability and good governance. While 93 percent of respondents identified resolving the economic crisis as their foremost electoral concern, an equally striking 83 percent said they prioritised candidates committed to fighting corruption. The mandate given to the government can, therefore, be interpreted to mean to restore integrity to public life and end the long standing culture of impunity.

Different Approach

Today, it can be seen that the police, the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption, the Attorney General’s Department and the judiciary are approaching matters of impunity in respect of corruption and crime in a manner that is markedly different from the past. Several persons who formerly occupied high office have now been subjected to due legal process and, in a number of cases, convicted after judicial scrutiny at different levels of the court system. This is an important difference from earlier years when cases involving politically prominent persons frequently failed to proceed or collapsed before reaching their conclusion. The strength of the present accountability process lies not only in the convictions that have been secured but also in the growing public confidence that no one is above the law. It is in this context that reports of a government proposal to extend by two years the retirement age of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal have generated support from those who wish to see the present accountability process continue and opposition from those who see it as an attempt to influence the judiciary.

Many countries have increased judicial retirement ages in recognition of longer life expectancy and the value of retaining experienced judges. This has not only been limited to the judiciary but also the academia and the public service. However, the controversy in Sri Lanka is due to the context and as the proposal for an extension of the period of service of judges of the superior courts comes at a time when the courts are hearing politically significant corruption and criminal cases. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka has taken the lead in questioning the proposed constitutional amendment. The BASL has stated that it “notes with grave concern” reports that the government is considering increasing the retirement age of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal. It has warned that extending the tenure of sitting judges at this point of time is likely to be viewed by the public as an attempt to interfere with the independence of the judiciary.

The main issue raised by the BASL is therefore one of preserving public confidence in the administration of justice. A discussion organised by the BASL also highlighted that this issue has implications beyond Sri Lanka. Representatives of the Commonwealth Lawyers Association and LAWASIA acknowledged that many countries have increased the retirement age of judges in recognition of greater life expectancy and the value of retaining experienced judges. Their concern was not with increasing the retirement age itself but with changing the tenure of sitting judges while politically significant corruption cases are before the courts. In such circumstances, even well intentioned reform could create a public perception that the judiciary is being influenced to take forward the government’s mandate in a partisan manner.

Maintain Confidence

The challenge before the government is to preserve two equally important objectives. The first is to continue implementing the people’s mandate to hold the corrupt and those responsible for grave crimes accountable before the law. The second is to ensure that nothing is done which could diminish public confidence in the independence and impartiality of the judiciary that is entrusted with carrying out that responsibility. The strength of the present accountability process lies in the confidence it has generated among the public that investigations, prosecutions and judicial decisions are being made according to law as in the convictions that have been secured. Sri Lanka has come a long way from the days when politically sensitive cases rarely reached a successful conclusion. It would be unfortunate if doubts regarding the independence of the judiciary were to overshadow what has otherwise been a significant institutional achievement.

In the face of the concerns expressed by the BASL, opposition political parties and international legal organisations, it would be prudent for the government to widen the discussion on the proposed amendment. If there is a compelling case to increase the retirement age of judges of the superior courts, that case should be placed before the public and parliament and debated openly. Such a constitutional amendment should not rest solely on the government’s parliamentary majority, even if it has the numbers to secure its passage. Simply utilising the numbers that the government on its own to make changes to the constitution will not increase its legitimacy or credibility. Those values will be strengthened if they were preceded by public consultation and supported across party lines in Parliament. Bipartisan political support can be expected from those in the opposition, of whom there are many, who have shown an inclination to practice responsible politics in the national interest.

The people voted not only to change a government but to change a system. They expected those who abused public trust to be held accountable through institutions that commanded public confidence. That expectation is beginning to be fulfilled. It should not be placed at risk by constitutional change that lacks broad public acceptance. If the government believes there is a compelling case to extend the retirement age of the judges of the superior courts, it should first make that case to the people and seek bipartisan support in Parliament with those in the opposition who are also sincere about anti-corruption and good governance. The challenge is to protect the independence of the judiciary while ensuring that no one is above the law. Overcoming this challenge is the surest way to make Sri Lanka’s transition from a culture of impunity to one of accountability a lasting one.

by Jehan Perera

Features

Intelligence-led governance: the strategic path to a sovereign nation

Published

15 hours ago

2026/07/7

Sahan Weerasooriya

In an increasingly volatile and interconnected world, the strength of a nation is no longer determined solely by the size of its military, the abundance of its natural resources, or the growth of its economy. The true measure of national strength lies in the resilience of its institutions, the confidence of its people, the effectiveness of its governance, and its ability to anticipate and respond to emerging challenges before they become national crises.

The twenty-first century has introduced a security landscape that is far more complex than ever before. Nations today confront not only conventional military threats but also terrorism, organised crime, cyber-attacks, economic instability, disinformation, climate change, pandemics, energy insecurity, irregular migration, financial crimes, and geopolitical competition. These challenges are interconnected and demand integrated responses rather than isolated solutions.

To navigate this evolving environment successfully, every nation requires a shared strategic vision supported by strong institutions working in harmony. At the centre of this vision should be a modern, professional, and intelligence-led system of governance that enables informed decision-making, protects democratic values, and promotes sustainable national development.

A Shared Strategic Vision

Every successful nation should aspire towards a common national vision:

A Sovereign Nation Happy People Peaceful Society Prosperous Economy A Respected Global Partner

These are not independent aspirations but interconnected national outcomes. Achieving them requires every State institution to work collectively under a common strategic framework rather than as isolated entities pursuing individual objectives.

A sovereign nation is one that possesses not only secure borders but also strong institutions, economic resilience, social cohesion, and the confidence to make independent national decisions. Sovereignty today extends beyond territorial integrity to include economic security, cyber resilience, energy security, food security, environmental sustainability, and protection against external influence.

Good Governance: The Cornerstone

The foundation of every successful nation is good governance.

Transparency, accountability, integrity, professionalism, and efficient public administration create an environment where citizens trust their institutions and investors have confidence in the country’s future. Corruption, political interference, inefficiency, and weak institutions undermine national resilience and weaken sovereignty from within.

Good governance is not merely an administrative principle; it is a national security imperative.

When public institutions function efficiently, public services improve, economic opportunities expand, and social grievances diminish. This reduces vulnerabilities that extremist groups, organised criminals, and foreign actors often exploit.

The Rule of Law and Judicial Independence

An independent judiciary is one of the strongest pillars of democracy.

Justice must be administered impartially and without fear or favour. Citizens must have confidence that the law applies equally to everyone, regardless of social status or political influence.

Judicial independence strengthens public confidence, attracts foreign investment, and reinforces national stability. Investors are more likely to invest in countries where contracts are enforceable, disputes are resolved fairly, and property rights are protected.

Likewise, professional law enforcement agencies play a vital role in safeguarding public order. Intelligence-led policing, supported by modern investigative techniques, community engagement, and technological innovation, enables law enforcement to prevent crime rather than merely react to it.

Human Rights: A Strategic Asset

There is often a misconception that national security and human rights exist in opposition. In reality, they reinforce one another.

Respect for human dignity, equality before the law, freedom of expression, religious freedom, and constitutional rights strengthens national unity and social cohesion. Citizens who trust their institutions are more willing to cooperate with authorities, report suspicious activities, and participate in community safety initiatives.

Communities become the first line of defence against extremism, organised crime, and social unrest when mutual trust exists between citizens and the State.

Human rights should therefore be viewed not as obstacles to security but as essential components of sustainable national security.

Intelligence: The Strategic Nerve Centre

At the heart of modern governance lies an effective national intelligence network.

Traditionally, intelligence was associated primarily with military operations and counter-terrorism. Today, its responsibilities extend much further.

Modern intelligence supports political leadership by providing timely, accurate, objective, and actionable information that enables informed decision-making. It anticipates threats, identifies opportunities, and supports strategic planning across all sectors of government.

An effective intelligence system should be:

* Predictive rather than reactive.

* Preventive rather than investigative alone.

* Integrated rather than fragmented.

* Technology-driven rather than paper-based.

* People-centred rather than institution-centred.

Artificial intelligence, big data analytics, cyber intelligence, financial intelligence, geospatial intelligence, satellite imagery, behavioural analysis, digital forensics, and open-source intelligence are transforming the intelligence profession worldwide.

Countries that fail to modernise their intelligence capabilities risk strategic surprise and reduced competitiveness in an increasingly data-driven world.

Intelligence Beyond National Security

Modern intelligence should no longer be confined to counter-terrorism or espionage.

Its role should extend to supporting national development through the protection of critical infrastructure, monitoring economic trends, securing supply chains, safeguarding maritime interests, protecting natural resources, and assessing climate-related risks.

Intelligence should assist policymakers in areas such as:

* Economic planning

* Public health preparedness

* Disaster risk reduction

* Cybersecurity

* Energy security

* Food security

* Environmental protection

* Artificial intelligence governance

* Foreign policy

* Investment protection

An intelligence-led government anticipates future challenges instead of merely responding after crises emerge.

Whole-of-Government Cooperation

One of the greatest weaknesses in many developing nations is institutional fragmentation.

Government agencies often collect valuable information independently but fail to share it effectively. This creates duplication, delays, and missed opportunities.

A National Intelligence Fusion Centre should integrate information from intelligence services, police, armed forces, immigration, customs, financial intelligence units, cyber security agencies, disaster management authorities, health services, and environmental agencies.

Such integration provides decision-makers with a comprehensive national picture and significantly improves crisis management and strategic planning.

Economic Prosperity Through Security

Economic development depends fundamentally upon stability.

Foreign investors seek countries where governance is predictable, corruption is controlled, contracts are enforceable, infrastructure is secure, and political stability is maintained.

An effective intelligence system quietly protects these conditions by identifying threats to investment, monitoring organised crime, preventing financial fraud, protecting critical infrastructure, and safeguarding strategic industries.

Security and economic development are therefore mutually reinforcing.

Investment creates employment.

Employment reduces poverty.

Reduced poverty strengthens social stability.

Social stability reinforces national security.

International Partnerships

No nation can successfully confront modern threats alone.

Transnational organised crime, cybercrime, narcotics trafficking, terrorism, money laundering, illegal migration, and environmental crimes operate across borders.

Regional and global intelligence cooperation has therefore become indispensable.

Information sharing, joint investigations, coordinated maritime surveillance, and collaborative cyber defence significantly enhance national capabilities while strengthening diplomatic relationships.

Strong intelligence supports effective diplomacy.

Effective diplomacy enhances trade, investment, tourism, education, and technological cooperation.

Ultimately, international confidence contributes directly to national prosperity.

The Relationship Between National Stakeholders

National success depends upon collaboration among all stakeholders.

Government provides leadership and policy direction.

The judiciary safeguards justice.

Law enforcement protects public safety.

The intelligence community provides foresight and early warning.

Civil society strengthens social cohesion.

Educational institutions develop future leaders.

The private sector generates investment and innovation.

International partners facilitate trade, cooperation, and knowledge sharing.

Citizens themselves remain the most important stakeholders.

When these institutions operate with mutual trust, shared objectives, and effective coordination, they create a resilient State capable of responding confidently to both domestic and international challenges.

The Strategic Path Forward

Every nation requires a long-term vision rather than short-term political agendas.

That vision should place national interest above partisan interests and institutional collaboration above bureaucratic competition.

The pathway is straightforward:

Good Governance Independent Judiciary Professional Law Enforcement Protection of Human Rights Effective National Intelligence Network Political Stability Investor Confidence Economic Growth Foreign Direct Investment Peaceful Society Happy People A Sovereign Nation

This strategic chain demonstrates that sovereignty is not achieved through military strength alone. It is the cumulative outcome of good governance, justice, intelligence, economic resilience, and public confidence.

The future belongs to nations that can anticipate change, adapt rapidly, and make informed strategic decisions. Intelligence must therefore evolve from being viewed solely as a security function to becoming a central pillar of national governance and development.

A modern intelligence network should serve as the strategic nervous system of the State—connecting governance with justice, justice with security, security with economic prosperity, and prosperity with international respect.

A sovereign nation is ultimately one where institutions are trusted, citizens are protected, rights are respected, opportunities are created, and decisions are guided by knowledge rather than assumption. When all stakeholders work in harmony under a shared strategic vision, the result is a nation that is secure, prosperous, peaceful, and respected on the global stage.

The challenge before every developing nation is therefore not simply to strengthen its security apparatus but to embrace Intelligence-Led Governance as a national philosophy—one that integrates good governance, rule of law, human rights, innovation, and strategic foresight into a unified framework for sustainable national development. Such a vision will not only safeguard sovereignty but also ensure that future generations inherit a nation defined by stability, prosperity, and enduring peace

By Mahil Dole, SSP (Rtd.)

Features

The perfect victim: How institutions respond

Published

15 hours ago

2026/07/7

Sahan Weerasooriya

Nils Christie

It has been almost two months since the judgement of Abeyasinghe v Tilakaratne and others by the Supreme Court. Since then, I have often been asked a simple question, which I, too, have asked myself. “Has anything actually changed?” My answer is both yes and no. Judgements can uphold the law, direct institutions and clarify principles. But they cannot, by themselves, change cultures.

I shall take the liberty of writing this piece because, in the weeks following the judgment, I have found myself reflecting less on the outcome of the case and more on what it reveals about our institutions. Yet institutions do not change simply because a court has spoken. They change only when they are willing to question long-held assumptions, reflect honestly on their procedures and practices, learn from their shortcomings and act decisively to foster a culture that places accountability at its centre.

The myth of the perfect victim

One such assumption is about the conduct of the Ideal or Perfect victim. The concept of the “ideal victim” was first articulated by the Norwegian criminologist Nils Christie in 1986. Interestingly, Christie was not concerned with identifying those most likely to become victims of crime. Instead, his question was who is most readily recognised and accepted by society as a “real” victim? Society is often more willing to extend sympathy and credibility to victims who fit a particular stereotype. According to Christie, the “ideal victim” is someone perceived to be weak and vulnerable, engaged in a respectable activity, in a place where they have every right to be, harmed by someone clearly viewed as “big” or “bad,” and, importantly, a stranger rather than someone they know. These characteristics continue to influence how victims are perceived today. Although we may not consciously apply such criteria, they often shape our instinctive judgments about who deserves to be believed.

In the context of sexual violence within universities, the assumptions surrounding the ideal victim quickly begin to unravel. Power relationships within universities are often complex, and professional relationships may have existed before the misconduct. The alleged perpetrator may not be a stranger but a lecturer, supervisor, colleague, or fellow student. The complainant may continue interacting with the alleged perpetrator because academic progression or employment leaves little choice. When a victim does not fit the mould of the “perfect victim,” attention shifts away from the conduct of the alleged perpetrator and towards the conduct of the complainant.

What should be kept in mind is that victims respond to trauma differently. Some report immediately; many do not. Some become emotional; others appear composed. Some resign from their workplace, while others continue to work because they have no realistic alternative or because they wish to confront the violence head on. Some preserve every piece of evidence; others delete messages simply because they cannot bear to see them again. Yet these perfectly human responses are often interpreted as reasons to doubt credibility.

Universities provide a particularly complex setting for this phenomenon. Most complainants do not initially seek justice. More often, they simply want the harassment to stop so that they can continue their education or employment in an environment where they feel safe. Sometimes victims make anonymous complaints, not because they wish to avoid accountability, but because anonymity provides the only sense of security they have. During preliminary inquiries/ fact finding processes, confidentiality can often be maintained. However, if the matter proceeds to a formal disciplinary process, complainants are usually required to reveal their identities. It is at this point that many decide not to proceed further, not because the harassment did not occur, but because the personal cost of pursuing justice becomes overwhelming.

Perhaps this should prompt us to ask a different question. Instead of asking why anonymous complaints exist or why complainants don’t come forward (sooner), should we not ask why so many complainants feel unsafe engaging with the institutional process?

The subject of scrutiny

When survivors do come forward, they frequently encounter another familiar phenomenon, victim blaming.

“Why didn’t you complain earlier?”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“If you were sexually harassed, why are you still working there?”

“Why did you continue interacting with him?”

“The reason this happened is because you showed positivity towards him.”

“There is no smoke without fire.”

Although these questions appear different, they have something in common. They all examine the behaviour of the complainant. Very few begin by asking why the alleged perpetrator behaved in the way described. The familiar proverb, “There is no smoke without fire,” is often used to suggest that the complainant must have done something to invite the misconduct. Yet perhaps we have misunderstood where the fire lies. The fire is not the complainant’s behaviour. The fire is the conduct of the alleged perpetrator. The complaint is the smoke that finally becomes visible.

These responses also reveal another contradiction. If a victim complains immediately, some might question their motives. If they delay, the delay becomes the issue. If they resign, they may be described as unstable or unable to cope. If they remain in employment, their continued presence is taken as evidence that the misconduct could not have been serious or that it never had happened. If they show emotion, they risk being dismissed as irrational. If they remain composed, they may be accused of exaggerating. In truth, there is often no version of events in which a complainant can satisfy every expectation placed upon them. If our systems only work for the “perfect victim,” then they were never truly designed for victims at all.

The silence that speaks

The recent judgment also prompted me to reflect on another aspect of institutional culture, silence. Within academia, even discussing judgments concerning one’s own institution may be framed as bringing the institution into disrepute. Such framing places academics in an impossible position. Those who speak are sometimes portrayed as being disloyal or as failing to respect the institution they serve. Yet genuine respect for an institution should not require silence in the face of injustice. Universities are places that encourage academic freedom, critical inquiry, evidence-based reasoning, and intellectual debate. They should, therefore, be places where uncomfortable conversations are not avoided but embraced.

The relative silence surrounding the judgment in academia raises important questions. Does silence reflect satisfaction that justice has been served? Does it reflect concern about damaging the reputation of one’s university? Does it reflect uncertainty about whether difficult institutional conversations are welcome? Or does it reflect a real or perceived fear of professional consequences for speaking openly? These are questions that deserve thoughtful reflection.

Post judgement reflections

At the same time, my experience in the weeks following the judgment has also been one of hope. Individuals who have experienced different forms of abuse have quietly come forward to share their own stories with me. Some have sought legal advice. Others have simply wanted someone to listen. Their experiences remind me that judgments do more than resolve disputes between parties. They send messages to those who have remained silent, that seeking justice remains possible. Perhaps that is one answer to the question I posed at the beginning of this article. Has anything actually changed? For some victims, I believe the answer is yes. A judgement can restore hope and encourage those who had previously felt that their voices would never be heard.

Yet judgments alone cannot erase trauma, restore lost years, or undo the personal and professional consequences that many victims endure. Courts can interpret the law, but they cannot, by themselves, transform institutional culture. Culture changes only when institutions and university communities are willing to learn from judgments rather than merely comply with them. It changes when realities of power imbalances are recognised, when credibility is assessed through evidence rather than stereotypes, and when the question “Why did the victim not come forward sooner?” is replaced with “What conditions made it so difficult for the victim to come forward?” Ultimately, the true value of a judgement lies not only in the orders it makes, but also in the conversations it inspires and the institutional self-reflection it demands. Whether anything truly changes will not depend on the judgement itself, but on whether institutions have the courage to learn from them.

(Udari Abeyasinghe is attached to the Faculty of Dental Sciences at the University of Peradeniya)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

by Udari Abeyasinghe