Features
Working with Dr. Dahanayake and some advice to public servants
On February 28, 1986, I was chairing a conference on Co-operative Policy at the Agricultural Research and Training Institute (ARTI), which included a senior delegation of Cooperative experts from Sweden, when I received an urgent summons from the President. Such a summons were always somewhat destabilizing because you wondered as to what could have caused the head of State to suddenly send for you.
I went to the President’s office at Republic Square and met him. The President informed me that sometime previously he had promised the veteran Parliamentarian and former Prime Minister, Dr. W. Dahanayake a Cabinet post. He said further that he had been reminding him of this on a number of occasions, including recently. He therefore did not want to delay matters further, and wished to appoint him as Minister of Co-operatives. He wanted me to split the existing Ministry of Food and Co-operatives into two. Mr. Gamani Jayasuriya was to remain as Minister of Food.
The President said that he had already discussed matters with him. If this was what the President wanted done, I had to do it. I had however a fear that I would be appointed Secretary to the Ministry of Co-operatives. The reason for this was not that I thought the subject of Co-operatives unimportant. It in fact encompassed a vast area. The reason was that I was compelled to figure in a major clash with Dr. Dahanayake, in the Parliamentary Consultative Committee a few months earlier, when he, in my view quite unfairly went for my Commissioner of Co-operative Development.
On this occasion in Parliament, I waited patiently for a while thinking that matters would blow over. But when they didn’t and Dr. Dahanayake kept on attacking the Commissioner, not giving him a chance to speak, I intervened. He then turned his ire on me, and I took him on. We went at each other with raised voices until I remember my Minister Gamani Jayasuriya next to whom I was seated, squeezing my arm to restrain me. When the meeting was over and we were leaving, my officers who were very pleased at the defence I put up told me “Sir, did you realize that you were pointing your finger at Dr. Dahanayake?” I had not.
Evidently in the heat of the argument I had done so, and I did not feel good about it. Later, I did understand Arjuna Ranatunge, when he wagged his finger at Umpire Emerson. We tend to do this in the heat of the moment. In this context, I told the President, that I hoped that he would appoint a separate Secretary for Co-operatives. “No, Pieris, you be Secretary to both Ministries,” he replied. I then told him that I had a bit of a clash with Dr. Dahanayake in the Parliamentary Committee, and that he and I could feel uncomfortable working together.
“No, that’s alright, I will tell him that he has to work with you,” the President said. The matter was now concluded, and one had to abide by the decision. The President had only one more thing to say. “When you split the Ministry please do so with the least possible cost,” he said. I promised to do so. This was done, and on March 4, I accompanied Dr. Dahanayake to President’s House where he took his oaths, before the President.
He was in his eighties then. When we were leaving, in answer to a question from the waiting press, he said “Gentlemen, I shall get down to work. I have nothing to tell you now. You can come and interview me again when I reach my 100th birthday!”
We spent very little funds in setting up the new Ministry. It was located in the same premises as the Food Ministry in Union Place. We put Dr. Dahanayake in a spacious room on the ground floor, just below my room upstairs. I remained in my room, which was next to the room of Mr. Gamani Jayasuriya, now Minister of Food. I was in the unenviable position of having to serve two Ministers. I had to talk to them and determine how I could see both on a regular basis, in the interest of work.
This was not easy, given the busy schedules of Ministers, who also travelled a great deal within the country. In addition to this, Dr. Dahanayake’s Parliamentary constituency was Galle, over 100 k.m. from Colombo.
But one had to cope. The allocation of staff to the two Ministries had to be carefully done, taking into account also to a degree, personal preferences. A certain amount of partitioning of rooms and the creation of cubicles had to be done. Cars had to be re-allocated. These tasks may appear trivial. They are however never easy when it comes to actual implementation, due to personal preferences, resistance to change and differences of opinion, particularly in areas such as allocation of office space and cars. All in all, however, a smooth transition was effected.
Dr. Dahanayake
Working with Dr. Dahanayake was an interesting and even a novel experience. One of the first things he said was that he wanted his office opened at six in the morning, because by 6.30 he wanted to come in and work. He did not have family responsibilities. Viewing the number of shocked faces before him, he affably said that he does not require any public servant to come in at that time, but only his office opened. Necessary arrangements were made.
It was no trouble working with him except that he could become very stubborn, and when in such a mood, he closed his mind completely to any reasoned argument. I encountered this condition very early in his administration. One afternoon, learning that the Minister had come into office, I grabbed some papers about which I needed to see him and went downstairs to his room. When I went in. he was engaged in an argument with Camillus Fernando, the Commissioner of Co-operative Development.
The Minister glanced at me as I entered, and continued with his disagreement with the Commissioner. I listened carefully to what was going on and realized that the Commissioner was right. The Minister wanted to dissolve the Board of Directors of a Multi-purpose Co-operative Society, and the Commissioner was rightly advising him that given the prevailing circumstances, and the legal provisions neither he nor the Minister had the power to do so. The Minister was not in agreement.
After sometime, the Minister turned to me and asked “Mr. Pieris, I am the Minister, don’t I have the power to dissolve this Board?” I said “I am afraid not, Sir.” This time turning away from the Commissioner, he started to argue with me. I kept on calmly and politely telling him about the limits of power which made the Minister only more irritated and angry. Finally, he gave an order to the Commissioner to dissolve the Board. The Commissioner and I warned him that if the Society went to the Supreme Court it could be most embarrassing.
The Minister however was quite exercised over the powers he thought he had. The Commissioner carried out the order, and the Society went to Court. In due course the judgment of the Supreme Court was prominently published in the newspapers. The Chief Justice Mr. Sharvananda slated the Minister for his “arbitrary” and “capricious” action. The judgment went on to cast severe strictures on him and concluded with an order to pay costs, and additionally a sum of Rs. 25,000 to be personally paid by the Minister.
On learning of the judgment, the Minister was greatly agitated. He called us and further wished to speak to the Attorney-General. We advised him that this would be a useless exercise. But he was adamant. We got the Attorney General on the phone for him. He advised the Minister firmly that he should pay up before the expiry of the given date or risk facing contempt charges. The Minister finally realized that there were indeed limits to the power of a Minister, and that the law in this respect had developed considerably towards curtailing wide executive powers, since he last held office a long time ago.
I managed to find Rs. 25,000 so that the Minister did not have to pay from his personal funds. After this episode, he listened to us much more, and on one celebrated occasion in the Parliamentary Consultative Committee, when I had to whisper words of caution into his ear, when he was once again giving certain directions to the Commissioner, he banged the table and said “Stop! My wise Permanent Secretary says I don’t have the power. I withdraw my order!”
Once the necessary adjustments were made in our working relationship with the Minister and he himself understood his operational framework better, in particular the legal aspects, it became quite pleasant to work with him. He was fatherly, and full of advice about good health habits, particularly diet and exercise. Old as he was, he was quite obviously one of the few MPs or Ministers who used Parliament’s well stocked library to the full.
He constantly carried with him a number of books on varied subjects and copies of the latest international magazines. He was well read and possessed a sound memory and could quote poetry extensively. On one occasion, to illustrate the point that perceptions differ depending on the circumstances one is placed in, he spontaneously quoted from memory, the following delightful lines from Kipling:
”The toad beneath the harrow knows
Exactly where each tooth-point goes,
The butterfly upon the road,
Preaches contentment to that toad”
His previous training and experience as a good teacher showed. All this enlivened discussions with him. I was aware that during the early days, he was not happy with me and wanted to get another Secretary, which was actually my own suggestion to the President, when he discussed the setting up of the Ministry of Co-operatives with me. This was because duty compelled me to disagree with him in some instances. But as time went on he realized that my disagreements with him were not personal, but in the line of performing my duties.
Particularly after the Supreme Court judgment, referred to, he appreciated that the advice we gave him was sound. Once understanding and trust were established, he relaxed and we began to have a harmonious relationship. He appreciated good work and did not hesitate to commend such work. On one occasion, he wanted me to draft a memorandum to the Ministers of Co-operatives of the Provinces on the subject of “Devolution of Functions and Responsibilities in respect of the Co-operative Sectors to the Provincial Councils.” I drafted a four page memorandum and sent it to him for approval.
Two days later I received a hand written note from him on his Parliamentary letter head. It said, “Thank you very much for the memo to the Provincial Ministers. It is perfect, nothing missing, and nothing to add!” It was particularly satisfying to receive this from a Minister who was a member of the then State Council before I was born and one with whom, as I have related, I have had some disagreements. All this however was in the past and the relationship became warmer.
On one occasion when I was ill in bed with fever, the Minister unexpectedly came to see me at home. I remember my wife being worried about his climbing the stairs to my bedroom, because at his age he was not too firm on his feet. I was deeply touched. He sat at my bedside and talked to me for half an hour. He also paid me handsome compliments in Parliament, particularly during the Committee stage of the budget as well as on some other occasions when matters pertaining to the Ministry were under discussion.
For instance on July 20, 1988, he stated as follows in Parliament: “Then again the Co-operative Department and the Ministry officials have given me the fullest co-operation. The Co-operative movement has no greater friend than the Secretary to the Ministries of Food and Co-operatives Mr. Dharmasiri Pieris. He, with Mr. Gamani Jayasuriya was responsible for getting the Rs. 300 million loan in 1984. But for the timely intervention and help of Mr. Dharmasiri Pieris and Mr. Gamani Jayasuriya, the MPCS movement might have been underground by now.”
The Minister was here referring to a soft loan I negotiated with Mr. Chandi Chanmugam, Secretary to the Treasury, during this period. I am grateful that Chandi gave me a patient hearing and appreciated the critical condition the MPCS were in. I am also grateful for the confidence that Chandi had in me, for at the conclusion of our discussions he said “Millions of Rupees are being wasted. At least, I know that if this money is given to you, you would put it to good use.”
I indeed intended to put it to good use. In this, I was greatly assisted by Mr. Sunil Wijesinha, the well known Management Consultant, who at the time was Chairman of the Sri Lanka Institute of Co-operative Management, an organization coming under the Ministry. He succeeded in computerizing to a substantial extent the accounts of the MPCS. Therefore we had vital information readily available. We also did not just dole out money to the Co-operatives. We charged a low interest, and occasionally gave a grant when really necessary.
But all this was tied to their satisfying certain basic criteria laid down by us, which included specified good management practices and proper financial discipline. The computerization enabled us to closely monitor the Societies to which loans were given and I myself chaired a monthly meeting which went into matters such as the proper use of the loan, on schedule repayment and sound management practices.
If one received Rs. 300 million, one was certainly accountable to the country. But apart from that, which was in any case something I had to discharge in the line of duty, I felt personally responsible to Chandi Chanmugam, who did not argue or quibble, but promptly agreed to release the money, because of the confidence he had in me. As for Minister (Dahanayake) as well as Minister Gamani Jayasuriya, in spite of their own idiosyncrasies, they were experienced and mature politicians, and gentlemen.
If they felt that praise was due, they said it in public and did not mince words. They did not suffer from any inferiority complex that any praise bestowed on public officers, detracted from any perception of their own performance. They did not belong to that breed of lesser men often found in politics. They had the self confidence to praise others. Thus, on December 12, 1985, making the winding up speech on the Committee Stage of the Budget, on the debate on the votes of the Ministry of Food and Co-operatives, Hon. Gamani Jayasuriya said: “My Secretary and my Additional Secretary, have been of immense help to me. My Secretary has guided me in most of my work, and my duties as Minister of Food and Co-operatives have been made very much lighter because I have a Secretary of the calibre of Mr. Dharmasiri Pieris.”
Again, during the same occasion, this time, in the next year 1986, Hon. Gamani Jayasuriya said this in Parliament on December 18, when he referred to Mr. Weragoda, Secretary, Agriculture, and to me: “If I have some success in the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Food, it has been due to the good work done by my two Secretaries. They are gentlemen in whom I can place my utmost confidence. They are very hard working people. They did not work by the clock. They work till the job is finished.”
These degrees of modesty and gentlemaniness are increasingly difficult to find in a growing political environment where political light weights imagine themselves to be heavy weights and comically, if not tragically then believe themselves to be experts in omniscience. In such persons, there is little evidence of either dignity, generosity or maturity.
After Dr. Dahanayake left active politics and retired to his home in Galle, I sent him a New Year greetings card for 1990. He took the trouble to send me a touching letter in which he stated, “During all my career of 40 years, I had so many Secretaries, working with me. But from all these, the one who impressed me most was Dharmasiri Pieris.” After a fairly stormy start, this is how our relationship ended.
The lesson for public servants reading this is that you have to do the duty cast upon you whether it be pleasant or unpleasant. Seeking temporary popularity by seeking to compromise your position, if you strongly believe in it, and could cogently argue it, only demeans the public service and in the end diminishes your own standing in the eyes of the very politicians you are trying to please. I have myself seen numerous instances, where public servants, forgetting their public duty, sought to take short cuts to popularity and what in the end happened to them, the contempt with which they were treated, the fatal loss of credibility they suffered.
Trying to malign other public servants or attempting to falsely implicate them in something or other in the pursuit of personal gain, is also a dangerous game some public servants play which invariably end in disaster. I know of several such cases. But I shall cite only one example, in which I myself was indirectly involved, and where one such person, who feeling threatened that I might get some job that he was aspiring to, falsely told some influential members of a major political party that I had secretly helped to draft the election manifesto of the other major party.
Knowing my track record, and the unimpeachable credibility I had established, both in the service and outside, a senior member of the party concerned telephoned me in a veritable state of shock that someone could say this of me! The person went on to say that it was a very good thing that the public servant concerned had said this of me, because has led to the realization as to what “A dangerous character,” he was, and that they considered themselves fortunate that his “true character” was discovered, because they were indeed contemplating giving him a senior assignment.
My advice to all public servants is that the longest way round is the shortest way home. If you are tempted to take a short cut, then you must also face the prospect of your journey being cut short. What is necessary is to consistently, diligently and humbly work for your country and its people. Let praise or blame come as they may. I am an example where much unsolicited and unexpected praise had come my way, by doing just that. Instances I have mentioned in these memoirs are almost negligible compared to several files full of letters and references that I have with me.
(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobigraphy of MDD Pieris)
Features
Own the car or let the App drive?
The real cost of daily travel in urban Sri Lanka
For many middle-class Sri Lankans, the private car still carries connotations of stability, dignity, and upward mobility. Yet in today’s Sri Lanka, with petrol at Rs. 434 per litre, following the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation’s revision, effective 30 May, 2026, loan-to-value ratios tightened to 40% requiring a 60% down payment, and ride-hailing apps now joined by app-based three-wheelers, the question of whether to own a car has become sharper than ever. The answer is not emotional but economic: for ordinary day-to-day travel, is it actually cheaper and wiser to own a car, or to let the app do the work?
Take a generic urban Sri Lankan commuter making a 40 km daily round trip to office and back, with routine errands built in. That is about 880 km a month across 22 working days. At that level of usage, the arithmetic becomes surprisingly clear: for a large group of moderate urban users, app-based mobility, whether a car or a three-wheeler, is financially smarter than owning a car, unless the non-financial benefits of ownership matter deeply enough to justify the premium.
The Sri Lankan distortion:
cars cost too much
In most developed economies, cars are consumer durables. In Sri Lanka, they behave more like luxury financial assets. A moderate vehicle, such as a Toyota Raize or Honda Civic, often costs several times what a comparable car would in a developed market, once taxes, import restrictions, and scarcity are priced in.
Assume a moderate privately used car priced at 10 million. Under the Central Bank’s current 40% LTV directive, the buyer may borrow only 40% against the vehicle’s value, requiring a 60% down payment of 6 million and a five-year lease on the remaining 4 million. At a typical Sri Lankan leasing rate of 14% per annum, the monthly lease instalment comes to approximately 93,000. A moderate petrol vehicle averages around 12 km per litre in urban traffic. At Rs. 434 per litre, fuel cost alone is 36 per km, or 31,800 per month for 880 km. Add insurance of 12,000 and a conservative 4,000 for routine running costs, and total cash outgoings reach approximately 140,800 per month.
But cash outgoings alone understate the true cost. The 6 million down payment, if invested elsewhere at 9% per annum, would generate approximately 45,000 per month in foregone return. Adding this opportunity cost, the full economic cost of the moderate car rises to 185,900 per month, or 211 per km.
The app alternatives: car or three-wheeler
Urban Sri Lankan commuters today have many distinct app-based mobility options, each serving different journey types and comfort preferences.
Uber and PickMe (car hire): A premium car hire through Uber or PickMe costs approximately 150 per km. For 880 km of monthly travel, that comes to 132,000 per month. Compared with the moderate owned car at 185,900, the app saves 53,900 per month, or 61 per km. On purely financial terms, the app wins decisively.
App-based three-wheelers: App-based three-wheelers currently charge approximately 110 per km. For 880 km, that is 96,800 per month, saving 89,100 per month and 101 per km compared with the moderate owned car. The tuk-tuk app is the most economical of the three mobility options for short urban trips, though clearly unsuitable for highway travel, poor weather, carrying passengers in formal settings, however, it represents a compelling financial case.
Non-financial advantages of ownership
Transport decisions are never purely accounting exercises. A private car offers privacy, immediate availability, flexibility, and family utility in ways that no app can fully replicate. With your own car, you can leave when you want, stop when you want, change route mid-journey, carry files or groceries without thought, respond to emergencies, and avoid the uncertainty of waiting for a driver to accept your ride. It also becomes a family coordination tool: school drop-offs, medical visits, elderly passengers, unplanned errands, and weekend travel all become easier. In psychological terms, ownership buys autonomy. No app-based alternative, whether car or three-wheeler, provides that.
The hidden burden of car ownership and app limitations
Yet the same car creates stress. Urban Sri Lankan driving is rarely relaxing. Congestion is exhausting, lane discipline is weak, and parking is a recurring headache. Every daily driver absorbs cognitive fatigue that accumulates invisibly over months.
Uber and PickMe remove the burden of driving, fuelling, and servicing. But they introduce their own friction: waiting times, driver cancellations, surge pricing during peak hours or rain, and inconsistent vehicle quality. App three-wheelers add further constraints, limited luggage capacity, exposure to weather, and social context limitations. The app does not eliminate inconvenience; it transforms driving stress into coordination stress.
There is also the administrative burden of ownership that many buyers underestimate. A car is not just a vehicle; it is an asset management project. Lease payments must be tracked, insurance renewed, service appointments remembered, tyres monitored, and documents maintained. Even a low-maintenance new car carries the persistent fear that one breakdown or accident can create a large unexpected outflow. The app user, by contrast, simply pays for completed trips, no garage anxiety, no debt-linked asset stress, no renewal calendar.
Sensitivity analysis: what if the car is a lower-grade Wagon R?
The picture changes if the household opts for a lower-grade entry-level vehicle. Assume a Suzuki Wagon R or equivalent at 6 million, again with a 60% down payment of 3.6 million and a five-year lease on 2.4 million. At 14% per annum, the monthly lease instalment is approximately 55,800.
The smaller car delivers better fuel economy, around 15 km per litre. At 434 per litre, fuel cost becomes 29 per km, or 25,500 per month for 880 km. Add insurance of 7,000 and running costs of 3,000. Including opportunity cost at 9% on the 3.6 million down payment (27,000 per month), the total economic cost is 118,300 per month, 134 per km.
Now the comparison becomes more nuanced. A lower-grade Uber or PickMe alternative costs around 125 per km, or 110,000 per month for 880 km. The gap narrows dramatically: owning the Wagon R costs only 8,300 more per month, just 9 per km, compared with the app car option. The app three-wheeler at 110 per km (96,800 per month) is still materially cheaper, saving 21,500 per month against the lower-grade owned car. (See Table 1)

So, what should an urban Sri Lankan do?
If you travel alone on routine urban routes, the app three-wheeler at 110/km is the most economical option by a wide margin, saving up to 89,100 per month against a moderate owned car. Its limitation is not financial but practical: unsuitable for families, formal occasions, highway travel, and bad weather, but convenient-no stress.
For families, formal occasions, highway travel, and bad weather and convenient-no stress, Uber or PickMe Moderate car at 150/km delivers private-car comfort without the asset burden, saving 53,900 per month against the moderate owned car. The saving is if you get an economy APP car.
If you need family flexibility, late-night mobility, or privacy, ownership remains rational, but preferably through a lower-grade car around 6 million. At 134/km, the Wagon R-type car is only 9/km more than the app car alternative and 24/km more than a tuk-tuk, a gap that autonomy, family convenience, and immediate availability can legitimately justify.
Therefore, in Sri Lanka’s distorted vehicle market, with fuel at LKR434/lt, a 60% mandatory down payment, the Wagon R-type leased car remains relatively a better choice for a family with moderate earnings.
The private car still offers freedom. But in 2026 Sri Lanka, that freedom comes at very different prices. The real question is how much each household can afford to pay for autonomy, prestige, and convenience, and whether the extra 61/km for a moderate leased car, against a perfectly capable app car, or 101/km against a tuk-tuk app, represents a rational expenditure of household income. For most salaried urban commuters, the honest answer is: probably not.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe.
Views expressed in this article are personal.)
Features
Justice and democracy in Sri Lanka’s new political era
The legal processes are steadily closing in on some of the most controversial cases that have remained as open questions without closure for many years. These include the Easter Sunday bombings of 2019, the Treasury bond scam that erupted in 2015, and a range of corruption allegations that became synonymous with successive governments over the past two or more decades. What once appeared to be stalled investigations are now showing signs of movement through the courts and investigative agencies. Recent developments suggest that these long running cases are entering a decisive phase. In the Easter Sunday attacks investigation, new arrests and investigations have brought renewed attention to allegations that extend beyond the immediate perpetrators and into questions of intelligence failures and possible political complicity. The arrest and detention of former intelligence chief Suresh Sallay under the Prevention of Terrorism Act has intensified public interest in uncovering the full truth behind the attacks.
The Treasury bond scam has also re-entered the spotlight. The Supreme Court has recently overturned legal obstacles that had prevented prosecutions from proceeding and directed that the case moves forward expeditiously. This has reopened one of the most sophisticated financial scandals in the country’s recent history and brought several prominent political and financial figures back under legal scrutiny. As those implicated in these unresolved cases are leading figures from previous governments, which have spanned both sides of the political divide since Independence, it can well be imagined that there is tremendous opposition to the gradually enveloping legal processes that is both seen and unseen.
These cases that are now being investigated cut across political camps and involve individuals who occupied some of the highest offices in the country. The result is that resistance to accountability is likely to emerge from many quarters. Still to be opened are the thousands of cases of persons gone missing during the war. Presidential Commissions have been appointed with regard to them, but there has been no serious investigations of the type now taking place.
In these circumstances, it can be surmised that the government led by those who are new to power would wish to retain a maximum of power to face the pushback that is bound to emerge from those in the opposition who have wielded power for generations. The government may calculate that this is not the time to disperse authority or reduce the instruments of state power available to it. Instead, it may believe that a period of centralised control is necessary if investigations, prosecutions and reforms are to proceed without interference.
Provincial Elections
It appears that the opposition’s efforts to mobilise the people and public opinion against the government have not been successful so far. One such instance was the attempt to generate opposition to price increases. Although people have undoubtedly been affected by rising prices and economic difficulties, these efforts failed to gather significant momentum. Another attempt came when President Dissanayake predicted that opposition politicians would face imprisonment in the month of May as legal cases progressed, though this has not happened. Critics claimed that such remarks suggested an intention to influence judicial outcomes. Yet this criticism also failed to gain traction among the public. The likely reason is that public memory remains fresh. Many people continue to associate previous governments with economic mismanagement, corruption scandals, abuse of power and the eventual economic collapse. In comparison, the present government continues to enjoy a reservoir of public goodwill and credibility. As long as legal action appears to be based on evidence and proper process, the public seems prepared to give the government the benefit of the doubt.
The government’s deliberate and cautious approach to political reform that would reduce its centralised power needs to be seen in this context. The monthly approval by Parliament of the emergency regulations is justified by the government as due to the continuing need to respond to the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. However, when viewed together with the reluctance to hold provincial council elections on the grounds of electoral reform, the failure to repeal the Prevention of Terrorism Act and the postponement of constitutional reform, they all appear to reflect a preference for retaining maximum control at a politically sensitive moment. There is a logic to this approach. Governments facing major legal and political confrontations often seek stability and control. So does every despot. However, there is also a downside.
When political competition is denied to legitimate outlets, it often finds expression in confrontation, obstruction and polarisation. The advantage of prioritising the conduct of provincial council elections at this time is that it could reduce the political pressures that are building up. The main opposition parties are united in calling for these elections to be held. Conducting them would provide an opportunity for opposition political parties to obtain a measure of democratic representation and political authority at the provincial level. This would be especially true in the northern and eastern provinces, in which the ethnic and religious minorities predominate. It cannot be forgotten that the provincial council system was developed as a constructive response to the ethnic conflict. Elections at the provincial level would create opportunities for a new generation of political leaders to emerge through democratic competition rather than patronage. Many of those now facing legal scrutiny belong to an older generation to whose needs the younger may be less deferential.
Two Pillars
Another reform that could command bipartisan support is the repeal of the Prevention of Terrorism Act. The PTA has once again become controversial because it is being used in situations that extend beyond its original purpose. The detention of former intelligence chief Suresh Sallay under the Act, the continued incarceration of some Tamil detainees from the war period, and the arrest of individuals accused of speech related offences have all revived concerns regarding prolonged detention without trial and excessive executive power. The reason the PTA has been difficult to repeal is that it is closely associated with concerns regarding national security and territorial integrity. Introduced in 1979 as a temporary measure to confront the emerging separatist conflict, it survived through decades of war and has remained on the statute books long after the conflict ended.
At the same time, history shows that extraordinary powers are likely to be misused. Laws that permit detention without trial or broad executive discretion are rarely confined to their original purpose. Governments of different political parties have used such powers against opponents and critics. The temptation to do so is inherent in the possession of unchecked authority. The way forward could therefore be a combination of accountability and reform. The government should continue to support independent investigations and prosecutions in major corruption and security related cases. Demonstrating political will in this regard would strengthen public confidence in the rule of law and reinforce the principle that no individual is above the law. The PTA could be replaced with legislation that amends the Criminal Procedure Code and Penal Code in a manner that addresses legitimate security concerns while complying with democratic norms and human rights standards.
There are also international dimensions to consider. The European Union has repeatedly linked governance and human rights reforms, including reform of the PTA, to Sri Lanka’s continuing access to the GSP Plus trade concession. Progress on these issues would strengthen Sri Lanka’s international standing at a time when economic recovery remains a national priority. The government has a rare opportunity. It possesses a strong electoral mandate, public goodwill and a reputation for integrity that previous governments lacked. It can combine the pursuit of justice in long delayed cases with meaningful democratic reforms that reduce political resistance and broaden public support. At this time, accountability and power sharing are the two pillars which Sri Lankans need to be committed to build a just and democratic society for a better future without delay. Failure now would make for a long period of waiting for the next time.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Pitfalls and exclusions in academic recruitment
A public university relies on its teachers in fulfilling its responsibilities to the wider community. While teaching remains the chief responsibility of the academic staff, they also conduct research and play a central role in keeping the university a vibrant space where they and students can freely participate in conversations that concern not just routine classroom education but also society at large. The broader intellectual culture and intellectual integrity of a university thus depend on how its academics perform their functions. Therefore, universities should take the task of recruiting their academics seriously. It is important to ensure that this task is done responsibly, transparently and credibly through a fair, thorough and multi-phased evaluation process.
As both an applicant and a member of selection panels for recruitment, I hold that the recruitment procedures, currently in place in our university system, require radical reforms. Echoing some of the concerns raised by Kaushalya Perera in her Kuppi article on recruitment in March 2026, I focus on the limitations I have observed and experienced, specifically in the recruitment of Lecturer (Probationary) and Senior Lecturer positions. The article also aims to explore how these shortcomings could be addressed.
The Advertisement
Recruitment for Lecturer (Probationary) and Senior Lecturer positions is done through an open-advertisement which also involves an interview with shortlisted candidates. Advertisements are finalised in line with a template issued by the Registrar’s Office. Generally, an initial draft, prepared by the Registrar’s Office, is sent to the relevant academic departments for revisions. The revisions have to be made within the template provided, which allows space for the mention of only specialisation requirements.
It should be noted that not all revisions to the advertisement, suggested by the Department Head, are accepted in the next round. Deans, Vice Chancellors and Registrars, who have very little understanding of the disciplines associated with the position, sometimes reject the changes proposed by the Department. Technocratic in their thinking, they don’t recognise that an academic programme can be taught by persons with specialisation in another overlapping discipline. For instance, a position in English, at a university in Sri Lanka, is very well suited to not just those who have postgraduate qualifications in literary studies but also those who are from the disciplines of Applied Linguistics, Cultural Studies or Translation Studies, as these areas are taught as sub-fields of English studies at most universities in the country. These disciplinary overlaps, even when pointed out by Heads, are often overlooked by our administrators.
In place of this process, dominated by academic administrators and registrars, the advertisement should ideally emerge, from the relevant department, in the form of a comprehensive job description. It should mention the nature of the position advertised, the kind of teaching (and research) expected, how the position relates to other positions in the department, in terms of specialisation and workload, and the ways in which the recruited candidate would contribute to overall institutional development.
There can be no one-size-fits-all model when it comes to recruitment. Individual departments vary in size, strength and specialisation requirements. Departments with sizable academic staff may want to emphasise specialisation during recruitment, whereas smaller departments may prefer generalists who can handle a wide-array of courses. Specifying the rationale for the requirements included in the job description may help potential applicants get an understanding of the position advertised and the selection panel to conduct the evaluation process in a fair manner.
Review of Applications
Once applications are received, we sometimes find promising candidates but with qualifications that don’t carry in their title the name of the discipline or the department in which the position is advertised. Sometimes the disciplines or fields of specialisation that appear in the advertisement and the ones that appear in the qualifications are not identical in nomenclature, even though the research undertaken by the applicant during their graduate studies is strongly relevant to the position advertised. Even when such applications are accompanied by strong and relevant publications, our system does not view them positively. Instead, nomenclatural differences are used to reject promising candidates. Such differences are also used as a pretext when universities want to exclude a candidate for their cultural background, political beliefs or other reasons. Even if academic departments recognise such applications, at the next stage, the administrators of the university try to veto them. We lose inter-disciplinary scholars of high academic standing because of the high-handedness of university administrators.
Selection Panels
Selection panels for academic positions typically comprise the Vice Chancellor, the Dean of the Faculty, the Head of the Department, two academics nominated by the Senate and two members of the University Council. In the case of programmes/disciplines jointly housed under a single department, if the Head comes from a discipline other than the one in which the position is advertised, they may not be able to contribute in an informed manner to the recruitment process. However, some Heads refuse to appoint nominees from the relevant discipline in their place as they view sitting on selection panels as their exclusive privilege.
Sometimes university Senates do not take the appointment of Senate nominees seriously. These appointments are decided in a hurry without serious deliberations at senate meetings packed with numerous agenda items. Sometimes even if the relevant department has suitable academics to serve as Senate nominees, the Senate chooses academics from other departments or disciplines who do not have a nuanced understanding of the requirements of the position advertised and its disciplinary parameters. Sometimes specialists in the relevant discipline may not be available at a university. On such occasions, Senates tend to fill up the positions with academics from other disciplines, instead of inviting external nominees from other universities. At a state university in Sri Lanka, I was interviewed thrice for academic positions by selection panels that comprised not even one specialist from the relevant discipline.
The Marking Scheme
The marking schemes used in recruitment have their own drawbacks. Publications are sometimes evaluated for their quantity rather than quality. The opinion of the subject specialist is not sought or taken seriously when a candidate’s research is evaluated. This is why our universities are saddled with academics who engage in plagiarism or predatory publishing. The evaluation process should be tightened in such a way to bar the entry of those who lack academic integrity.
It is worrying to see that marking schemes and schemes of recruitment penalise applicants who have excelled in their graduate studies and are well-reputed for their recent research and publications just because they did not earn a first-class or second-class upper-division pass at the undergraduate level. Our narrow focus on a candidate’s first degree prevents us from giving due recognition to how that person has gained intellectual depth over the years. Some marking rubrics, which allocate points for eye-contact and posture during the interview, dilute the seriousness associated with the academic position, de-prioritise scholarship and turn the interview process into a stage performance.
Cultural Credibility
In recruitment, many universities look for cultural credibility (a term that I borrow from the work of Sulaxana Hippisley) as an unwritten requirement. Some departments are reluctant to hire applicants who are not their alumni. Some selection panels discriminate against candidates from certain ethnic or religious backgrounds. In some departments, women are rejected because they are likely to go on maternity leave or have more domestic responsibilities than men. Gender and sexual minorities have to mute and censor their identities at interviews because they are likely to face rejection if they openly declare their orientation. We have no policies and procedures in place to ensure recruitment is conducted in an inclusive way that sees diversity as a strength.
The Way-forward
When recruitment fails, the entire intellectual culture of that university takes a hit, and several generations of students are affected. Some of the current problems, related to quality in our higher education system, stem from bad recruitment policies and practices. Instead of trying to address these issues through rigorous and inclusive recruitment practices, we try to seek solutions via band-aids like quality assurance and workshops on curriculum writing and pedagogy for university academics.
In developing alternative recruitment policies and practices, we have to demand that the needs and expectations of individual departments are heard. Our selection panels should include more subject specialists than administrators and council nominees. Most of the evaluation should be completed before the interviews, and interviews should be treated as opportunities to get to know candidates in person and pose clarifying questions rather than as occasions for full-scale evaluation. We have to be open and receptive to new, inter-disciplinary scholarship and cultural, ethnic and gender diversity. If we are unwilling to introspect and bring about these reforms and revise our marking schemes, we will continue to recruit the wrong candidates and thereby fail our students and the wider community.
Mahendran Thiruvarangan is a Senior Lecturer attached to the Department of Linguistics & English at the University of Jaffna.
(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.)
by Mahendran Thiruvarangan
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