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Returning to source with Aga

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Aga

The last time I met Aga I had made up my mind to bring him a few things, stationery mostly, to help him along with his writing. His desk was a somewhat chaotic cluster of cardboard folders, containing loose sheets of paper on which had written his manuscripts – sometimes, a page would spill out onto the table and I worried how he could figure out what went where. At the centre of this celestial orbit were the party’s old weeklies and national congress reports, like a compass guiding his research.

Sadly, time got the better of us, and I never did get to refresh his stationary supply.

Aga Jayasena (15 February 1942–28 October 2025), was a communist as old as the Sri Lanka’s communist movement itself, being born less than a year before the founding of the Ceylon Communist Party (2–3 July 1943). He joined the party as a full-timer immediately after graduating from the University of Sri Jayewardenepura and cut his teeth organising peasants in Badulla and Monaragala. He recalled that he lacked the confidence to give his own speeches in his early days as an organiser, so would read aloud the articles from the communist daily Aththa. A lifelong learner, communicator, and educator, he soon found a place in the party’s central committee, politburo, education department, and as a national organiser.

I first saw Aga, and heard him speak, at the launch of his book on Frederick Engels. I was impressed but a little intimidated, he seemed to me quite stern and serious that day! It was only earlier this year that I picked up the courage to call him to do a series of interviews on his perspectives on the history of communist movement in Sri Lanka. My initial estimation of him was quite wrong, he was extremely warm and welcoming. Ah, Shiran! No point talking on the phone, come and meet me in person. After a few false starts, mainly due to his health, we met at his home in Pelawatte. Flipping through my notes, and listening to the recordings, I realise how unstructured these conversations were. We spoke for hours about various elements from history. But throughout, he was patient, kind, and analytical.

The following are some elements of what we discussed, including my own reflections and research based on the points he raised.

What stage are we in?

In his last days, Aga had thrown himself into the movement’s history to try and understand how the present came to be. He was busy writing his memoirs, including his reflections on the history of party, some of which were quite critical. In our discussions, he was emphatic about the efforts by founding leaders S. A. Wickramasinghe and M. G. Mendis to build the trade union and cooperative movements. The struggles in the trade union movements – especially the conflicts with A. E. Gunasinghe’s Ceylon Labour Party, which had taken a communal and collaborationist turn, during the strikes at the Wellawatte Spinning and Weaving Mills – pre-dated the founding of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP). Similarly, when the communists were expelled from the LSSP in 1940, Wickramasinghe and his comrades first spent time building up the mass organisations – the Ceylon Trade Union Federation (CTFU) was established in 1941. The party had to come out of the movement, not the other way around.

For Aga, this was the key. He was critical, though not dismissive, of the penchant for conjuring up programmes on which to base a coalition. Having a programme was all good and well, but a programme needed to be creative and original, it had to identify the social forces that would propel the programme forward – who would be included and excluded in such a programme? In his words, a programme needed a “vehicle” – the mass organisations. He was strongly of the opinion that the communist movement needed to descend once again into the working class to rejuvenate itself and rebuild this vehicle.

Aga was also particular about the key theoretical questions. He asked: “What stage of the revolution are we in?” and “Is there a national question?” The questions were open ended, as if he knew the multiple-choice answers that lay before but was unsure which was correct in the current conjuncture. One thing was certain; more study was needed. But the movement lacked intellectuals of the calibre that once existed. And the tide of day-to-day crises and electoral compulsions pulled the movement ever forward, with scarcely a moment to pause, reflect, and evaluate.

Colombo to Cochin

Aga’s reading of the party’s beginnings in the working-class movement made him think about the role of Malayali workers in Ceylon. The CCP’s first mass base was among the Malayali workers. There were about 40,000 Malayalis in Ceylon by the 1940s, and around 2700 Malayali toddy tappers were organised by the CTFU-affiliated All-Ceylon Toddy Workers. In fact, the CCP itself was the product of a union between its predecessor the United Socialist Party, and the largely Malayali-based Ceylon Socialist Party. The first CCP constitution, adopted in 1944, specified that the flag should have the party’s name inscribed “in the Sinhalese, Tamil, Malayalam or English language as the case may be”. Similarly, the party’s first publications were quadrilingual – Forward (English), Janasakthi (Sinhala and Tamil), and Navasakthi (Malayalam). Columns in right-wing papers like Times of Ceylon used to derisively refer to the CCP as ‘Malayali comrades’.

Ceylonese communist ties to India were not limited to their organising the workers domiciled in Ceylon. The founders themselves had intimate connections with the Indian freedom movement – nurtured during periods of study in London and visits to India itself. In London, Wickramasinghe associated closely with Indian freedom fighter, and independent India’s first High Commissioner to the United Kingdom, V. K. Krishna Menon – the two organised a conference on ‘Socialism in India and Ceylon’. Wickramasinghe later travelled to India during the Meerut trial, and for a while lived alongside Sabarmati Ashram Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Then there is Buddhist monk Udakandala Sri Saranankara Thero, who studied in Santiniketan, the residential school established by Rabindranath Tagore. In India, Saranankara Thero, learned Bengali, became involved with the Indian freedom movement, and met Subhas Chandra Bose in prison.

But as independence came, efforts turned inwards towards national construction, and contradictions arose over citizenship, borders, markets, and so on. For the communists, the main international capital became the Soviet Union, which alone had the economic strength to maintain an internationally supportive network. Thus, bilateral relationships with neighbouring fraternal parties were deprioritised compared to the relationship with the Soviet Union, which served as the movement’s Mecca.

Aga wondered why that relationship with the Indian movement, particularly in Kerala, wasn’t nurtured more by both sides. Just across the Palk Straits, and over the Western Ghats, lay Kerala, which had democratically elected communists to power in 1959 (interestingly, the dismissal of this government by Nehru, with CIA-backing, occurred just months before the assassination of S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike). There are many parallels between Kerala and Sri Lanka. At the time of independence, both were plantation economies, with an underdeveloped industrial bourgeoisie and proletariat, and a dependency on food imports. Like Sri Lanka, Kerala was one of the last places on the subcontinent for a communist party cell to be formed – E. M. S. Namboodiripad attributed this to the relative underdevelopment of Kerala’s modern industries, a conclusion that may well be applied to Sri Lanka too.

Aga’s point intrigued me. Why were there no greater exchanges between the Sri Lankan and Keralite movements? Could there not have been exchanges of cadres for political education, and mutual translation of literature and poetry? Could Sri Lankan cadres not have been sent on fact-finding missions to Kerala’s vast cooperatives networks, community libraries, and healthcare centres? These questions may seem idealistic but they are very well worth asking given the close historical, cultural, and geographical links between the two polities.

Following Aga’s lead, my research led me to an interesting figure. P. Sankar was a Malayali trade unionist and founding member of the CTFU (where he was the vice president and assistant secretary), editor the CCP’s Malayalam weekly Navasakthi, and a CCP central committee member from 1943 to 1952. Sankar returned to India in 1952 – I am not sure the circumstances but it seems likely that the Ceylonese government’s policies against Indian immigrants must have played a role. Once back in Kerala, Sankar joined the Communist Party of India and was elected to the Kerala Legislative Assembly from Chittur in 1977. He died in 1991. Did he ever stay in touch with comrades in Sri Lanka?

I don’t think Aga was being Indo-centric or an Indophile when he suggested closer relations with the Indian movement. His point was that the conditions in India were far more similar to Sri Lanka than the distant Soviet Union. He argued that Sri Lankan communist youth were eager to go and study in the Soviet Union (an arrangement that evolved into a paternalistic relationship for the party) but what they learnt could not always be easily applied to Sri Lanka. I don’t know if he felt this way about his own time at the Academy of Social Science in Moscow. The Soviet Union certainly helped produce a great many Sri Lankan bureaucrats and public servants (for example, Dr. Anil Jasinghe, the health ministry secretary who helped lead the campaign against the COVID-19 pandemic, is a product of Soviet education) but not enough revolutionaries with original thinking. Aga was making an argument rooted in Sri Lankan reality.

Cream of the Crop

One memento I have from Aga is a copy of the Draft Political Report for the Eight National Congress of the Ceylon Communist Party (20–24 August 1972). The faded copy, its pages yellowed, sits on my desk as I type this. Between 1964 and 1972, a period of eight years, there were no national congresses held. Up to then, this was perhaps the longest period without a party congress. This was especially significant because it was a turbulent and transformative few years for the party, the left movement, and the country as a whole.

In 1964, the party had split along the Sino-Soviet fissure, N. Sanmugathasan took with him much of CTFU, the editors of the Sinhala and Tamil press, the peasant front organiser, and several youth front leaders. Thought its electoral impact may have been small, it was a significant blow to the unity of the mass organisations and the ideologically committed mid-level cadre. Then in 1965, Shan’s own party split, with the young Rohana Wijeweera peeling off the youth-wing and beginning to proselytise among rural educated Sinhala youth (Aga was one of those personally approached by Wijeweera) to establish the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP).

Also in 1964, the United Left Front (ULF), consisting of the LSSP, CCP, and Philip Gunawardena’s Mahajana Eksath Peramuna, collapsed due to the LSSP breaking ranks to accept a cabinet position in the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) government led by Sirimavo Bandaranaike. After decades of factionalism, the ULF had been virtually compelled to form due to unprecedent united trade union action leading to the formation of the Joint Committee of Trade Union Organisations in 1963.

Reflecting on the watershed collapse of the short-lived ULF, Aga said, “people let go of us”.

The centre-right government that took power in 1965 was the first to borrow from the International Monetary Fund. There was a renewed urgency for unity among progressive forces. By 1970, the long mooted LSSP-CCP-SLFP alignment finally came to fruition, and this United Front won the elections by a landslide. But the CCP was blocked from obtaining more than one ministerial position (the Ministry of Housing and Reconstruction held by Pieter Keuneman).

Then, in 1971, came the JVP insurrection. Aga recalled the turbulent conjuncture of that time – the assassination of Che Guevara in Bolivia in 1966 and the independent Tricontinental line of Cuba, the US war on Vietnam and the killing of Buddhist monks, and the proliferation of literature by Kim Il Sung translated into Sinhala. The insurrection shook the Old Left, which was completely taken aback by the violence. The deeply ingrained notion that there were no conditions for armed struggle in Sri Lanka were challenged. “The big question was why we didn’t see this coming”, Aga said.

Aga admitted a “soft corner” for the JVP of 1971. He was of the same generation of Rohana Wijeweera (born in 14 July 1943). He spoke of that generation in an almost bittersweet and rueful tone – they were the “cream”, he said, who could have been a powerful force for social transforma

He had just returned to the country after his political education in the Soviet Union, and communist youth all around the country were in ferment. Aga spoke as if whether he ended up on side or the other was a flip of the coin. After all, like many communists of his age, he had comrades on both sides.

In 1973, the Soviet-wing of the CCP split, a faction led by Wickramasinghe crossed over to the opposition (this group included Sarath Muttetuwegama, Aththa editor H. G. S. Ratnaweera, as well as a young Aga and D. E. W. Gunasekera). A faction led by Keuneman remained with Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s government. There were a range of reasons for this split, including the disagreement with the heavy-handed way in which the government had dealt with the JVP insurgents and the use of Criminal Justice Commissions (CJC) Act, No. 14 of 1972, which allowed evidence that would have been inadmissible under the normal procedures. This crucial period intrigued Aga. Some historical accounts claim that the Soviet embassy intervened to patch up ties between the two factions in 1976. Aga intimated that this didn’t happen on equal ground – the Soviets had “closed the tap” of financial support to Wickramasinghe’s faction.

I tend to speculate that Wickramasinghe, without the support of intellectual stalwarts – like P. Kandiah (died in 1960), G. V. S. De Silva (left the party in 1959), and Sanmugathasan and Kumarasiri (who formed the Peking faction in 1964) – perhaps lacked the theoretical confidence to mount a challenge to the Soviet-Keuneman line, and felt isolated. But that is purely my speculation. It is interesting that Sanmugathasan’s Memoirs of an Unrepentant Communist (1989) expresses venom towards Keuneman, but a reverence towards Wickramasinghe. Similarly, Kumarasiri wrote in his later years that Wickramasinghe – not Philip Gunawardena, who later allied with the UNP – was the person who came closest to deserving the title ‘Father of Socialism’ in Sri Lanka. Wickramaisnghe didn’t leave behind any memoirs, so we may never truly know his story.

I think Aga was drawn to the 1972 Draft Political Report because he felt the text contained within it some of the contradictions brewing in the party since the 1960s, and especially after the 1970 coalition and 1971 insurrection. The copy I have is in English and is missing ten pages. Some passages have been marked with a pencil, but I am not sure if this was done by Aga himself, since he would have surely read the Sinhala version instead. Here is one of the marked paragraphs:

“The Party entered the United Front without fully working out the relationship between its own programme and that of the United Front. In the absence of independent campaigns for the party programme, there was a certain ideological confusion in some party ranks and also its development and continuation of diverse ideological trends. This also created confusion among the politically advanced non-party sections, leading to doubts in their minds as to the revolutionary character of the CP. The neglect of the ideological struggle also contributed to the above.”

We Have no Mechanism

My first interview with Aga was about four months into the presidency of Anura Kumar Dissanayake (AKD) and the National People’s Power (NPP) government. Aga had an open mind about the NPP when we met. That said, he maintained it was not clear which way the government would go, and if and how the government would break from the neoliberal framework. He acknowledged that there had been a series of missed opportunities for détente between the JVP and the Communist Party of Sri Lanka over the last decade – most notably, during the joint-struggle to prevent the privatisation of Colombo Port’s East Container Terminal.

Aga understood the NPP’s decision to continue with the IMF programme, and felt it wise for the NPP to not rock the boat too much. Not because he endorsed the IMF programme but because he must have felt that the balance of power was strongly tilted in favour of the bondholders and local merchant capitalists, who could make the economy scream by withholding foreign currency, hoarding commodities, downgrading credit ratings, and so on.

He was also sympathetic to the fact that the NPP was walking into a collapsed state machinery. His choice of words, in Sinhala, still echoes in my mind – “අපිට යාන්ත්‍රණයක් නැහැ”, we have no mechanism. He felt the NPP’s first budget, constrained by the IMF’s conditions, was unable to satisfy any specific sector, but he was appreciative of the allocations towards the estate sector and the north and east. In general, he was appreciative of the NPP’s electoral gains in the north, but was critical of their lack of clarity on solving the national question. He felt that the provision of economic services and infrastructure alone would not be enough to sidestep the political question.

Aga was clearly in a nostalgic mood the times I met him. His mind kept drifting back to the fighters from history, many of whom did not leave behind any memoirs and who are not memorialised by those who remain. He wondered why his generation (the second generation of communists) never thought to sit and interview the first generation at length before they died. Tears came to his eyes as he spoke of A. Vaidialingam, one of the founders of the CCP, who few speak of today. “Vaidialingam was to the north, what Wickramasinghe was to the south”, Aga said. With Aga’s passing, that lineage is almost broken – so much of our movement’s history remains unwritten.

The last message I have from Aga is a voice note in appreciation of a talk I gave on the Bandung Spirit at the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies earlier this year. In our interviews, he was often pensive and introspective, so it is nice to have a recording of his voice sounding so animated.

Aga’s passing strikes us just two months ahead of the 90th anniversary of the founding of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party – the beginning of the socialist movement in Sri Lanka. I hope that, like Aga, others in the left will take the time to reflect upon the past 90 years of struggle and write these histories. Not just to bask in the glories of the past, but to regain a sense of self, a confidence in our ideas and original aspirations, and a grounding to forge a way ahead.

(Shiran Illanperuma is a researcher at Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research and a co-editor of Wenhua Zongheng: A Journal of Contemporary Chinese Thought. He is a co-convenor of the Asia Progress Forum).

by Shiran Illanperuma



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Opinion

The Rule of Law from a Master of the Rolls and Lord Chief Justice of England

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These last few months have given us vivid demonstrations of the power of the Rule of Law. A brother of the reigning monarch in Great Britain has been arrested by the local police and questioned. This is reported to be the first time since 1647 (Charles I) that a person so close in kin to the reigning monarch was arrested by the police in England. An ambassador of the United Kingdom who also was a member of the House of Lords has been questioned by the police because of alleged abuse of office. In US, the Supreme Court has turned back orders of a President who imposed new tariffs on imports into that might trading nation. A nation that was made by law (the Constitution) again lived by the rule of law and not by the will of a ruler, so avoiding the danger of dictatorship.

In Sri Lanka, once high and mighty rulers and their kith and kin have been arrested and detained by the police for questioning. A high ranking military official has been similarly detained. Comments by eminent lawyers as well as by some cantankerous politicians have cited the services rendered by these worthies as why they should be treated differently from other people who are subject to the rule of laws duly enacted in that land. In Sri Lanka governments, powerful politicians and bureaucrats have denied the rule of law by delaying filing cases in courts of law, until the physical evidence is destroyed and the accused and witnesses are incapacitated from partaking in the trial. These abuses are widely prevalent in our judicial system.

As the distinguished professor Brian Z. Tamanaha, (On the Rule of Law, 2004.) put it “the rule of law is ‘an exceedingly elusive notion’ giving rise to a ‘rampant divergence of understandings’ and analogous to the notion of Good in the sense that ‘everyone is for it, but have contrasting convictions about what it is’. The clearest statement on the rule of law, that I recently read as a layman, came in Tom Bingham (2010), The Rule of Law (Allen lane). Baron Bingham of Cornhill was Lord Chief Justice of England from 1996 until his retirement. For the benefit of your readers, I reproduce a few excerpts from his short book of 174 pages.

“Dicey (A.V.Dicey, 1885) gave three meanings to the rule of law. ‘We mean, in the first place… that no man is punishable or can be made to suffer in body or goods except for a distinct breach of law established in the ordinary legal manner before the ordinary courts of the land.’…If anyone -you or I- is to be penalized it must not be for breaking some rule dreamt up by an ingenious minister or official in order to convict us. It must be for proven breach of the established law and it must be a breach established before the ordinary courts of the land, not a tribunal of members picked to do the government’s bidding, lacking the independence and impartiality which are expected of judges.

” We mean in the second place, when we speak of ‘the rule of law’ …..that no man is above the law but that every man, whatever his rank or condition, is subject to the ordinary law of the realm and amenable to the ordinary tribunals.’ Thus no one is above the law, and all are subject to the same law administered in the same courts. The first is the point made by Dr Thomas Fuller (1654-1734) in 1733: ‘Be you ever so high, the law is above you.’ So, if you maltreat a penguin in the London Zoo, you do not escape prosecution because you are Archbishop of Canterbury; if you sell honours for a cash reward, it does not help that you are Prime Minister. But the second point is important too. There is no special law or court which deals with archbishops and prime ministers: the same law, administered in the same courts, applies to them as to everyone else.

“The core of the existing principle is, I suggest, that all persons and authorities within the state, whether public or private, should be bound by and entitled to the benefits of laws publicly made, taking effect (generally) in the future and publicly administered in the courts. … My formulation owes much to Dicey, but I think it also captures the fundamental truth propounded by the great English philosopher John Locke in 1690 that ‘Wherever law ends, tyranny begins’. The same point was made by Tom Paine in 1776 when he said ‘… in America THE LAW IS KING’. For, as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other.’

“None of this requires any of us to swoon in adulation of the law, let alone lawyers. Many people occasion share the view of Mr. Bumble in Oliver Twist that ‘If the law supposes that ….law is a ass -a idiot’. Many more share the ambition of expressed by one of the rebels in Shakespeare’s Henry VI, Part II, ‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. ….’. The hallmarks of a regime which flouts the rule of law are, alas, all too familiar: the midnight knock on the door, the sudden disappearance, the show trial, the subjection of prisoners to genetic experiment, the confession extracted by torture, the gulag and the concentration camp, the gas chamber, the practice of genocide or ethnic cleansing, the waging of aggressive war. The list is endless. Better to put up with some choleric judges and greedy lawyers.”

Tom Bingham draws attention to a declaration on the rule of law made by the International Commission of Jurists at Athens in 1955:

 =The state is subject to the law;

 =Government should respect the rights of individuals under the Rule of Law and provide effective means for their enforcement;

 =Judges should be guided by the Rule of Law and enforce it without fear or favour and resist any encroachment by governments or political parties in their independence as judges;

 =Lawyers of the world should preserve the independence of their profession, assert the rights of an individual under the Rule of Law and insist that every accused is accorded a fair trial;

The final rich paragraph of the book reads as follows: ‘The concept of the rule of law is not fixed for all time. Some countries do not subscribe to it fully, and some subscribe only in name, if that. Even those who subscribe to it find it difficult to subscribe to all its principles quite all the time. But in a world divided by differences of nationality, race, colour, religion and wealth it is one of the greatest unifying factors, perhaps the greatest, the nearest we are likely to approach to a universal secular religion. It remains an ideal, but an ideal worth striving for, in the interests of good government and peace, at home and in the world at large.’

by Usvatte-aratchi ✍️

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Opinion

Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective

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I wish to congratulate Prof. Keerawella, for having undertaken this mammoth task of seeking to capture, from ‘a global south perspective’, the multiple facets of scholarship of International Relations. He has, as always, been meticulous in his research, and also lucid in conveying to the reader, complex ideas and their interconnections, in an uncomplicated way. I am not in the habit of encouraging taking shortcuts, particularly with my students around – but if pressed, here is a book, with references to every major scholar in the 7 areas identified, in 440 pages, at a modest price.

We are honoured that the Prime Minister graced this occasion, and thankful for her inspiring words. She has left much food for thought – which I am hopeful our students will consider engaging with, as they proceed with their presentations and dissertations.

This is the 7th book, in fact the 3rd authored or co-authored by Prof. Keerawella, published under the auspices of the BCIS, over the past couple of years. It is a reflection of BCIS’s continuing commitment to bring into the public domain, quality academic literature that benefits both scholars and Sri Lankan students who pass through these halls and beyond. I want to commend President Kumaratunga, for through the BCIS, continuing to support the publication of such texts, at a time individually doing so is prohibitive and also more costly to the buyer, and the Bandaranaike Memorial National Foundation (BMNF) for making this possible.

Turning to the volume launched today (24 Feb), in ‘Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective’, at the outset, Prof. Keerawella makes clear that a Global South perspective is not simply a matter of geographical focus; it is an epistemic stance that seeks to recover marginalised voices, experiences, and knowledge that have long been silenced or subordinated in mainstream discourse. He goes on to emphasise that, the choice of the phrase “a Global South Perspective” is deliberate. It signals an awareness that there is no single, homogeneous standpoint from which the Global South speaks’. To speak of a perspective, then, is to situate this volume’s argument within that broader, evolving mosaic—to offer one possible articulation among many, without claiming representational authority over them. Prof. Keerawella emphasises, it is an invitation to dialogue, not a declaration of orthodoxy.

As is customary by a reviewer, I intend to take up Prof. Keerawella’s ‘invitation to dialogue’ and commencsation in the latter part of this presentation, but first let me outline the valuable insights contained in this Book, as an appetiser.

The first chapter on IR Theory, points out – in each of the ‘isms’, ingredients as it were, that could contribute to a better understanding of the ‘Global South’. Here he highlights Raúl Prebisch and Andre Gunder Frank’s ‘dependency theory’, Neta Crawford’s ‘normative constructivism’, Sanjay Seth’s ‘Decolonial Critique’ and Amitav Acharya’s concept of ‘Global IR’ as having advanced a reformist, yet transformative agenda for the discipline. He observes that, “Collectively, their respective projects of rethinking, decolonizing, and globalizing International Relations illuminate how the Global South can contribute to the field not merely as a repository of empirical cases, but as a source of conceptual reflection and theoretical innovation”.

The second chapter which examines the transformation of International Security Studies, by foregrounding the lived insecurities of the Global South—ranging from poverty and structural violence to environmental vulnerability and social fragility, demonstrates why concepts such as human security gained salience as corrective and complementary frameworks, concerning the global south.

The third chapter pays analytical attention to the dynamics of regionalism with special focus on South Asia and the experience of the SAARC. It calls for reimagining regional cooperation in South Asia beyond rigid institutional templates, advocating for inclusive, flexible, and people-centered modalities rooted in the specific political and social realities of the Global South.

The fourth chapter addresses international organisations and international regimes as central pillars of contemporary global governance, with particular attention to their implications for the Global South. The chapter reveals how Global South states have simultaneously been constrained by inherited governance structures and mobilized collective strategies to contest inequities and assert greater voice.

The fifth chapter which focuses on Foreign Policy Analysis (FPA), situates it within a rapidly evolving global environment shaped by globalisation, technological transformation, and the Fourth Industrial Revolution, paying particular attention to the strategic choices made by Global South states.

The sixth chapter traces the long historical arc of diplomatic practice, demonstrating how modes of representation, negotiation, and cooperation have evolved in response to changing political, social, and technological contexts. From a Global South perspective, the chapter underscores both the opportunities and constraints of particularly science diplomacy.

In the final chapter, Prof. Keerawella discusses the notion of national self-determination.
He underscores its contradictions in theory, and its praxis in the post-Cold War context, tracing the ways in which self-determination has been invoked and contested in modern international relations.

Besides joining a very small league of international scholars (some already referred to) who have dared to challenge Western theoretical approaches in the study of IR and sub-fields and emphasised the need for an alternative ‘Global South’ reading, Prof. Keerawella becomes the first Sri Lankan to do so in any considered manner. His volume is also rare, in that in general, few Sri Lankans have sought to engage with and contribute to the theoretical literature of International Relations and Foreign Policy. His book has the additional advantage of being released at a time ‘International Relations’ – as we have been taught it and understood it, is under severe strain to explain contemporary developments in a conceptual and theoretical manner, and there is a serious vacuum to be filled, not just in understanding, but in order to change the currentpredicament.

While the book reaffirms the ‘global south’ as a certain collective sentiment, assembling many of the conceptual building blocks and empirical insights necessary for its articulation, what it leaves to us is the task of synthesising these elements into a coherent and operational set of principles that can foster a unified front amongst the Global South, despite the vast diversity of the actors and states involved.

While I have no disagreement with Prof. Keerawella’s starting premise and end goal of the desirability of having ‘a Global South Perspective’ in the areas under study, however, as an observer and practitioner of international relations for most of my professional life since 1980
– 9 years as a journalist, 33 years as a diplomat, and post-retirement, and over 4 years from the vantage point of running IR and Strategic Studies focused institutions, while also teaching, and engaging in my own research, I do encounter some difficulty, and lament that operationally little has or is being done, to evolve a strategy that addresses the shortcomings so carefully pointed out in Prof. Keerawella’s book.

Looking back, I do not see a single cohesive ‘Global South’ consistently in play. Rather, I see a multitude of ‘Global Souths’ –depending on the issue, competing opportunistically and often working at cross purposes, and all eventually getting played out by the continuing structural heft of the ‘Global North’.

This is no fault of Prof. Keerawella, or of the rich ingredients he brings together in this volume. Rather, it reflects the political reality that the‘Global South’ recipe has not yet been fully translated into an appetising dish.

I am no chef, and time does not permit me to elaborate from the different vantagespoints
I have experienced it from – but I do believe there is a compelling case that could be made for action, which needs serious reflection and attention.

To put it another way, without making value judgements on the rights and wrongs of the respective action, I wish to pose two sets of questions, confining myself to events of the past 4 years or so;

First, what did the ‘Global South’ do in the cases of Ukraine since 2022, of Gaza since 2023, of Sudan since 2023, on actions in the South-China Sea in recent times, following the imposition of ‘Reciprocal Tariffs’ throughout 2025, or in the case of Venezuela last month?

*  Did they speak together?

*  Did they vote together?

*  Did they fight together?

Similarly, second, what will the ‘Global South’ do, God forbid, if there is to be a conflict on Iran, Cuba, the Panama Canal, Morocco-Algeria, DRC-Rwanda, or Taiwan, tomorrow?

*  Will they speak together?

*  Will they vote together?

*  Will they fight together?

If I were to play devil’s advocate, I would be tempted to ask: if these coalitions neither speak, vote, nor act together, what kind of analytical and normative work can the category ‘Global South’ realistically achieve? Rather than assuming a unity that does not yet exist, how might we need to refine it?

To this end, I wish to posit, that the category of ‘Global South’ could be analytically more useful, if, as Max Weber suggested, it be used as an ‘ideal type’ – that might not be realized, but must be sought to be approximated.’Global South’ functions best as a Max Weber-inspired ‘ideal type’: an abstract model used not as a description of an existing state, but as a heuristic tool to clarify the degree to which specific regions approximate or diverge from its core characteristics.

Such an approximation cannot merely be imagined; it has at least to be attempted in practice.

What I am suggesting is not utopian. Historically, there is precedent that has been realized by the Non-Aligned group of countries – which by no means perfect, but was effective in its heyday duringthe 1960s, 1970s, and early 1980s. Unfortunately, rather than being reformed and modified at the end of the Cold War, it has been tossed away.

Admittedly, those were different times, but for purposes of encouraging the dialogue and debateProf. Keerawella wanted us to have stemming from his book, and in order to draw inspiration, let me suggest 4 factors that made Non-Alignment work as an operational strategy, while it did;

*  There was a clearer ‘Framework of Operation’ – the Non-Aligned MOVEMENT, which incidentally in this year we commemorate the 50th anniversary of the hosting of the 5th Summit in Sri Lanka in 1976 at this very venue the BMICH.

*  There was also a clear ‘Other’ – the cold War driven Western alliance on the one hand, and the Warsaw pact countries, which had competing ideologies–and which broadly Non-Aligned countries preferred not to emulate in toto.

*  There was further an alternate Politico-Economic and Legally grounded Agenda – which saw expression through the UN Special Session on Disarmament, an operationally stronger UNCTAD, and a international legal regimethe UN Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), inwhich NAM countries played crucial roles.

*  There was also ‘a like-minded collective leadership’ – which, spare a few, more often than not, dared to demonstrate objectivity between the West and the East – and resisted being unquestioning followers. Though they might not have been loved by the ‘West’, or for that matter by the ‘East’, but they were broadly respected by both.

While newer formations such as the G77, the BRICS, the SCO, alongside regional groupings such as the RCEP, the ASEAN, the AU, the GCC, and BIMSTEC have sought to fill this space, they remain, at best, partial substitutes, lacking the normative coherence and political solidarity that characterized the early NAM efforts that resulted in effective collective action demands.

It is ironic, that at a time when the ‘Global North’ is in disarray, and some its own constituents have made bold to say that this is not a “transition” but a “rupture” of the US-led rules-based international order, that there is no cohesive ‘Global South’ alternative.

The real question before the ‘Global South’ today should be, as to what conditions and mechanism could lead us to position ourselves better, to consolidate such a collective, and most importantly whether there is the political will to do so?

If not, we must at least be honest about current limits – that many states with even some capacity, are compelled to hedge, while those without meaningful leverage remain largely ‘bystanders’ in the global order.

However, if we recognize that this situation is not tenable and that we wish to serve a higher cause, we should do something about it and try to create ‘sufficient conditions’ that could more actively and tangibly approximate ‘a Global South’- which can ‘bracket’ its differences, find unity in what is most important, and avoid the temptation of flirting for temporary gain or glory.

This is the thought I wish to leave you with today in the hope that, as envisaged by Prof. Keerawella, this volume will not be the last word on ‘a Global South perspective’, but a starting point for precisely the kind of critical, self-reflective conversation that can turn it into a more grounded, plural, and effective practical programme and call to action.

Speech delivered by
by Ambassador (Retd.)
Ravinatha Aryasinha,

former Foreign Secretary and Executive Director, Regional Centre for Strategic Studies (RCSS), at the launch of

Prof. Gamini Keerawella’s book ‘Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective’,

at the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies (BCIS), Colombo on 24 February 2026)

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Opinion

The J.R. I Disliked — A Review of Courage, Candour and Historical Balance

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The latest addition to the “Historic Thoughts” series by the J. R. Jayewardene Centre arrives with a provocative title: The J.R. I Disliked by Imthiaz Bakeer Markar. Yet beneath its seemingly adversarial framing lies a reflective and intellectually honest reassessment of one of Sri Lanka’s most consequential political figures — J. R. Jayewardene.

This publication, based on a commemorative lecture, is not merely a memoir fragment. It is a political meditation on leadership, ideological evolution, and the necessity of historical sobriety in a time when public discourse is often driven by caricature rather than careful analysis.

Candour as Political Virtue

What immediately distinguishes Markar’s lecture is its rare tone of sincerity. He openly recalls that, as a young activist, he seconded a proposal to expel Jayewardene from the United National Party — a confession that gives the work unusual credibility. In Sri Lankan political culture, where retrospective loyalty often replaces honest memory, such candour is refreshing.

Markar’s narrative demonstrates a crucial democratic lesson: political disagreement need not devolve into permanent enmity. His recollection of Jayewardene’s magnanimity — promoting a former critic based on merit rather than loyalty — reveals a statesman confident enough to transcend factional bitterness. This alone makes the publication politically instructive for a generation accustomed to zero- sum politics.

Beyond the Right–Left Caricature

One of the most valuable contributions of this text is its implicit challenge to the simplistic labeling of Jayewardene as merely a “right-wing” leader. A careful reading of Jayewardene’s own parliamentary interventions supports this reassessment.

As early as the 1940s, he warned:

“We are suffering due to an administrative system established and protected by foreign rulers… Until we are freed from this imperialist and capitalist administrative system, we will not… resolve the serious issues we face.”

This is not the language of doctrinaire capitalism. Nor was Jayewardene drawn to orthodox Marxism. Instead, his political philosophy reflected what may best be described as a pragmatic middle path — informed, arguably, by Buddhist political ethics that molded his own life.

He himself signaled this balance when he insisted Sri Lanka must learn from global systems without surrendering autonomy. His famous reply to U.S. pressure over the rubber-rice trade remains instructive:

“We do not compromise our independence in exchange for aid… from the United States or any other country.”

In an era when small states again face geopolitical bargaining pressures, this principle retains striking relevance.

Architect of Transformative Pragmatism

Markar is at his strongest when recounting Jayewardene’s political resilience. The rebuilding of the UNP after the 1956 defeat, the strategic patience during opposition years, and the eventual 1977 mandate illustrate what John F. Kennedy called “discipline under continuous pressure.”

Historically, Jayewardene’s policy legacy is too significant to be reduced to partisan memory. His role in:

· opening the economy

· establishing free trade zones

· expanding irrigation and electrification

· strengthening free education through textbooks and Mahapola

· modernising communications and infrastructure collectively altered Sri Lanka’s development trajectory.

Critics may debate the social costs of liberalisation, but no serious historian can deny the structural transformation that followed 1977. Markar rightly reminds us that many revenue streams and institutional pathways Sri Lanka relies on today originated in that reform moment.

The Independence Question Revisited

Perhaps the most intellectually compelling sections of the lecture revisit Jayewardene’s pre-independence thought. His insistence — alongside D. S. Senanayake — that Ceylon’s participation in World War II must be tied to a guarantee of freedom reveals remarkable foresight.

Equally revealing is his humanistic vision:

“Landlessness, poverty and hunger cannot be eradicated… until every vestige of foreign rule is swept away… so that English, Indian, Dravidian, etc. can work hand-in-hand.”

Here we see a leader whose nationalism was not exclusionary but developmental and pluralist — a nuance often lost in contemporary polemics.

International Realism Without Subservience

Markar’s discussion of the 1951 San Francisco Peace Conference is particularly important for younger scholars. Jayewardene’s invocation of the Buddhist maxim “Nahi verena verani” in defence of Japan’s dignity was not rhetorical flourish; it was strategic moral diplomacy.

Likewise, his firm response to foreign pressure over Sri Lanka’s trade choices demonstrates a foreign policy posture that was neither isolationist nor submissive — but sovereignly pragmatic.

In today’s multipolar uncertainty, Sri Lanka could profit from revisiting this calibrated realism.

The Necessary Balance

To his credit, Markar does not canonise Jayewardene. He acknowledges criticisms — authoritarian tendencies, the referendum extension, media tensions. This intellectual honesty strengthens rather than weakens his overall argument.

History, after all, is not served by hagiography.

Yet the broader point of the publication — and one I strongly endorse — is that Sri Lanka’s public discourse has too often magnified Jayewardene’s flaws while neglecting the scale of his statecraft. Serious scholarship demands proportionality.

Why This Book Matters Now

At a time when historical study in Sri Lanka risks being flattened by partisan narratives and social-media simplifications, The J.R. I Disliked performs a valuable civic function. It models three urgently needed habits:

Intellectual humility

— the willingness to revise earlier judgments Political generosity — recognising merit across factional lines Historical balance — weighing achievements alongside failures

For younger Sri Lankans especially, the work is a reminder that national development is rarely the product of ideological purity. It is, more often, the outcome of pragmatic adaptation — something Jayewardene understood deeply.

Final Assessment

This slim publication succeeds precisely because of its honesty. Markar’s journey from youthful critic to reflective admirer mirrors the maturation Sri Lanka’s own political analysis must undergo.

Whatever one’s partisan position, the evidence remains compelling: Jayewardene was among the most consequential executive leaders in our post-independence history — a statesman who sought, with notable pragmatism, to position Sri Lanka for social, economic and international advancement.

If this volume encourages a new generation to study his record with intellectual seriousness rather than inherited prejudice, it will have performed a national service.

And in that sense, the “J.R. he once disliked” may yet become the J.R. a thoughtful nation learns to understand more fully.

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