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Some anecdotes on working with President Premadasa at the Education Ministry

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With President R. Premadasa

Wishing Lalith A on his birthday and being woken up by a 4.30 am phone call by the president

President Premadasa, continued to be Minister until his tragic assassination on May 1, 1993. The hallmark of his tenure as Minister of Education and Higher Education was his strict non-interference in the day to day running of the Ministry. Very early on, he told me “Dharmasiri, you are a senior and experienced Secretary. You run the Ministry. Get the other Ministers also involved. I will hold a “Mini Cabinet” meeting once a month. In the meantime, if there is anything of a political nature you are not sure about, and about which you want some clarification, don’t bother to come and see me. Just give me a call anytime.” This is exactly how we functioned. He never disturbed and rarely did I have to disturb him either. Nor did I meet him except at the monthly meeting.

The President also did not interfere or bring any pressure to bear on the eternal question of school admissions. On just a couple of occasions when he felt constrained to send a small list, it was with specific instructions that it was to be done only if possible. The officer who brought the list emphasized this point. However, occasionally he checked you out on matters. He told me one day that he wanted to visit the National Institute of Education at Maharagama. He had never been there before. A date and time were fixed.

The visit was to take place at 9 a.m. and I was to meet him there, along with other relevant officials. But early in the morning of the appointed day, I received a telephone call from his private residence “Sucharitha” requesting me to come there at 8 a.m. and join him in his car, because he wanted to discuss some matters with me. When I went there I got the thoughtful but standard treatment of being served with a variety of short-eats followed by tea or coffee. This comes quickly, like a drill, a few minutes after you go in and sit in the waiting room.

After sometime, the security officers asked me to go and be beside the official Mercedes Benz car he was using since the President was about to come. He came out, but turned back, evidently because he had forgotten something. By that time he had seen me and he immediately turned and said “Why are you standing? Please get into the car. I will come in a moment.” That was a demonstration of great politeness on his part. But I for my part did not think it polite to get into the back seat and sit before the President got in. Therefore, I kept on standing which was only for a few moments.

Again, when he came out, he asked me “Why didn’t you sit?” Thereafter, we got in, and on the way to Maharagama he asked me a number of questions pertaining to education, especially on teacher training, curriculum development and examinations. By now, I was pretty thorough with the policies, practices and projections. and was able to answer all his questions. He was very satisfied. He thought we were on the right track. He then said something that still showed his frustration with his Ministers. He aid “I have told my Ministers several times to go out into the field and see things for themselves, and not depend on reports. But I still can’t get them to do it.”

With Senior Minister Mr. Sirisena Cooray and Minister of Education Services Mrs. Sunethra Ranasinghe

It was clear that the President thought that his Ministers were not working in the manner and at the pressure he wanted them to. With him, if you worked hard and was up to date there was no problem at all. He was courteous, polite and not difficult to work with. After all, he had the right to expect competence and performance from his Ministers and officials.

Very soon, I was faced with a difficult problem in the prevailing context. Mr. Athulathmudali’s birthday was due shortly and in some of the previous years, on his invitation, I had dropped in at his residence in order to wish him. Now, he was out of the system, in the process of forming a new party and the relations between the President and himself indescribably bad. I however felt personally sensitive to the fact that if I did not go and wish him so soon after his leaving, although I knew that he would understand, it was something that was morally reprehensible to me. It appeared to me like cowardice. I also did not like to sneak into his house in some clandestine fashion. I therefore had to tell the President. Given the existing circumstances this certainly required great courage. To my advantage was the frank nature I possessed and a complete lack of fear of authority born out of an inner confidence that I, to the best of my understanding, knowledge and experience always attempted to do the right thing.

Therefore, when a few days before Mr. Athulathmudali’s birthday, I happened to meet the President in his office on an official matter, I took the opportunity to speak with him after the meeting. I told him that Mr. Athulathmudali was my Minister in two Ministries, explained how I happened to drop in on his birthday on his invitation on previous occasions and expressed that I would be extremely unhappy if I couldn’t do it this time, particularly when he had left us only a short while earlier. I concluded by saying that I did not want to go without informing him.

The President, I could see was taken utterly by surprise. His initial reaction was “Alright.” Then when he apparently recovered his wits he said, “But can’t you telephone and wish him?” I told him to please permit me to personally go at least this time. “Thereafter I will telephone,” I said. He nodded. My friends were amazed that I had “the guts” or “the stupidity” to speak to the President on such a sensitive and to him such an unpalatable matter. In my view what stood me in good stead was the recognition on of my track record that I did everything openly. That is why he signed 11 Cabinet papers and two Supplementary Estimates blindly on the first day he came to office as Minister of Education and Higher Education. He knew that I had nothing to do with politics and that my request to visit Mr. Athulathmudali had a valid context.

As I have enumerated, my relations with President Premadasa were based on certain proprieties, such as non interference and a disciplined impersonal approach by both sides. There were times however when the relationship was not so smooth. The first blip so to speak on a clear screen came when one day I was woken up at 4.30 in the morning. It was well known that the President who got up very early started telephoning various public servants and sometimes even Ministers from about 4.30 a.m. onward. I had so far escaped this attention.

On the other hand, to me this was a fundamental issue. I always had particularly long days getting to bed only after midnight. Invariably the first telephone call to disturb the peace at home came by about 6.30 a.m., sometimes by about 6 a.m. It was clear that I desperately needed to get at least six hours of continuous sleep. If this was not possible, my health or possibly even my life could be endangered. I was also now in a situation where certain meetings, discussions and negotiations which would have been conducted by a Minister, if we had a full-time one, devolved on me, the President himself referring various matters and various groups to me.

I had discussed this whole issue with my wife and we had both agreed that minimum sleep was an absolutely bottom line. I had made up my mind that if I could not even get six hours of sleep, it would be unwise for me to continue in the public service. Matters were at this when I heard the parallel telephone line beside my bed ringing one day distantly as if in a dream. This naturally woke up my wife as well, and when I answered the phone. It was the President’s valet Mohideen, who asked me to hold on because the President wished to speak to me.

Mr. Premadasa then came on the line, and breezily wished me “good morning.” I was both still sleepy and not pleased and mumbled something which must have sounded as an unethusiastic greeting. “Did I wake you?” inquired the President knowing very well that he had indeed done so. “Yes.” I promptly replied adding “I am a late sleeper.” By this what I meant was that I sleep late and therefore get up late. He may or may not have caught the full meaning and might have thought that what I said was that I get up late. For a moment there was something like a surprised silence, followed by some nervous laughter, and then he got to the point and gave me the instructions that he wanted to give. There were nothing in them that should have warranted waking someone at 4.30 a.m. as I found out when I checked on the time after the conversation.

On the other hand I had evidently made my position clear. I concluded from the President’s tone and manner that nobody else seemed to have said what I said and certainly not in the forthright manner in which I said it. This was the last straw and I was not prepared to let it break this camel’s back. After the episode, he never rang me till after 6 a.m. and that too most infrequently. One particular day only he rang me earlier at around 5.30 a.m. ending his conversation by saying “I am going out of Colombo now.” By saying this, he was kind enough to indicate to me that that was the reason for telephoning me early.

There were occasions I argued strenuously with him although his face looked very grim when I did so. One such occasion was when he wanted to setup school boards in every school consisting of representatives of parents, teachers, past pupils and certain selected representatives of the local community. As a concept it was excellent. It would have been the beginning of involving the schools with the community instead of being totally subject to a bureaucracy. The problem was that the President wanted to set up these Boards immediately using the emergency regulations. That was his nature.

When he thought that an idea was good, he wanted it implemented from day before yesterday. I argued with him that this would be self defeating; that it would attract serious opposition; that people would see some hidden agenda in the move when in reality there was none; and that we needed a month or two of careful preparation and if possible trying it out as a pilot project in a few areas first, before going all island. The President did not agree. He did not specifically say so, but it was evident from his demeanour that he considered all these arguments as typical of a bureaucratic system’s inherent propensity for delay.

Therefore, he went ahead. Emergency regulations were gazetted. Then the flak started with a vengeance, with educationists, influential individuals, trade unions, the opposition parties, all attacking the proposal. The valuable concept of the school board was completely drowned out by the sustained attack on the emergency regulations aspect. The President was made out to be a dictator with a hidden agenda of curtailing free education in the country. Many interpreted this action as being due to coercion exercised on the government by the World Bank, which of course was a favourite whipping boy of dissidents of all hues and colours.

More the President tried to stubbornly persist in the scheme the greater the opposition grew. In the end a good scheme had at least temporarily to be abandoned. After this rather stormy episode, I found that he listened more carefully. When therefore, I telephoned and strongly advised him not to proceed with distributing some literature with a political content to the Ven. monks and lay persons who were due to gather in the main hall of the BM ICH for the 90th anniversary celebration of the oriental studies society of Sri Lanka, he somewhat reluctantly listened.

I regularly chaired the executive committee meetings of this society. In the committee too, there were scholar monks who were strongly identified with the two main political parties. We did not permit anything of apolitical nature to interfere with the scholarly work of the society. The committee functioned in great harmony. Had the President gone ahead with his scheme, I was convinced that several monks and laymen would have got up and challenged the President publicly, as to the relevance of the distributed literature to the important occasion that evening. The meeting would then have ended in disorder, with large sections shouting and walking out. In the end we had a most peaceful and harmonious meeting, with the President being so gracious as to refer to my grandfather as a founder member of the society, and my own role in carrying the work of the society forward.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Pieris)


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Relief without recovery

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A US airstrike on an Iranian oil storage facility

The escalating conflict in the Middle East is of such magnitude, with loss of life, destruction of cities, and global energy shortages, that it is diverting attention worldwide and in Sri Lanka, from other serious problems. Barely four months ago Sri Lanka experienced a cyclone of epic proportions that caused torrential rains, accompanied by floods and landslides. The immediate displacement exceeded one million people, though the number of deaths was about 640, with around 200 others reported missing. The visual images of entire towns and villages being inundated, with some swept away by floodwaters, evoked an overwhelming humanitarian response from the general population.

When the crisis of displacement was at its height there was a concerted public response. People set up emergency kitchens and volunteer clean up teams fanned out to make flooded homes inhabitable again. Religious institutions, civil society organisations and local communities worked together to assist the displaced. For a brief period the country witnessed a powerful demonstration of social solidarity. The scale of the devastation prompted the government to offer generous aid packages. These included assistance for the rebuilding of damaged houses, support for building new houses, grants for clean up operations and rent payments to displaced families. Welfare centres were also set up for those unable to find temporary housing.

The government also appointed a Presidential Task Force to lead post-cyclone rebuilding efforts. The mandate of the Task Force is to coordinate post-disaster response mechanisms, streamline institutional efforts and ensure the effective implementation of rebuilding programmes in the aftermath of the cyclone. The body comprises a high-level team, led by the Prime Minister, and including cabinet ministers, deputy ministers, provincial-level officials, senior public servants, representing key state institutions, and civil society representatives. It was envisaged that the Task Force would function as the central coordinating authority, working with government agencies and other stakeholders to accelerate recovery initiatives and restore essential services in affected regions.

Demotivated Service

However, four months later a visit to one of the worst of the cyclone affected areas to meet with affected families from five villages revealed that they remained stranded and in a state of limbo. Most of these people had suffered terribly from the cyclone. Some had lost their homes. A few had lost family members. Many had been informed that the land on which they lived had become unsafe and that they would need to relocate. Most of them had received the promised money for clean up and some had received rent payments for two months. However, little had happened beyond this. The longer term process of rebuilding houses, securing land and restoring livelihoods has barely begun. As a result, families who had already endured the trauma of disaster, now face prolonged uncertainty about their future. It seems that once again the promises made by the political leadership has not reached the ground.

A government officer explained that the public service was highly demotivated. According to him, many officials felt that they had too much work piled upon them with too little resources to do much about it. They also believed that they were underpaid for the work they were expected to carry out. In fact, there had even been a call by public officials specially assigned to cyclone relief work to go on strike due to complaints about their conditions of work. This government official appreciated the government leadership’s commitment to non corruption. But he noted the irony that this had also contributed to a demotivation of the public service. This was on the unjustifiable basis that approving and implementing projects more quickly requires an incentive system.

Whether or not this explanation fully captures the situation, it points to an issue that the government needs to address. Disaster recovery requires a proactive public administration. Officials need to reach out to affected communities, provide clear information and help them navigate the complex procedures required to access assistance. At the consultation with cyclone victims this was precisely the concern that people raised. They said that government officers were not proactive in reaching out to them. Many felt they had little engagement with the state and that the government officers did not come to them. This suggests that the government system at the community level could be supported by non-governmental organisations that have the capacity and experience of working with communities at the grassroots.

In situations such as this the government needs to think about ways of motivating public officials to do more rather than less. It needs to identify legitimate incentives that reward initiative and performance. These could include special allowances for those working in disaster affected areas, recognition and promotion for officers who successfully complete relief and reconstruction work, and the provision of additional staff and logistical support so that the workload is manageable. Clear targets and deadlines, with support from the non-governmental sector, can also encourage officials to act more proactively. When government officers feel supported and recognised for the extra effort required, they are more likely to engage actively with affected communities and ensure that assistance reaches those who need it most.

Political Solutions

Under the prevailing circumstances, however, the cyclone victims do not know what to do. The government needs to act on this without further delay. Government policy states that families can receive financial assistance of up to Rs 5 million to build new houses if they have identified the land on which they wish to build. But there is little freehold land available in many of the affected areas. As a result, people cannot show government officials the land they plan to buy and, therefore, cannot access the government’s promised funds. The government needs to address this issue by providing a list of available places for resettlement, both within and outside the area they live in. However, another finding at the meeting was that many cyclone victims whose lands have been declared unsafe do not wish to leave them. Even those who have been told that their land is unstable feel more comfortable remaining where they have lived for many years. Relocating to an unfamiliar area is not an easy decision.

Another problem the victims face is the difficulty of obtaining the documents necessary to receive compensation. Families with missing members cannot prove that their loved ones are no longer alive. Without official confirmation they cannot access property rights or benefits that would normally pass to surviving family members. These are problems that Sri Lanka has faced before in the context of the three decade long internal war. It has set up new legal mechanisms such as the provision of certificates of absence validated by the Office on Missing Persons (OMP) in place of death certificates when individuals remain missing for long periods. The government also needs to be sensitive to the fact that people who are farmers cannot be settled anywhere. Farming is not possible in every location. Access to suitable land and water is essential if farmers are to rebuild their livelihoods. Relocation programmes that fail to take these realities into account risk creating new psychological and economic hardships.

The message from the consultation with cyclone victims is that the government needs to talk more and engage more directly with affected communities. At the same time the political leadership at the highest levels need to resolve the problems that government officers on the ground cannot solve. Issues relating to land availability, legal documentation and livelihood restoration require policy decisions at higher levels. The challenge to the government to address these issues in the context of the Iran war and possible global catastrophe will require a special commitment. Demonstrating that Sri Lanka is a society that considers the wellbeing of all its citizens to be a priority will require not only financial assistance but also a motivated public service and proactive political leadership that reaches out to those still waiting to rebuild their lives.

 

by Jehan Perera

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Supporting Victims: The missing link in combating ragging

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A recent panel discussion at the University of Peradeniya examined the implications of the Supreme Court’s judgement on ragging, in which the Court recognised that preventing ragging requires not only criminal penalties imposed after an incident occurs but also systems and processes within universities that enable victims to speak up and receive support. Bringing together perspectives from law, university administration, psychology and students, the discussion sought to understand why ragging continues to persist in Sri Lankan universities despite the existence of legal prohibitions. While the discussion covered legal and institutional dimensions, one theme emerged clearly: addressing ragging requires more than laws and disciplinary rules. It requires institutions that are capable of supporting victims.

Sri Lanka enacted the Prohibition of Ragging and Other Forms of Violence in Educational Institutions Act No. 20 of 1998 following several tragic incidents in universities, during the 1990s. Among the most widely remembered is the death of engineering student S. Varapragash at the University of Peradeniya in 1997. Incidents such as this shocked the country and revealed the consequences of allowing violent forms of student hierarchy to persist. The 1998 Act marked an important legal intervention by recognising ragging as a criminal offence. The law introduced severe penalties for individuals found guilty of engaging in ragging or other forms of violence in educational institutions, including fines and imprisonment.

Despite the existence of this law for nearly three decades, prosecutions under the Act have been extremely rare. Incidents continue to surface across universities although most are not reported. The incidents that do reach university administrations are dealt with internally through disciplinary procedures rather than through the criminal justice system. This suggests that the problem does not lie solely in the absence of legal provisions but also in the ability of victims to come forward and pursue complaints.

The tragic reminders; the cases of Varapragash and Pasindu Hirushan

Varapragash, a first-year engineering student at the University of Peradeniya, was forced by senior students to perform extreme physical exercises as part of ragging, resulting in severe internal injuries and acute renal failure that ultimately led to his death. In 2022, the courts upheld the conviction of one of the perpetrators for abduction and murder. The case illustrates not only the brutality of ragging but also how long and difficult the path to justice can be for victims and their families. Even when victims speak about their experiences, they may not always disclose the full extent of what they have endured. In the case of Varapragash, the judgement records that the victim told his father that he was asked to do dips and sit-ups. Varapragash’s father had testified that it appeared his son was not revealing the exact details of what he had to endure due to shame.

More than two decades after the death of Varapragash, the tragedy of ragging continues. The 2025 Supreme Court judgement arose from the case of Pasindu Hirushan, a 21-year-old student of the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, who sustained devastating head injuries at a fresher’s party, in March 2020, after a tyre sent down the stairs by senior students struck him. He became immobile, was placed on life support, and returned home only months later. If the Varapragash case exposed the deadly consequences of ragging in the 1990s, the Pasindu Hirushan case demonstrates that universities are still failing to prevent serious violence, decades after the enactment of the 1998 Act. It was against this background of continuing institutional failure that the Supreme Court issued its Orders of Court in 2025. Among the key mechanisms emphasised by the judgement is the establishment of Victim Support Committees within universities.

Why do victims need support?

Ragging in universities can take many forms, including verbal humiliation, physical abuse, emotional intimidation and, in some instances, sexual harassment. While all forms of ragging can have serious consequences, incidents involving sexual harassment often present additional barriers for victims who wish to come forward. Victims may hesitate to complain due to weak institutional mechanisms, fear of retaliation, or uncertainty about whether their experiences will be taken seriously. In many cases, those who speak out are confronted with questions that shift attention away from the alleged misconduct and onto their own behaviour: why did s/he continue the conversation?; why did s/he not simply disengage, if the harassment occurred as claimed?; why did s/he remain in the environment?; or did his/her actions somehow encourage the accused’s behaviour? Such responses illustrate how easily victims can be subjected to a second layer of scrutiny when they attempt to report incidents. When individuals anticipate disbelief, minimisation or blame, silence may appear safer than disclosure. In such circumstances, the presence of a trusted institutional body, capable of providing guidance, protection and support, become critically important, highlighting the need for effective Victim Support Committees within universities.

What Victim Support Committees must do

As expected by the Supreme Court, an effective Victim Support Committee should function as a trusted institutional mechanism that places the safety and dignity of victims at the centre of its work. The committee must provide a safe and confidential point of contact through which victims can report incidents of ragging without fear of intimidation or retaliation. It should assist victims in understanding and pursuing available complaint procedures, while also ensuring their immediate protection where there is a risk of continued harassment. Recognising the psychological harm ragging may cause, the committee should facilitate access to counselling and emotional support services. At a practical level, it should also help victims document incidents, record statements, and preserve evidence that may be necessary for disciplinary or legal proceedings. The committee must coordinate with university authorities to ensure that complaints are addressed promptly and responsibly, while maintaining strict confidentiality to protect the identity and well-being of those who come forward. Beyond responding to individual cases, Victim Support Committees should also contribute to broader awareness and prevention efforts, within universities, helping to create an environment where ragging is actively discouraged and students feel safe to report incidents. Without such support, the process of pursuing justice can become overwhelming for individuals who are already dealing with the emotional impact of abuse.

Making Victim Support Committees work

According to the Orders of Court, these committees should include representatives from the academic and non-academic staff, a qualified counsellor and/or clinical psychologist, an independent person, from outside the institution, with experience in law enforcement, health, or social services, and not more than three final-year students, with unblemished academic and disciplinary records, appointed for fixed terms. Further, universities must ensure that committees consist of individuals who possess both expertise and genuine commitment in areas such as student welfare, psychology, gender studies, human rights and law enforcement, in line with the spirit of the Supreme Court’s directions, rather than consisting largely of ex officio positions. If treated as routine administrative positions, rather than responsibilities requiring specialised knowledge, sensitivity and empathy, these committees risk becoming symbolic rather than functional.

Greater transparency in the appointment process could strengthen the credibility of these committees. Universities could invite expressions of interest from individuals with relevant expertise and demonstrated commitment to supporting victims. Such an approach would help ensure that the committees benefit from the knowledge and dedication of those best equipped to fulfil this role.

The Supreme Court judgement also introduces an important safeguard by giving the University Grants Commission (UGC) the authority to appoint members to university-level Victim Support Committees. If exercised with integrity, this provision could help ensure that these committees operate with greater independence. It may also help address a challenge that sometimes arises within institutions, where individuals, with relevant expertise, or strong commitment to addressing issues, such as violence, harassment or student welfare, may not always be included in institutional mechanisms due to internal administrative preferences. External oversight by the UGC could, therefore, create opportunities for such individuals to contribute meaningfully to Victim Support Committees and strengthen their effectiveness.

Ultimately, the success of the recent judgement will depend not only on the directives it issued, the number of committees universities establish, or the number of meetings they convene, or other box-checking exercises, but on how sincerely those directives are implemented and the trust these committees inspire among students and staff. Laws can prohibit ragging, but they cannot by themselves create environments in which victims feel safe to speak. That responsibility lies with institutions. When universities create systems that listen to victims, support them and treat their experiences with seriousness, universities will become places where dignity and learning can coexist.

(Udari Abeyasinghe is attached to the Department of Oral Pathology at the University of Peradeniya)

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

by Udari Abeyasinghe

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Big scene … in the Seychelles

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Mirage: Off to the Seychelles for fifth time

Several of our artistes do venture out on foreign assignments but, I’m told, most of their performances are mainly for the Sri Lankans based abroad.

However, the group Mirage is doing it differently and they are now in great demand in the Seychelles.

Guests patronising the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, in the Seychelles, is made up of a wide variety of nationalities, including Russians, Chinese, French and Germans, and they all enjoy the music dished out by Mirage, and that is precisely why they are off to the Seychelles … for the fifth time!

The band is scheduled to leave this month and will be back after three weeks, but their journey to the Seychelles will continue, with two more assignments lined up for 2026.

In August it’s a four-week contract, and in December another four-week contract that will take in the festive celebrations … Christmas and the New Year.

Donald’s birthday
celebrations

According to reports coming my way, it is a happening scene at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, whenever Mirage is featured, and the band has even adjusted its repertoire to include local and African songs.

They work three hours per day and six days per week at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant.

Donald Pieries:
Leader, vocalist,
drummer

Led by vocalist and drummer Donald Pieries, many say it is his

musical talents and leadership that have contributed to the band’s success.

Donald, who celebrated his birthday on 07 March, at the Irish Pub, has been with the group through various lineup changes and is known for his strong vocals.

He leads a very talented and versatile line up, with Sudham (bass/vocals), Gayan (lead guitar/vocals), Danu (female vocalist) and Toosha (keyboards/vocals).

Mirage performs regularly at venues like the Irish Pub in Colombo and also at Food Harbour, Port City.

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