Opinion

Disguises of belief and disbelief!

Published

4 years ago

2021/07/30

A young father is bathing at the not so deep garden-well with his two kids and the bucket suddenly slips into the well. The little girls look distressed. Their dad thinks that it’s a good opportunity to have some fun at their expense. He pretends to be reflective for a few seconds and tells them that they had better let the bucket be in the well so that the fish could bathe with it! The kids seem scandalized and look at each other and at the father disbelievingly. The father enjoys his joke immensely- for a few seconds, though.

The elder kid picks up the bar of soap ingenuously and drops it into the well telling him “The fish need soap too, don’t they?” Now, it was the poor father’s turn to look dismayed- he had been too slow to have divined what she was up to. That’s hardly the climax, anyway. Down goes the towel next and the younger kid says, “Oh, don’t they need a towel too?” A visibly upset father whose sense of humour is no match for that of his progeny knows not where to put himself. True, the two scamps had looked confused at the beginning – but only for a moment. Next they pretended to believe that the fish actually needed soap and a towel, so that they could afford to have the last laugh by turning the tables on their father.

The episode narrated by a much wiser father to a sniggering audience of officemates the next day might provide comic relief to a layperson’s idle thoughts about belief and disbelief. Did the father succeed in wheedling the girls at least momentarily to visualize a weird shoal of fish bathing with a bucket? How did they, after recovering from the fleeting confusion, build on a blatant falsity to give it a preposterously logical end? Is there a neat fact/belief and fiction/disbelief pairing? Do we use trust and doubt at our own convenience to play the life’s game? Let the experts seek definitive answers. The rest of us may speculate.

Both belief and disbelief accompany us to the grave. They are not averse to sleeping in the same bed, and life is sure to be worrisome if you choose to hold on to one to the total exclusion of the other. And, each of them comes in handy every now and then. It seems as though scarcely anybody could live a normal life without judiciously shifting between these two states of mind- belief and disbelief, or, as some may call them – the twin gears for “cruising in life.” Perhaps, a person newly diagnosed with a terminal illness may find himself amidst the strongest currents of belief and disbelief; the others would navigate between the two consciously as well as unconsciously to the end.

Take children for example. They are natural skeptics and believers at once. Many parents find themselves out of their depth when their children start asking endless “why” questions about anything and everything they see, starting from things like the moon, fire, cow, puppy, shadow, wind, rain, sky or stars and moving towards “metaphysical” questions about birth, ageing, time and death. Even well-informed parents get stumped when they are called upon to explain why the moon and stars wouldn’t fall, why mommy and daddy too have to die one day or why dead people wouldn’t talk, much less wake up. Often the “explanations” need to be fashioned to suit their level of comprehension- so the parents think. The kids continue to believe in them with waning conviction as months and years roll by and sagaciously drop them in favour of more acceptable pieces for the jigsaw of their expanding “universe.”

Some kids “suspend disbelief” long before they hear of Coleridge. As children become smarter or “prematurely mature”- as some hardnosed adults may choose to describe them, they become more and more skeptical about their parents’ obviously guarded explanations on “delicate topics.” They discreetly “suspend disbelief” to avoid embarrassing their parents. Very few of them who may perhaps happen to google Coleridge later would remember that the latter’s counsel to his readers was a trick they had warily used as children to make their parents enjoy their own unimpressive “stories.” Thus, it is hardly likely that they would ever recall using the selfsame trick to optimize their harvest of goose bumps on their arms as they sat cuddled up on the lap of their grannies to listen to the adventures of the brave podi gamarala.

Feigning belief is not the exclusive preserve of children, although the two brats in the above anecdote made use of it to outsmart their father who subsequently became famous among his colleagues for his unlucky ingenuity. Clever grandparents play the same game when they readily believe that their grandchild, who suddenly gets a tummy ache on a Monday morning, is too sick to attend school. When the kid “recovers” too soon and asks for a piece of chocolate to go with the breakfast, she realizes that grandma’s credulity has a sting in the tail. The old lady wouldn’t hear of letting sick children eat sweets- she needs plenty of convincing that chocolates wouldn’t make a stomachache far worse!

Often there is little difference between feigning belief and believing- in the former you deceive the other; in the latter you deceive yourself, although you won’t often be aware of it. Take any instance where you are accustomed to taking something as a fact because you have believed in it for ages. For example, you believe that the two people whom you have called “parents” all your life are your biological parents – of course, no reason to verify unless something serious happens to make the identification necessary. So is the case with your siblings. It’s the unrivalled example of an intimate term of family relationships gradually acquiring the nuances of an established biological fact.

However, if you were to ask your “parents” to prove their parenthood, you would be considered weird or, worse still, insane. Such a doubt would surely be made to seem irrelevant and redundant by convention. However, in rare situations requiring scientific validation, such “irreverent” identification would be perfectly in order. As such, under ordinary conditions, our habitual belief as regards family relationships amounts to more or less culturally-sanctioned and convenient self-deceit. Here, what should be highlighted is that a perpetuated belief can often pass for fact leaving you to be ignorant of it all your life. Of course, many would hasten to point out that such ignorance is harmless, sure enough.

Generally, we are hardwired to believe. We believe what we see, hear, touch, smell and taste. Life would be practically impossible if we refuse to believe what our five senses communicate to us. For example, you suddenly spot a snake on your path but choose not to believe what your eyes report to you; you will immediately pay the price. In fact we have been relying so much on our physical perceptions that we hardly factor in “belief” in the transmission process. In other words, the vital role of “belief” in our sensory perceptions is taken for granted. Don’t we unconsciously provide proof of this when we say, “I could hardly believe my eyes.” As such, disbelief, with regard to physical living, is often the exception.

Faith in sensory perceptions is rarely challenged. When we look at the tree out there we ‘know’ that it is there and the question of “belief” scarcely arises. Yet, let’s take another example. Just as the tree in the garden, we “know” that there are stars in the sky, but we are told that perhaps some of them may not be there now, which immediately makes it clear to us that what we thought we knew was possibly an illusion. Only a scientific explanation of the phenomenon helps us to see our mistake.

So, we naturally take what we perceive through our senses to be a fact, and asking for proof is deemed redundant if not hilarious. However, we don’t necessarily have the same sense of complacency when it comes to responding to an explanation. For example, although we don’t ask for reasons to believe that stars are there, we ask for reasons if we were to believe astronomers when they claim that some of the stars visible now may have died out centuries ago. Thus, taking belief with a pinch of disbelief may perhaps make matters in life a little more wondrous and above all serendipitous.

Bernard Shaw is perhaps a bit too disparaging of belief when he says: “the fact that a believer is happier than a skeptic is no more to the point than the fact that a drunken man is happier than a sober one.”

Susantha Hewa

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Opinion

A national post-cyclone reflection period?

Published

13 hours ago

2025/12/10

Thilina Walpola

Security Forces cleaning a flood-hit school

A call to transform schools from shelters of safety into sanctuaries of solidarity

Sri Lanka has faced one of the most devastating natural disasters in its post-independence history. Cyclone Ditwah, with its torrential rains, landslides, flash floods, and widespread displacement, has left an imprint on the nation that will be remembered for decades. While rescue teams continue to work tirelessly and communities rush to rebuild shattered homes and infrastructure, the nation’s disaster assessment is evolving by the day. Funds from government channels, private donations, and the Sri Lankan diaspora are being mobilised and monitored with care. Humanitarian assistance—from the tri-forces and police to religious institutions and village communities—has surged with extraordinary compassion, but as in every disaster, the challenge ahead is not only about restoring physical structures; it is also about restoring the social and emotional fabric of our people for a sustainable future.

Schools on the Frontline of Recovery

The Ministry of Education is now faced with a difficult but essential question: When and how should schools reopen? The complexity of the problem is daunting. Hundreds of schools are either partially submerged, structurally damaged, or being used as temporary shelters, bridges and access roads have collapsed, and teachers and students in highly affected districts have lost family members, homes, and belongings. And yet, not all regions have suffered to the same degree. Some schools remain fully functional, while others will require weeks of rehabilitation.

The country has navigated a similar challenge before. In 2005, following the tsunami that hit mainly the coastal areas of the island, the education system faced a monumental recovery phase, requiring temporary learning spaces, psychosocial support units, and curriculum adjustments. During the COVID-19 pandemic, schools reopened in staggered phases with special protocols. International schools and private educational institutions, with greater autonomy, are likely to restart their academic calendar earlier. Regardless of whether a school belongs to the national, provincial, Pirivena, or international sector, however, education must restart sooner rather than later. The reopening of schools is not merely an administrative decision; it is a symbolic and structural step toward national healing and a restorative future for the country.

Disasters Do Not Discriminate — Neither Should Education

Just like the tsunami of 2004, the major floods of 2016, the landslides of Aranayake (2016), Meeriyabedda (2014), and Badulla (2022), and the Covid-19 pandemic (2021), the cyclone Ditwah has once again exposed the fragile but deeply profound truth that natural phenomena do not recognize distinctions created by humans. Floodwaters do not differentiate between provinces, school systems, or social classes; landslides do not check national exam results before destroying a home; and suffering does not pause to ask whether a child is from a rural Mahaweli village or an elite urban suburb.

In this context, educational institutions have a responsibility that goes far beyond exams and syllabi. This aligns profoundly with an often-cited principle of Jesuit education articulated in 2000 by Fr. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J., the former Superior General of the Society of Jesus:

Tomorrow’s whole person cannot be whole without an educated awareness of society and culture, with which to contribute socially, generously, in the real world. Tomorrow’s “whole person” must have, in brief, a well-educated solidarity… learned through “contact” rather than “concepts.” When the heart is touched by direct experience, the mind may be challenged to change. Personal involvement with innocent suffering, with the injustice others suffer, is the catalyst for solidarity which then gives rise to intellectual inquiry and moral reflection.”

In this sense, schools must guide children to process what they have witnessed—directly or indirectly—and transform these experiences into moral resilience, empathy, environmental consciousness, and collective responsibility. In doing so, one should bear in mind that every child in Sri Lanka has experienced Cyclone Ditwah in some way:

Children Who Faced the Disaster Directly:

Some children lived through the cyclone in the most harrowing ways—watching floodwaters creep into their homes, escaping rising torrents, or fleeing as landslides tore through familiar ground. Their memories are filled with the sound of rushing water, collapsing earth, and the frantic efforts of parents and neighbours, losing their family members, and trying to keep everyone safe.

Children Who Supported Frontline Families:

Others experienced the crisis through the lens of responsibility. They watched fathers, mothers, siblings, or relatives join rescue teams, distribute supplies, or help evacuate neighbours. These children carried a different kind of fear—waiting in silence, praying that their loved ones would return safely from dangerous missions.

Children Who Witnessed the Disaster Through Media:

Many encountered the cyclone from within their homes or shelters, glued to phones, televisions, and social media feeds. They saw images of villages underwater, families stranded on rooftops, frantic cries for help, boats battling fierce currents, and choppers airlifting stranded people. Even from a distance, these scenes left deep emotional imprints.

Children Who Internalised the Atmosphere of Fear:

Some were not exposed directly to images or destruction, but absorbed the tension in their households—whispered conversations, worried faces, disrupted routines, and sleepless nights. Their experience was shaped by the emotional climate around them: the uncertainty, the stress, and the unspoken fear shared by the adults they depend on.

Children Who Got Involved in Relief Efforts:

Across Sri Lanka, countless children became active participants in relief efforts—some spontaneously, others through families, schools, churches, temples, mosques, and youth groups. Individually, they helped neighbors carry belongings, comfort younger children who were frightened, fetch water and dry rations, and assist the elderly in evacuation centers. Within families, many helped prepare meals for displaced people, sorted clothing donations, packed dry-food parcels, and joined parents in visiting affected households. Through organizations, such as temples, churches, mosques, charity foundations, school associations, clubs, scout groups, Girl Guides, Sunday school units, youth groups, and student unions, children coordinated collection drives, raised funds, gathered books and uniforms for those who are affected, and volunteered at distribution points. These acts, small and large, are beacons of the nation’s hope, revealing that even a crisis as destructive as Cyclone Ditwah, Sri Lankan children were not only making meaning of suffering, but also cultivating compassion, solidarity, and shared responsibility.

In one way or another, Sri Lanka’s children have been touched by the experience. Their hearts are stirred. Their minds are open. While not all trauma comes from direct contact, indirect exposure can be equally jarring, especially for younger children; their psychological, emotional, and social well-being must be handled with sensitivity and foresight. This moment, therefore, is an educational opportunity of rare depth—if we have the courage and creativity to embrace it.

A National Post-Cyclone Reflection Period (NPCRP)?

Once schools reopen, no child should simply return to the classroom as if nothing happened. A top-down insistence on “catching up” academically without addressing emotional wounds will only store up psychological problems for the future. Instead, schools should designate an initial period for reflection, storytelling, sharing, healing, and meaning-making. Hence, a mandatory National Post-Cyclone Reflection Period (NPCRP) is not merely a “feel-good” recommendation. It draws from post-tsunami educational reforms both in Sri Lanka (2004) and in Japan (2011), WHO frameworks for psychosocial healing in schools, UNICEF guidelines on post-disaster learning environments, and our own cultural traditions of collective mourning and remembrance in Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka, villages often come together after a death for almsgivings, month-mind ceremonies, etc. Our religions—Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism—each emphasize compassion, reflective mourning, and community healing. Why should schools not embody these cultural strengths after a catastrophe that has impacted an entire nation?

(To be concluded)

(Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J., is a Jesuit priest, educator, and special assistant to the provost at Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, California, USA.).

by Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J.

Opinion

Venerable Mettavihari Denmarke passes away

Published

13 hours ago

2025/12/10

Thilina Walpola

Danish Monk

Danish Monk Who Revolutionised Digital Buddhism and World’s Buddhist Media

The Buddhist community in Sri Lanka and around the world is mourning the passing of Venerable Mettavihari Denmarke, the Danish-born monk whose pioneering work transformed the modern dissemination of Theravada Buddhism. He passed away peacefully in Denmark recently, after battling with cancer.

Born Jacub Jacobson, a Christian and a successful businessman in Denmark for more than 18 years, he was drawn to the timeless truth of the Four Noble Truths and the serenity of the Noble Eightfold Path. This spiritual awakening led him to the Buddhist Order, where he was ordained under Ven. Agga Maha Panditha Madihe Pannaseeha Maha Nayake Thera, receiving the name Bhikkhu Mettavihari.

A Life Rooted in Sri Lanka

Venerable Mettavihari first arrived in Sri Lanka in 1969 and immediately felt a deep connection to the island and its people. Inspired by the purity of the Dhamma, he made Sri Lanka his permanent home. In 1988, both he and his wife entered the Buddhist Order – he as a monk and she as a nun dedicating themselves wholeheartedly to the Sasana.

Remembered for Compassion and Humility

I was fortunate to associate with him for over 10 years on several projects. His kindness towards all living beings and his sincere practice of the Dhamma were exemplary even for monks.

I recall one occasion when he attended a full-day workshop on neuroscience and Buddhism simply to encourage me. He stayed throughout, offering blessings and support. That day the devotees responsible for bringing Dana were late, yet he asked only for a piece of bread, as he was committed to maintaining the Vinaya discipline of eating before noon.

He was often seen walking barefoot on alms rounds gentle, humble, and entirely detached from worldly comforts.

His studio was always open to me, welcoming any noble work and encouraging efforts to help people lead meaningful, wholesome lives.

He was a strict Vinaya practitioner, a monk of exceptional discipline, simplicity, integrity, compassion, loving-kindness, and empathy that were beyond imagination.

A Pioneer of Digital Buddhism

Before his ordination, Venerable Mettavihari worked in the IT field in Denmark. He used this expertise to usher Buddhism into the digital age.

Through metta.lk, he created one of the world’s earliest online Buddhist databases, digitising the Tripitaka and making it available in three languages. He also provided email services to temples and ensured that Dhammapada verses accompanied each message quietly spreading the Dhamma across the globe.

Founder of Dharmavahini – Sri Lanka’s First Buddhist TV Channel

He founded Dharmavahini, Sri Lanka’s first Buddhist television channel, run by a small team of volunteers with minimal resources. More than a broadcaster, Dharmavahini was his effort to restore forgotten values in Sri Lankan society.

Today, it remains a landmark contribution to Buddhist media.

Educational Reformer – Founder of Learn TV

After witnessing the educational challenges faced by rural children following the 2004 tsunami, Venerable Mettavihari launched Learn TV, a 24-hour educational channel developed with the Ministry of Education.

This enabled thousands of students, especially those without tuition or teachers, to receive continuous, curriculum-based lessons from home.

A Monk Who Became Sri Lankan at Heart

Fluent in Sinhala and immersed in Sri Lankan culture, he often referred to himself simply as “a Sri Lankan.” During a conversation with friends, he humorously admitted that speaking Danish had become difficult, “because I am now a Sri Lankan.”

Noble Life and a Lasting Legacy

Most Venerable Mettavihari (aged 80)

With boundless compassion and humility, he uplifted countless lives through education, media, technology, and the Dhamma.

His legacy includes:

Digitising the Tripitaka and pioneering online Buddhist resources
Establishing Dharmavahini, Sri Lanka’s first Buddhist TV channel
Launching Learn TV to uplift rural education
Advancing global Buddhist communication through IT
Strengthening moral values in Sri Lankan society

He was also an ardent supporter of the Light of Asia Foundation since its inception. He supported and guided the production of the Siddhartha movie, the establishment of the Sakya Kingdom, the International Film Festival, and, just a few months ago, he participated in the first production of a short video series on the Sutta which is currently under production and expected to be launched soon.

His life stands as a rare example of innovation, devotion, and deep spiritual conviction.

Venerable Mettavihari passed away mindfully at his home in Denmark.

His passing is a profound loss not only for Sri Lanka, but for the world.

May this noble monk attain the supreme bliss of Nibbana

Lalith de Silva
Former President, Vidyalankara Maha Pirivena Trustee, Light of Asia Foundation

Opinion

Maha Jana Handa at Nugegoda, cyclone destruction, and contenders positioning for power in post-NPP Sri Lanka – I

Published

2 days ago

2025/12/9

Sahan Weerasooriya

Maha Jana Handa rally at Nugegoda

The Joint Opposition rally dubbed the ‘Maha Jana Handa’ (Vox Populi/ Voice of the People) held at the Ananda Samarakoon Open Air Theatre, Nugegoda on 21 November, 2025 has suddenly acquired a growing potential to be remembered as a significant turning point in post-civil conflict Sri Lankan politics, in the wake of the meteorological catastrophe caused by the calamitous Ditwah cyclonic storm that devastated the whole country from north to south and east to west on an unprecedented scale. But the strength of this prospect depends on the collective coordinated success of the future public awareness raising rallies, promised by the participating opposition parties, against the incumbent JVP-led NPP government. They are set to expose what they perceive as the government’s utterly inexperienced and unexpectedly authoritarian stand on certain vitally important issues including the country’s national security and independence, political and economic stability, and the Lankan state’s unitary status. The government is also alleged to be moving towards establishing a form of old-fashioned single party Marxist dictatorship in place of the firmly established system of governance based on parliamentary democracy, which was almost toppled by the adventitious Aragalaya protest of 2022 but saved by the timely intervention of some patriotic elements.

The minefield of policy making that the government must negotiate is strewn with issues including, among others: the seven or so recent agreements or MOUs (?) secretly signed with India; the unresolved controversy over the allegedly illegal clearance of some 323 containers (with unknown goods) without mandatory Customs inspection, from the Colombo Port; the Prime Minister’s arbitrary, apparently ill-considered and hasty education reforms without proper parliamentary discussion; the proposed culturally sensitive lgbtqia+ legislation non-issue (it is a non-issue for Sri Lanka, given its dominant culture); the so-called IMF debt trap; dealing with the unfair, virtually unilateral UNHRC resolutions against Sri Lanka; the inexplicably submissive surrender of the control of the profit-making Colombo Dockyard PLC to India; some government personal assets declarations that have raised many eyebrows, and the government’s handling of anti-narcotic and anti-corruption operations. The opposition politicians relentlessly criticise the ruling JVP/NPP’s failure to come out clean on these matters. But they themselves are not likely to be on an easy wicket if challenged to reveal their own positions regarding the above-mentioned issues.

In addition to those problems, the much more formidable challenge of unsolicited foreign-power interference in Sri Lanka’s internal affairs, in the guise of friendly intervention, remains an unavoidable circumstance that we are required to survive in the geostrategically sensitive region where Sri Lanka is located. Having been active right from the departure of the British colonialists in 1948, the foreign interference menace intensified after the successful ending of armed separatist terrorism in 2009. Such external interferences are locally assisted by latent domestic communal disharmony as well as real political factionalism, both of which are normal in any democratic country.

The war-winning President Mahinda Rajapaksa, as the leader of the SLFP-led United People’s Freedom Alliance (UPFA), was made to suffer a largely unexpected electoral defeat in 2015 through a foreign-engineered regime change operation that tacitly favoured his key rival, UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe. Mahinda was betrayed by his most trusted lieutenant Maithripala Sirisena.

The SLFP, a more middle of the way socialist-leaning rival political party, was formed in September 1951—five years after the birth of the UNP—and was elected to power in 1956, ending a near decade under the rather West-friendly latter party. It was deemed to be a ‘revolution’ that started an era of ‘transition’ (from elitist to common citizen rule). From nominal independence in 1948, governing power has to date alternated between these two parties or alliances led by them, except for the last electoral year, 2024. Though incumbent Executive President Anura Kumara Dissanayake may be said to have made history in this sense, the fact remains that he was barely able to scrape just 43% of the popular vote as the head of a newly formed, JVP-led NPP. Dissanayake was sworn in as President in September 2024. But his less than convincing electoral approval triggered a massive victory for the NPP at the parliamentary election that followed in November, giving him a parliament with 159 members, which is unprecedented in Sri Lanka’s electoral history.

In my opinion, there are two main reasons for this outcome. One is that the average Sri Lankan voters trust democracy. Since the president elect is accepted as having won the favour of the majority of the pan-Sri Lankan electorate, the general public choose to forget about their personal party affiliations and tend to vote for the parliamentary candidates from the party of the elected president. This is particularly true of the majority Sinhalese Buddhist community represented by the two mainstream, non-communal national parties, the UNP and the SLFP. The brittle foundation of that victory is not likely to sustain a strong enough administration that is capable of introducing the nebulous ‘system change’ that they have promised in their manifesto, while it is becoming clear that the general performance of the government seems to be falling far short of the real public expectations, which are not identical with the unconscionable demands made by the few separatist elements among the peaceful Tamil diaspora in the West, to whom the JVP/NPP alliance seems to owe its significantly qualified electoral success in 2024.

The Maha Jana Handa reminded me of the long Janabalaya Protest March from Kandy to Colombo where it ended in a mass rally on September 5, 2018. That hugely successful event was organised by the youth wing of the SLPP led by Namal Rajapaksa, who was an Opposition MP during the Yahapalanaya. He has played the same role just as efficiently on the most recent occasion, too. At the end of his address during the Maha Jana Handa, he declared his determination to bring down the malfunctioning JVP/NPP government at the earliest instance possible. Probably, he missed Ranil’s protege Harin Fernando’s speech that came earlier. This was because Namal Rajapaksa joined the rally midway. Harin had brought a message from his mentor Ranil to be read out to the rally audience. But he said he didn’t want to do so after all, saying that it was not suitable for that moment. Anyway, during his speech, Harin said emphatically that the era of heirs apparent or crown princes was gone for good. People knew that he was alluding to Sajith Premadasa and Namal Rajapaksa (sons of former Presidents hopeful of succeeding Anura Kumara Dissanayake). Harin was seen biting his tongue or sticking it out a little as he was preparing to leave the stage at the end of his address. Was he regretting what he had just said or was he cocking a snook at what, he was sure, was Namal’s ambition that would be revealed in his speech, the rally having been organised by the Pohottuwa or the SLPP? (To be continued)

by Rohana R. Wasala