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Counting the Cost: A President’s Legacy at Risk

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By Kusum Wijetilleke

kusumw@gmail.com

Twitter: @kusumw

Sleep-walking Towards Tragedy

About 9,185 Sri Lankans had succumbed to Covid-19 as at 1st September. There are extraordinary scenes around the country with patients spilling out of overwhelmed hospitals. A widely circulated video shows patients lined up on the floor along corridors of the Colombo North Teaching Hospital in Ragama. There were emergency purchases of medical oxygen from India in May and reporting suggests that at present, Sri Lanka faces an acute shortage of ICU beds.

As the health system reaches breaking point, there is an inescapable feeling that Sri Lanka has lost control of a situation that many saw coming. The data from India and many other countries was clear; B.1.617.2 also known as the Delta variant would soon arrive preparations and precautions were necessary to protect the public.

Leading up to and during the Sinhala/ Tamil New Year period, medical experts were calling for a lockdown to at least delay the inevitable spread of the Delta variant. At the time, total deaths in Sri Lanka stood at just over 600, the daily death toll was in single digits. Community spread of the Delta variant was first officially reported in Sri Lanka on the 18th of June. The destructive April spike in India was ample evidence of its severity. The medical community had been consistent: the Delta variant was more aggressive and more transmissible.

Unfortunately for many thousands of Sri Lankans, the preservation of human life had to be subordinated to the more urgent priority of keeping open an ailing economy to serve what is ostensibly the greater, national good. During his most recent national address, while the walls continued to close in on the citizenry, the President requested “everyone in the country to be prepared to make more sacrifices…” There was no empathy for sacrifices already made, no sign of compassion given the tragic loss of life.

Speaking to the media on the 13 August, Executive Director of the Institute for Health Policy, Dr. Ravindra Rannan-Eliya stated that based on current projections, the death toll in Sri Lanka could surpass 20,000 by end 2021. He also pointed to the rate of double vaccinations at the time, which was around 10%; far too low to make a significant difference to the overall transmission rate. He further stated that Sri Lanka was at the lower end of the spectrum when it came to test and trace capabilities.

Only a few weeks later, Sri Lanka has been able to rapidly increase the fully-vaccinated rate to 30%, a testament to the efficiency of the Sri Lankan military and their 24-hour country-wide vaccination centres. Thanks to these efforts, Sri Lanka today has a far better rate of full vaccination than many other lower-middle income countries; Bangladesh (3.8%), Egypt (2%), Indonesia (12%), Pakistan (6%), Kenya (1.5%), Iran (5%), India (10%).

However, in a fast moving global pandemic, timing is everything. While vaccination rates increase, case numbers and deaths continue to surge as well. As Dr. Rannan-Eliya points out, Sri Lanka lags behind some peer group countries when it comes to testing volumes and capacity. Daily tests per million in Sri Lanka were around 500 going into the final week of August. India (1,384), Iran (1,159), Vietnam (1,644) and the Philippines (520) are all testing at higher rates than Sri Lanka.

For context on just how dire the situation in the country currently is, over the seven days leading up to 30th August 2021, Sri Lanka had the fifth highest deaths per million in the world, at 54. The only countries worse off over those seven days were Botswana (57), Eswatini (64), North Macedonia (72) and Georgia (102).

Priorities: Public Health or Politics?

Through a quite exceptional vaccination drive, the military has provided significant cover for the government’s many missteps at crucial junctures. Most countries suffered high numbers of casualties during the initial months of the pandemic in 2020, yet Sri Lanka had one of the lowest death rates in the world at the time. At no point in 2020 was Sri Lanka’s health infrastructure at risk of being overwhelmed. President Gotabaya Rajapaksa declared victory against the pandemic, questioning why Sri Lanka was not being recognised as a model nation in this regard. Indeed by April 2020, the Global Response to Infectious Disease (GRID) Index by CMA Australia ranked Sri Lanka’s pandemic response as the 9th best in the world.

Colombo is not Dhaka or New Delhi; Sri Lanka’s dense urban populations are not of the same intensity or frequency as many other nations in the South-East Asian Region. Given the head start Sri Lanka enjoyed throughout 2020, there was much that could have been done going into 2021. Total deaths as at 31st December 2020 stood at 204, which given the current death toll is an indicator of just how poorly the pandemic has been managed since the turn of the year.

The current lockdown was not so much a decision taken by the government, but a decision forced upon it by a chorus of critics. Last week, the WHO’s Independent Technical Expert Group in Sri Lanka, consisting of some 14 specialists from the medical field including Dr. Padma Gunaratne, Prof. Saroj Gunaratne and Prof. Neelika Malavige, called for extending the lockdown and increasing restrictions within it. The group pointed to a study from Monash University, which calculated that locking down until 18 September would help save 7,500 lives.

Throughout 2020, Sri Lanka wasted valuable time and spent resources elsewhere instead of building the necessary test-trace-isolate infrastructure that many medical experts, including Dr. Rannan-Eliya, had been calling for. Instead there was a general election, major constitutional changes and political theatre morphing in to a scarcely believable telenovela about dynasty. International borders were opened, then closed and reopened again. At one point after the reopening of borders, Russian and Ukrainian tourists arrived in the country while case numbers and deaths in those respective nations were surging.

Vaccine Procurement: Too Little, Too Late

Despite these evidently sub-optimal decisions, Sri Lanka still had every opportunity to get ahead of the global curve. A revealing piece by Attorney-at-Law Dr. Gehan Gunatilleke laid out some startling facts pertaining to the timeline and process of vaccination procurement in early 2021.

Sri Lanka’s National Medicine Regulatory Authority (NMRA) approved the Covishield vaccine manufactured by Serum Institute India (SII), on the 22nd of January 2021. Cabinet approval was granted a few days later and on the 28th of January Sri Lanka received its first batch of 500,000 doses as a donation from India due to its ‘neighbourhood first’ policy.

The first purchased batch of 500,000 Covishield vaccines only arrived on the 25th of February, almost a month later. This crucial delay seems to have been caused by switching from a pre-authorised local agent to the State Pharmaceutical Corporation (SPC). Considering that NMRA approval was obtained by the local agent in January, the Government could have placed an immediate order with SII and received a large shipment by early February. Everything was in place for such an order until the need arose for SPC involvement.

Some reports claim that SII had requested procurement through the SPC, however as per Dr. Gunatilleke the NMRA report made no mention of this and further, SII had already delivered 5 million doses to Bangladesh through a local agent in January. Was it the Sri Lankan authorities that required SPC involvement? A fresh approval needed to be obtained by the SPC which meant going through the entire procurement process again including obtaining approval for the purchase agreement.

A Cabinet briefing revealed that the price per dose of Covishield was $5.25; Sri Lanka would eventually pay $15 per dose for the Sinopharm vaccine. In an article dated 19th February, the Hindustan Times quoted Indian officials as stating that Sri Lanka’s State Pharmaceutical Corporation had signed an order for 10 million doses which SII had set aside for Sri Lanka.

In a separate report from June 2021, Attorney-at-Law Ranil Angunawela stated: “In our opinion, if Sri Lanka was already receiving donations of an NMRA-approved vaccine by January 28, 2021, and the price of a dose of the said vaccine was predetermined, there is no further impediment in the procurement guidelines that prevent a ‘very urgent and exceptional’ procurement order to be placed within days of NMRA approval,” said Angunawela.

Cabinet approval for the procurement of Covishield through SPC was granted on the 22nd of February and the first purchased batch of 500,000 doses arrived on the 25th. The nearly one month delay left Sri Lanka at the mercy of unforeseeable externalities; a fire at the SII manufacturing facility was compounded by a serious spike in cases in India, leading to a temporary ban on exports of Covishield.

The facts point to a missed opportunity: had Sri Lanka taken delivery of a significant order of vaccines anytime during February, several thousands of Sri Lankans could have been saved from the Delta variant. Another point to consider: why did the Government not diversify its risk on vaccine procurement; was there an over-reliance on the Serum Institute of India and Covishield?

In the Public Interest

Decisions on public health have been coloured by economic and political considerations. Throughout much of 2021, the message has been clear; human lives are important but not as important as the economy. Health issues are important, just not as important as cultural considerations such as the traditional New Year or the Esala Perahera. The President is under pressure to call for an independent report into vaccine procurement but he must go further and consider the totality of Sri Lanka’s response to the pandemic, specifically public health policy and economic stabilisation and stimulus measures.

It is safe to say that the only aspect of Sri Lanka’s response that can be considered an unmitigated success is the vaccination drive. Questions remain over almost every other facet of the Government’s response. Vaccine procurement and pricing aside, were necessary investments made to expand ‘test-trace-isolate’ facilities? Were adequate measures taken to increase the number of ICU beds and Heavy-Dependency Units (HDUs)? Were there early orders of medical oxygen supplies, C-PAP machines and ventilators? Did the Government consider anti-viral therapeutics like Hydroxychloroquine or Ivermectin, which India has approved? Did the administration prioritize the elderly who make up the lion’s share of hospitalizations and deaths? Were lockdowns introduced in a timely manner with adequate time provided for citizens to plan and prepare themselves?

Given the sacrifices made by Sri Lankans, given the state of the economy and the growing death toll, the President must realise his legacy is now at stake.



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Own the car or let the App drive?

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The real cost of daily travel in urban Sri Lanka

For many middle-class Sri Lankans, the private car still carries connotations of stability, dignity, and upward mobility. Yet in today’s Sri Lanka, with petrol at Rs. 434 per litre, following the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation’s revision, effective 30 May, 2026, loan-to-value ratios tightened to 40% requiring a 60% down payment, and ride-hailing apps now joined by app-based three-wheelers, the question of whether to own a car has become sharper than ever. The answer is not emotional but economic: for ordinary day-to-day travel, is it actually cheaper and wiser to own a car, or to let the app do the work?

Take a generic urban Sri Lankan commuter making a 40 km daily round trip to office and back, with routine errands built in. That is about 880 km a month across 22 working days. At that level of usage, the arithmetic becomes surprisingly clear: for a large group of moderate urban users, app-based mobility, whether a car or a three-wheeler, is financially smarter than owning a car, unless the non-financial benefits of ownership matter deeply enough to justify the premium.

The Sri Lankan distortion:

cars cost too much

In most developed economies, cars are consumer durables. In Sri Lanka, they behave more like luxury financial assets. A moderate vehicle, such as a Toyota Raize or Honda Civic, often costs several times what a comparable car would in a developed market, once taxes, import restrictions, and scarcity are priced in.

Assume a moderate privately used car priced at 10 million. Under the Central Bank’s current 40% LTV directive, the buyer may borrow only 40% against the vehicle’s value, requiring a 60% down payment of 6 million and a five-year lease on the remaining 4 million. At a typical Sri Lankan leasing rate of 14% per annum, the monthly lease instalment comes to approximately 93,000. A moderate petrol vehicle averages around 12 km per litre in urban traffic. At Rs. 434 per litre, fuel cost alone is  36 per km, or 31,800 per month for 880 km. Add insurance of 12,000 and a conservative 4,000 for routine running costs, and total cash outgoings reach approximately 140,800 per month.

But cash outgoings alone understate the true cost. The 6 million down payment, if invested elsewhere at 9% per annum, would generate approximately 45,000 per month in foregone return. Adding this opportunity cost, the full economic cost of the moderate car rises to 185,900 per month, or 211 per km.

The app alternatives: car or three-wheeler

Urban Sri Lankan commuters today have many distinct app-based mobility options, each serving different journey types and comfort preferences.

Uber and PickMe (car hire): A premium car hire through Uber or PickMe costs approximately 150 per km. For 880 km of monthly travel, that comes to 132,000 per month. Compared with the moderate owned car at 185,900, the app saves 53,900 per month, or 61 per km. On purely financial terms, the app wins decisively.

App-based three-wheelers: App-based three-wheelers currently charge approximately 110 per km. For 880 km, that is 96,800 per month, saving 89,100 per month and 101 per km compared with the moderate owned car. The tuk-tuk app is the most economical of the three mobility options for short urban trips, though clearly unsuitable for highway travel, poor weather, carrying passengers in formal settings, however, it represents a compelling financial case.

Non-financial advantages of ownership

Transport decisions are never purely accounting exercises. A private car offers privacy, immediate availability, flexibility, and family utility in ways that no app can fully replicate. With your own car, you can leave when you want, stop when you want, change route mid-journey, carry files or groceries without thought, respond to emergencies, and avoid the uncertainty of waiting for a driver to accept your ride. It also becomes a family coordination tool: school drop-offs, medical visits, elderly passengers, unplanned errands, and weekend travel all become easier. In psychological terms, ownership buys autonomy. No app-based alternative, whether car or three-wheeler, provides that.

The hidden burden of car ownership and app limitations

Yet the same car creates stress. Urban Sri Lankan driving is rarely relaxing. Congestion is exhausting, lane discipline is weak, and parking is a recurring headache. Every daily driver absorbs cognitive fatigue that accumulates invisibly over months.

Uber and PickMe remove the burden of driving, fuelling, and servicing. But they introduce their own friction: waiting times, driver cancellations, surge pricing during peak hours or rain, and inconsistent vehicle quality. App three-wheelers add further constraints, limited luggage capacity, exposure to weather, and social context limitations. The app does not eliminate inconvenience; it transforms driving stress into coordination stress.

There is also the administrative burden of ownership that many buyers underestimate. A car is not just a vehicle; it is an asset management project. Lease payments must be tracked, insurance renewed, service appointments remembered, tyres monitored, and documents maintained. Even a low-maintenance new car carries the persistent fear that one breakdown or accident can create a large unexpected outflow. The app user, by contrast, simply pays for completed trips, no garage anxiety, no debt-linked asset stress, no renewal calendar.

Sensitivity analysis: what if the car is a lower-grade Wagon R?

The picture changes if the household opts for a lower-grade entry-level vehicle. Assume a Suzuki Wagon R or equivalent at 6 million, again with a 60% down payment of 3.6 million and a five-year lease on 2.4 million. At 14% per annum, the monthly lease instalment is approximately 55,800.

The smaller car delivers better fuel economy, around 15 km per litre. At 434 per litre, fuel cost becomes 29 per km, or 25,500 per month for 880 km. Add insurance of 7,000 and running costs of 3,000. Including opportunity cost at 9% on the 3.6 million down payment (27,000 per month), the total economic cost is 118,300 per month, 134 per km.

Now the comparison becomes more nuanced. A lower-grade Uber or PickMe alternative costs around 125 per km, or 110,000 per month for 880 km. The gap narrows dramatically: owning the Wagon R costs only 8,300 more per month, just 9 per km, compared with the app car option. The app three-wheeler at 110 per km (96,800 per month) is still materially cheaper, saving 21,500 per month against the lower-grade owned car. (See Table 1)

So, what should an urban Sri Lankan do?

If you travel alone on routine urban routes, the app three-wheeler at 110/km is the most economical option by a wide margin, saving up to 89,100 per month against a moderate owned car. Its limitation is not financial but practical: unsuitable for families, formal occasions, highway travel, and bad weather, but convenient-no stress.

For families, formal occasions, highway travel, and bad weather and convenient-no stress, Uber or PickMe Moderate car at 150/km delivers private-car comfort without the asset burden, saving 53,900 per month against the moderate owned car. The saving is if you get an economy APP car.

If you need family flexibility, late-night mobility, or privacy, ownership remains rational, but preferably through a lower-grade car around 6 million. At 134/km, the Wagon R-type car is only 9/km more than the app car alternative and 24/km more than a tuk-tuk, a gap that autonomy, family convenience, and immediate availability can legitimately justify.

Therefore, in Sri Lanka’s distorted vehicle market, with fuel at LKR434/lt, a 60% mandatory down payment, the Wagon R-type leased car remains relatively a better choice for a family with moderate earnings.

The private car still offers freedom. But in 2026 Sri Lanka, that freedom comes at very different prices. The real question is how much each household can afford to pay for autonomy, prestige, and convenience, and whether the extra 61/km for a moderate leased car, against a perfectly capable app car, or 101/km against a tuk-tuk app, represents a rational expenditure of household income. For most salaried urban commuters, the honest answer is: probably not.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe.

Views expressed in this article are personal.)

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Justice and democracy in Sri Lanka’s new political era

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The legal processes are steadily closing in on some of the most controversial cases that have remained as open questions without closure for many years. These include the Easter Sunday bombings of 2019, the Treasury bond scam that erupted in 2015, and a range of corruption allegations that became synonymous with successive governments over the past two or more decades. What once appeared to be stalled investigations are now showing signs of movement through the courts and investigative agencies. Recent developments suggest that these long running cases are entering a decisive phase. In the Easter Sunday attacks investigation, new arrests and investigations have brought renewed attention to allegations that extend beyond the immediate perpetrators and into questions of intelligence failures and possible political complicity. The arrest and detention of former intelligence chief Suresh Sallay under the Prevention of Terrorism Act has intensified public interest in uncovering the full truth behind the attacks.

The Treasury bond scam has also re-entered the spotlight. The Supreme Court has recently overturned legal obstacles that had prevented prosecutions from proceeding and directed that the case moves forward expeditiously. This has reopened one of the most sophisticated financial scandals in the country’s recent history and brought several prominent political and financial figures back under legal scrutiny. As those implicated in these unresolved cases are leading figures from previous governments, which have spanned both sides of the political divide since Independence, it can well be imagined that there is tremendous opposition to the gradually enveloping legal processes that is both seen and unseen.

These cases that are now being investigated cut across political camps and involve individuals who occupied some of the highest offices in the country. The result is that resistance to accountability is likely to emerge from many quarters. Still to be opened are the thousands of cases of persons gone missing during the war. Presidential Commissions have been appointed with regard to them, but there has been no serious investigations of the type now taking place.

In these circumstances, it can be surmised that the government led by those who are new to power would wish to retain a maximum of power to face the pushback that is bound to emerge from those in the opposition who have wielded power for generations. The government may calculate that this is not the time to disperse authority or reduce the instruments of state power available to it. Instead, it may believe that a period of centralised control is necessary if investigations, prosecutions and reforms are to proceed without interference.

Provincial Elections

It appears that the opposition’s efforts to mobilise the people and public opinion against the government have not been successful so far. One such instance was the attempt to generate opposition to price increases. Although people have undoubtedly been affected by rising prices and economic difficulties, these efforts failed to gather significant momentum. Another attempt came when President Dissanayake predicted that opposition politicians would face imprisonment in the month of May as legal cases progressed, though this has not happened. Critics claimed that such remarks suggested an intention to influence judicial outcomes. Yet this criticism also failed to gain traction among the public. The likely reason is that public memory remains fresh. Many people continue to associate previous governments with economic mismanagement, corruption scandals, abuse of power and the eventual economic collapse. In comparison, the present government continues to enjoy a reservoir of public goodwill and credibility. As long as legal action appears to be based on evidence and proper process, the public seems prepared to give the government the benefit of the doubt.

The government’s deliberate and cautious approach to political reform that would reduce its centralised power needs to be seen in this context. The monthly approval by Parliament of the emergency regulations is justified by the government as due to the continuing need to respond to the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. However, when viewed together with the reluctance to hold provincial council elections on the grounds of electoral reform, the failure to repeal the Prevention of Terrorism Act and the postponement of constitutional reform, they all appear to reflect a preference for retaining maximum control at a politically sensitive moment. There is a logic to this approach. Governments facing major legal and political confrontations often seek stability and control. So does every despot. However, there is also a downside.

When political competition is denied to legitimate outlets, it often finds expression in confrontation, obstruction and polarisation. The advantage of prioritising the conduct of provincial council elections at this time is that it could reduce the political pressures that are building up. The main opposition parties are united in calling for these elections to be held. Conducting them would provide an opportunity for opposition political parties to obtain a measure of democratic representation and political authority at the provincial level. This would be especially true in the northern and eastern provinces, in which the ethnic and religious minorities predominate. It cannot be forgotten that the provincial council system was developed as a constructive response to the ethnic conflict. Elections at the provincial level would create opportunities for a new generation of political leaders to emerge through democratic competition rather than patronage. Many of those now facing legal scrutiny belong to an older generation to whose needs the younger may be less deferential.

Two Pillars

Another reform that could command bipartisan support is the repeal of the Prevention of Terrorism Act. The PTA has once again become controversial because it is being used in situations that extend beyond its original purpose. The detention of former intelligence chief Suresh Sallay under the Act, the continued incarceration of some Tamil detainees from the war period, and the arrest of individuals accused of speech related offences have all revived concerns regarding prolonged detention without trial and excessive executive power. The reason the PTA has been difficult to repeal is that it is closely associated with concerns regarding national security and territorial integrity. Introduced in 1979 as a temporary measure to confront the emerging separatist conflict, it survived through decades of war and has remained on the statute books long after the conflict ended.

At the same time, history shows that extraordinary powers are likely to be misused. Laws that permit detention without trial or broad executive discretion are rarely confined to their original purpose. Governments of different political parties have used such powers against opponents and critics. The temptation to do so is inherent in the possession of unchecked authority. The way forward could therefore be a combination of accountability and reform. The government should continue to support independent investigations and prosecutions in major corruption and security related cases. Demonstrating political will in this regard would strengthen public confidence in the rule of law and reinforce the principle that no individual is above the law. The PTA could be replaced with legislation that amends the Criminal Procedure Code and Penal Code in a manner that addresses legitimate security concerns while complying with democratic norms and human rights standards.

There are also international dimensions to consider. The European Union has repeatedly linked governance and human rights reforms, including reform of the PTA, to Sri Lanka’s continuing access to the GSP Plus trade concession. Progress on these issues would strengthen Sri Lanka’s international standing at a time when economic recovery remains a national priority. The government has a rare opportunity. It possesses a strong electoral mandate, public goodwill and a reputation for integrity that previous governments lacked. It can combine the pursuit of justice in long delayed cases with meaningful democratic reforms that reduce political resistance and broaden public support. At this time, accountability and power sharing are the two pillars which Sri Lankans need to be committed to build a just and democratic society for a better future without delay. Failure now would make for a long period of waiting for the next time.

by Jehan Perera

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Pitfalls and exclusions in academic recruitment

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Academic recruitment

A public university relies on its teachers in fulfilling its responsibilities to the wider community. While teaching remains the chief responsibility of the academic staff, they also conduct research and play a central role in keeping the university a vibrant space where they and students can freely participate in conversations that concern not just routine classroom education but also society at large. The broader intellectual culture and intellectual integrity of a university thus depend on how its academics perform their functions. Therefore, universities should take the task of recruiting their academics seriously. It is important to ensure that this task is done responsibly, transparently and credibly through a fair, thorough and multi-phased evaluation process.

As both an applicant and a member of selection panels for recruitment, I hold that the recruitment procedures, currently in place in our university system, require radical reforms. Echoing some of the concerns raised by Kaushalya Perera in her Kuppi article on recruitment in March 2026, I focus on the limitations I have observed and experienced, specifically in the recruitment of Lecturer (Probationary) and Senior Lecturer positions. The article also aims to explore how these shortcomings could be addressed.

The Advertisement

Recruitment for Lecturer (Probationary) and Senior Lecturer positions is done through an open-advertisement which also involves an interview with shortlisted candidates. Advertisements are finalised in line with a template issued by the Registrar’s Office. Generally, an initial draft, prepared by the Registrar’s Office, is sent to the relevant academic departments for revisions. The revisions have to be made within the template provided, which allows space for the mention of only specialisation requirements.

It should be noted that not all revisions to the advertisement, suggested by the Department Head, are accepted in the next round. Deans, Vice Chancellors and Registrars, who have very little understanding of the disciplines associated with the position, sometimes reject the changes proposed by the Department. Technocratic in their thinking, they don’t recognise that an academic programme can be taught by persons with specialisation in another overlapping discipline. For instance, a position in English, at a university in Sri Lanka, is very well suited to not just those who have postgraduate qualifications in literary studies but also those who are from the disciplines of Applied Linguistics, Cultural Studies or Translation Studies, as these areas are taught as sub-fields of English studies at most universities in the country. These disciplinary overlaps, even when pointed out by Heads, are often overlooked by our administrators.

In place of this process, dominated by academic administrators and registrars, the advertisement should ideally emerge, from the relevant department, in the form of a comprehensive job description. It should mention the nature of the position advertised, the kind of teaching (and research) expected, how the position relates to other positions in the department, in terms of specialisation and workload, and the ways in which the recruited candidate would contribute to overall institutional development.

There can be no one-size-fits-all model when it comes to recruitment. Individual departments vary in size, strength and specialisation requirements. Departments with sizable academic staff may want to emphasise specialisation during recruitment, whereas smaller departments may prefer generalists who can handle a wide-array of courses. Specifying the rationale for the requirements included in the job description may help potential applicants get an understanding of the position advertised and the selection panel to conduct the evaluation process in a fair manner.

Review of Applications

Once applications are received, we sometimes find promising candidates but with qualifications that don’t carry in their title the name of the discipline or the department in which the position is advertised. Sometimes the disciplines or fields of specialisation that appear in the advertisement and the ones that appear in the qualifications are not identical in nomenclature, even though the research undertaken by the applicant during their graduate studies is strongly relevant to the position advertised. Even when such applications are accompanied by strong and relevant publications, our system does not view them positively. Instead, nomenclatural differences are used to reject promising candidates. Such differences are also used as a pretext when universities want to exclude a candidate for their cultural background, political beliefs or other reasons. Even if academic departments recognise such applications, at the next stage, the administrators of the university try to veto them. We lose inter-disciplinary scholars of high academic standing because of the high-handedness of university administrators.

Selection Panels

Selection panels for academic positions typically comprise the Vice Chancellor, the Dean of the Faculty, the Head of the Department, two academics nominated by the Senate and two members of the University Council. In the case of programmes/disciplines jointly housed under a single department, if the Head comes from a discipline other than the one in which the position is advertised, they may not be able to contribute in an informed manner to the recruitment process. However, some Heads refuse to appoint nominees from the relevant discipline in their place as they view sitting on selection panels as their exclusive privilege.

Sometimes university Senates do not take the appointment of Senate nominees seriously. These appointments are decided in a hurry without serious deliberations at senate meetings packed with numerous agenda items. Sometimes even if the relevant department has suitable academics to serve as Senate nominees, the Senate chooses academics from other departments or disciplines who do not have a nuanced understanding of the requirements of the position advertised and its disciplinary parameters. Sometimes specialists in the relevant discipline may not be available at a university. On such occasions, Senates tend to fill up the positions with academics from other disciplines, instead of inviting external nominees from other universities. At a state university in Sri Lanka, I was interviewed thrice for academic positions by selection panels that comprised not even one specialist from the relevant discipline.

The Marking Scheme

The marking schemes used in recruitment have their own drawbacks. Publications are sometimes evaluated for their quantity rather than quality. The opinion of the subject specialist is not sought or taken seriously when a candidate’s research is evaluated. This is why our universities are saddled with academics who engage in plagiarism or predatory publishing. The evaluation process should be tightened in such a way to bar the entry of those who lack academic integrity.

It is worrying to see that marking schemes and schemes of recruitment penalise applicants who have excelled in their graduate studies and are well-reputed for their recent research and publications just because they did not earn a first-class or second-class upper-division pass at the undergraduate level. Our narrow focus on a candidate’s first degree prevents us from giving due recognition to how that person has gained intellectual depth over the years. Some marking rubrics, which allocate points for eye-contact and posture during the interview, dilute the seriousness associated with the academic position, de-prioritise scholarship and turn the interview process into a stage performance.

Cultural Credibility

In recruitment, many universities look for cultural credibility (a term that I borrow from the work of Sulaxana Hippisley) as an unwritten requirement. Some departments are reluctant to hire applicants who are not their alumni. Some selection panels discriminate against candidates from certain ethnic or religious backgrounds. In some departments, women are rejected because they are likely to go on maternity leave or have more domestic responsibilities than men. Gender and sexual minorities have to mute and censor their identities at interviews because they are likely to face rejection if they openly declare their orientation. We have no policies and procedures in place to ensure recruitment is conducted in an inclusive way that sees diversity as a strength.

The Way-forward

When recruitment fails, the entire intellectual culture of that university takes a hit, and several generations of students are affected. Some of the current problems, related to quality in our higher education system, stem from bad recruitment policies and practices. Instead of trying to address these issues through rigorous and inclusive recruitment practices, we try to seek solutions via band-aids like quality assurance and workshops on curriculum writing and pedagogy for university academics.

In developing alternative recruitment policies and practices, we have to demand that the needs and expectations of individual departments are heard. Our selection panels should include more subject specialists than administrators and council nominees. Most of the evaluation should be completed before the interviews, and interviews should be treated as opportunities to get to know candidates in person and pose clarifying questions rather than as occasions for full-scale evaluation. We have to be open and receptive to new, inter-disciplinary scholarship and cultural, ethnic and gender diversity. If we are unwilling to introspect and bring about these reforms and revise our marking schemes, we will continue to recruit the wrong candidates and thereby fail our students and the wider community.

Mahendran Thiruvarangan is a Senior Lecturer attached to the Department of Linguistics & English at the University of Jaffna.

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

by Mahendran Thiruvarangan

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