Features

Constitutionalism, Governance, and the People

Published

5 years ago

2021/12/5

by Prof. Savitri Goonesekere

Coming to the University of Peradeniya is always a special experience. It brings back memories of carefree student days in a perfect environment for friendship and learning. Who can forget the glorious “yellow showers,” the winding Galaha Road, the lawn mowers on fresh grass, “sunset and evening star” and the flute music? The memory is also tinged with sadness, for the troubled times experienced on this beautiful campus, the changes in that familiar environment that have taken place, over threescore years and ten. The changes themselves reflect my own experience, and that of all of us as citizens, on the governance of this country and our universities. I thank the Law Department for inviting me, an alumnus of the first Department of Law in our public university system, to deliver the inaugural Sir Ivor Jennings memorial lecture. Sir Ivor Jennings, the founding Vice Chancellor of the first national University of Ceylon and its twin successor the University of Peradeniya can also be described as one of the founders of Constitutionalism and governance in both the country and the national university system of Sri Lanka.

The inauguration of a lecture series in Sir Ivor Jennings’ memory by the Law Department can also be an occasion to reflect on his life and times in this country, and the changes we have witnessed in these areas. The topic I have chosen for this evening’s lecture is a tribute to a scholar and administrator of a colonial era, whose ideas are an important resource, as we respond to contemporary realities of governance in our country and the university system.

Let me clarify at the outset especially to students, that I am not one of the oldest living students of Sir Ivor Jennings. I was not a student of Sir Ivor, when he lectured in the Law Department, and was Vice Chancellor of the University of Ceylon in Peradeniya. Indeed, I discovered I was a prize winner in my secondary school, Ladies’ College, when Sir Ivor gave the keynote speech at our annual prize giving. I am sure that I was much less impressed with him, than I was with senior student Kumari Jayawardene, speaking passionately on a school platform on worker’s rights. I read through his classic works “The Law and the Constitution,” and “Cabinet Government,” and Jennings and Tambiah on “The Legal System of Ceylon,” very much in the spirit of plodding through “recommended readings.” Constitutional law paled in comparison with other law courses that inspired my interest. However, there were anecdotes that we heard about Sir Ivor. We heard that he was a “student friendly” former Vice Chancellor, quite the contrast of fearsome Sir Nicholas Attygalle. I recall my first examiners’ meeting in his room (the Vice Chancellor chaired the Board Meeting for the award of degrees.) Sir Nicholas looked at me with a steely eye and said “who may I ask are you?” Quite a contrast to Sir Ivor, who sent out a staff circular, which said, “My address is now 18, Aloe Avenue, Colpetty. A drink is always available for members of the staff who feel thirsty or otherwise sociable.”

Besides, we were the beneficiaries, the “nidahas adhyapanaya labee,” the early students to enjoy the beautiful learning environment that we knew Sir Ivor had struggled to create for us all, despite his implacable objections to the Kannangara policies of free education.¹ We enjoyed a peaceful conflict-free learning environment that had been created according to Sir Ivor Jennings’ vision of what university life should be.

When we were undergraduate, some of us women students who refused to boycott classes were met with hoots and whistles when we went for lectures. Yet our “black leg” voices were heard at a huge meeting held under the glorious tree in front of the Senate building, and the strike was over. This meeting was presided by senior politician Dr Sarath Amunugama. Barely a decade later when I was on the staff of the Law Department which had by then moved to Colombo, a student in one of the halls of residence in Peradeniya leapt from an upper floor during ragging, and was crippled for life. My students in Colombo told me they would be assaulted if they followed my advice and expressed their objections to boycotting classes “in sympathy” with the students suspended over the incident. The beautiful and conflict free learning environment that Sir Ivor Jennings, the founding Vice Chancellor had strived to create was already beginning to crumble, a decade later.

Sir Ivor’s commitment to academic excellence meant that high academic standards were maintained in the years that followed his term in office. Products of the University of Peradeniya at the time, and not just the top tier, achieved success and eminence in diverse fields. The equality of access that Sir Ivor feared would result in a “levelling down” of academic quality with free education, in fact gave equal access to a good education for those who entered through the portals of the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya.

Institutional memory in this country is very short. It is only the University of Peradeniya that has sustained our memories of Sir Ivor Jennings’ contribution to our university system and the governance of this country. When I served as Vice Chancellor of the University of Colombo there was no photograph of Sir Ivor Jennings in College House, which he had occupied for many years, or any other building. I obtained a faded copy of a black and white photograph from Prof. Kapila Goonesekere, former Vice Chancellor of Peradeniya University; nothing like the imposing painting of Sir Ivor by David Paynter that adorns the walls of your Senate room.

Sir Ivor Jennings and the Road to Peradeniya

The life and times of Sir Ivor Jennings are documented in his own autobiography, published with an introduction of great professional skill, and with admiration, by the distinguished librarian, late Ian Goonetilleke. This is a rich resource. Professor Lakshman Marasinghe’s essay in a book on legal personalities supplements the autobiography with interesting insights on his work as a legal scholar and jurist. Sir Ivor was a controversial figure during the time he spent in the island, then Ceylon, where he had an important impact on public life and the education sector. His views and his engagement in the political life of the country, attracted criticism, but also admiration.

Sir Ivor began his tenure as Vice Chancellor of the University of Ceylon in the University of Colombo of today. He recalls in his autobiography how the law creating the University of Ceylon was passed on April 2, 1942, three days before the Japanese air raid on Colombo. He unfurled the university’s flag on June 12 on the grounds of College House. He remarks wryly, “being a little sentimental, [seeing] the flag sagging at one end [he] climbed the tower and adjusted it with a safety pin.” No Kandyan dancers, drummers and fanfare at this event.

An educationist of colonial times like Rev. W S Senior of Trinity College Kandy, when he left the island, could record in poetry, “my soul you will break with longing – it can never be goodbye.” Sir Ivor, the legal scholar, jurist, educationist, and administrator, could say with somewhat clinical objectivity, “I am in no way tied to Ceylon and can leave when the spirit moves.” Yet he had a vision and commitment to laying the foundation for a national university, which he believed could become “one of the finest small universities in the world.

Sir Ivor believed that a residential University in an attractive environment was one of the essential attributes of a great university. He was, as he describes himself, “a Cambridge [university] man.” His appreciation of the physical environs of that University created a desire to build a university campus on a site in Peradeniya, which he thought was one of “the most beautiful environments in the world for a university.”

The architecture and landscaping of this university continues to be a model for well-planned and attractive landscaped surroundings, creating a near perfect environment for scholarship and learning. His contribution in this regard has outlived Sir Ivor, even if the values on governance and university education that inspired him have been challenged in the realities of our nation’s post independence experience. However, if Sir Ivor’s surprising inclination to “pull down” College House and construct a women’s hostel had been realised, Colombo University would not have even that colonial heritage of great beauty on its campus surrounded by a wilderness of concrete box like structures.

Sir Ivor had a spectacular student career, receiving first class honours at every level. His approach to study is perhaps relevant to all law students who want to achieve academic honours in their law schools. He was a disciplined workaholic, even as a student. He saved his lunch money to buy books, and “study took precedence over everything.” He studied with “regularity and consistency,” developed a timetable for this, studied the “technique of examinations,” striving to obtain “not only a first, but a brilliant first.” Yet he did not believe only in examination success and paper qualifications. He believed that a residential University could create an environment for extra curricular activities providing an education that was interdisciplinary, stimulating interest in poetry, philosophy, and the arts. His own scholarship crossed the boundaries of law, politics, and political science. He gave up mathematics to study law. He thought “the boundaries between academic subjects very artificial, for knowledge … knows no boundaries.”

The Law Department of Peradeniya is the first to integrate an interdisciplinary perspective, an initiative very much in harmony with Sir Ivor’s concept of a good legal education. Law schools, have, in general adopted what legal theory in the Anglo American tradition describes as “Austinian positivism” that teaches students how to learn and analyse the content of laws. However, in the early years the focus on reference and reading meant that students read widely and understood the core norms and concepts that linked law and administration of justice. This approach produced lawyers of great professional skill and eminence at a time when legal education was exclusively in English. It has had serious drawbacks for teaching and research in a challenging environment where very little literature is available in local languages, and most lawyers obtain a monolingual legal education with lecture notes in Sinhala or Tamil. Sir Ivor was uncompromising in his commitment to excellence in teaching and research. When my husband, as one of the young lecturers in the Law Department, was to go to Oxford for post-graduate studies, Sir Ivor advised him to read for a taught post-graduate degree in Civil law, (the BCL). Undertaking research he said, was the post qualification obligation of all University teachers, and a law teacher could then apply for a higher doctorate! This advice was clearly based on his personal experience as a scholar and jurist.

Though Sir Ivor’s scholarship and vision span law, politics and an interdisciplinary perspective, he was cynical about all “isms” – Marxism, nationalism, communalism, considering them political rhetoric. He had a poor and mistaken impression of the country’s cultural heritage. He thought that transferring the University to Peradeniya could help “a cultural desert in Ceylon to blossom like a rose.” Yet he established a Faculty of Oriental Studies in the University of Ceylon, encouraged the development of these disciplines, and stressed the importance of scholarship and learning that was sensitive to local social and economic realities. He supported the creation of a university endowment fund, and a museum for sculpture, paintings and objects of art. He thought “pious benefactors” from the private sector would contribute to such a fund, and wanted the sales of his autobiography used for such an initiative. I believe that late Ian Goonetilleke who treasured his own stunning collection of artworks by George Keyt and many other reputed Sri Lankan artists, was inspired by Sir Ivor’s vision to donate this priceless collection to the University of Peradeniya. An Ivor Jennings memorial lecture is surely an occasion to also pay tribute to that joint vision. Universities are receiving substantial funds from Government to improve their infrastructure. Is it not possible to give a museum project maximum priority in university planning, supplementing this with support from “pious benefactor” alumni in business and the professions?

Values on university autonomy free from political interference were very much the foundation for Sir Ivor’s vision of university education. The 1942 University Ordinance, which he drafted, also incorporated the concept. This law established Councils, Senates and Faculty Boards, modelled on the institutional arrangements of British universities. For Sir Ivor, the institutions, (still embedded in our university system, in 1978/1985 legislation), could provide academics with the tools to resist abuse of political and official authority and interference in university administration. When the University of Ceylon Bill was being debated in the legislature, Sir Ivor who sat behind the Minister C.W.W. Kannangara, drafted quick amendments that prevented clauses being introduced that could erode university autonomy. Though he and the Minister opposed each other in the Committee on Education on the proposals for free education, they shared the same perspective on the importance of maintaining the autonomy of universities in the area of higher education.

Academics from the university community in Peradeniya gave leadership when university autonomy was under attack in the late 1960s and 1970s. The current Universities Act with strong provisions on this principle, was adopted once again in 1978 with the contribution of senior academics from Peradeniya University. It was intended to restore the autonomy of universities. It was unfortunately amended in 1985, creating new provisions on the appointment and dismissal of Vice Chancellors with an expanded regulatory role for the University Grants Commission. These changes undermined the authority of the highest university bodies (Councils and Senates) and has encouraged political interference.

Two university Vice Chancellors have been recently removed without, it is alleged, following even the required procedures. A few academics have publicly challenged these actions. But we have, in general, become accustomed to erosion of university autonomy by political authorities, even though the institutional arrangements introduced in 1942 by Sir Ivor continue to be part of our university system. State universities are being blamed for not sustaining excellence in education and contributing to human resource development. No link is made to the toxic impact of politicization of university education.

Constitutionalism and the Sri Lankan People

Constitutionalism, as law students know, refers to the theoretical underpinnings of Constitutional law. The theories in turn impact on the institutional arrangements for governance, and the concepts incorporated in Constitutions. Constitutions and their theoretical concepts are often dismissed as irrelevant for the People. Yet, governance impacts on peoples’ lives. Constitutions and the people are therefore all connected.

Nelson Mandela referring to Constitution making in South Africa in 1996, said that a Constitution is “a law that embodies the nation’s aspirations.” Sir Ivor Jennings wrote an Article published in the Ceylon Daily News three decades earlier in 1962 commenting that, “any lawyer can draft a Constitution for anywhere. The difficulty is to persuade a people to make it work.” The “aspirations” justification for Constitution making in Mandela’s words, places the concept of the “Sovereignty of the People” at the centre of Constitution making. Sir Ivor’s comment focuses on the responsibility of both rulers and the governed to make Constitutions work.

The weeks and months prior to the Presidential elections 2019 witnessed an outpouring of public anger against politicians and our legislators. A constant refrain is the failure and defects of democracy, and Constitutionalism as lawyers know it, and a desire to replace it with new institutions and “strong individual leadership.” Another discourse calls for rejection of any links to Constitutional norms and standards derived from what are described as implanted and alien “colonial” or “Western elitist” norms and standards of governance. The idea of governance based on “jathika chinthanaya” or national conscience advocated the need to link political ideology with a local, rural, traditional culture. This has now been reinvented in a new discourse on the need to reject for all time “Suddha law.” This is a phrase used by the monk Gnanasara when he disrupted Court proceedings and was convicted of contempt of court. The public display of abuse of power, arrogant, irresponsible and corrupt governance, selfish political leadership and waste of national resources despite regime changes, has created a demand by some for a complete rejection of Constitutional theories and the institutions of governance.

Such trends are visible in other countries too. The furore over Brexit in the United Kingdom and the conflict between Parliament and the Prime Minister is sometimes traced to the absence of a written Constitution with specific provisions on how to cope with challenging problems of governance. Sir Ivor Jennings, the British constitutional lawyer and jurist, drafted written Constitutions for many countries, and wrote his seminal work on “The Law and the Constitution.” He would have contested the suggestion that Constitutional law and Constitutionalism could only be embedded in a written Constitution. From his perspective, governance that limited State power, and based on written or unwritten Constitutions was the responsibility of the rulers and the governed.

(Excerpted from “Inaugural Sir Ivor Jennings lecture of the Department of Law University of Peradeniya,” included as part of the new book “Perspectives of Constitutional Reforms in Sri Lanka” edited by Dr. Hiran W. Jayewardene and Sharya Scharenguivel. Published by International and Contemporary Law Society).

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Features

Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/26

Thilina Walpola

Sri Lanka is currently well and truly trapped in the strangling grip of a devastating and severely enhanced dengue outbreak. The numbers alone are staggering; over 44,000 cases have been recorded across the island so far this year, with the highest concentration systematically suffocating the Western, Southern, and Central provinces. Hospitals and healthcare providers are under extreme pressure, but the cold metrics of morbidity do not capture the true implications and dismay of this current wave. What has profoundly shaken the public consciousness and even sent a shudder through the medical community is a grim shift in the implications for the populace.

Dengue has always been quite a threat, looming over our Motherland from time to time. Yet for all that, historically, child deaths due to the virus were relatively rare in Sri Lanka, thanks to scrupulously adhering to robust clinical guidelines, as well as exceptional paediatric monitoring and management. This year, that safety net seems to be straining quite a bit at the edges and among the reported fatalities are a tragic number of children. The virus is moving faster, hitting harder, and exposing a terrifying reality, even stressing that our existing defence mechanisms are perhaps no longer totally sufficient to deal with the problem.

In response, public health authorities have deployed their traditional arsenal. Teams are busy with intensive surveillance, conducting house-to-house inspections, enforcing strict penalties for standing and stagnant water, and sending fogging machinery through the streets to blanket neighbourhoods in chemical mists. Yet, as case counts climb by nearly 50% week over week, an uncomfortable question must be asked: Are these traditional measures sufficient, or are they bordering on an exercise in futility?

The Illusion of the Fog: Why Our Current Strategy May Be Failing?

To understand why Sri Lanka might be in a tight corner, one must look closely at the enemy. Dengue is transmitted primarily by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a highly adapted, urbanised insect. While Aedes aegypti is widely considered the primary culprit, Aedes albopictus (commonly known as the Asian tiger mosquito) plays a massive, highly dangerous role in Sri Lanka’s dengue transmission as well. In fact, the interplay between these two species is one of the biggest reasons why controlling dengue on the island is so incredibly difficult. These two vectors behave differently, breed in different places, and require distinct strategies to combat their well-recognised roles in the propagation of the disease that is dengue. Understanding how these two mosquito species split the territory could explain why a single controlling method might not always work across the board.

Aedes aegypti mosquitoes are strictly urban and indoor creatures. They live alongside humans inside houses, apartments, and in heavily built-up commercial areas. They rest on dark clothes in closets, under furniture, and behind curtains. They breed in artificial containers, clear, stagnant water in flower vases, plastic cups, concrete sumps, and overhead tanks. They prefer human blood almost exclusively and bite multiple people to get one full meal, thereby spreading the dengue virus rapidly within even a single household.

In contrast, Aedes albopictus is semi-urban and rural, thrives in vegetations, gardens, rubber plantations, and peri-urban areas where green spaces meet houses. The creature rests in shaded bushes, high grass, and low canopy foliage, as well as holes in trees, leaf axils, coconut shells, discarded tyres and trash. The biting behaviour of these mosquitoes is opportunistic. They bite humans but also feed on birds and domestic mammals, indicating that they can survive easily even when human density is low.

The traditional responses we rely on, most notably thermal fogging, are largely cosmetic public relations exercises rather than a totally effective vector control mechanism. Such fogging misses indoor resting sites, drives resistance, and stagnant water elimination fails against cryptic, microscopic breeding sites.

Fogging utilises “adulticides“, chemical sprays meant to kill flying mosquitoes. However, Aedes aegypti is a domestic creature; it rests indoors, hidden in the dark recesses of closets, under beds, and behind curtains. A fogging process achieves very little penetration into these indoor sanctuaries. Furthermore, over-reliance on these pyrethroid-based chemical sprays has accelerated insecticide resistance, effectively rendering the chemicals useless over time.

Similarly, while the National Dengue Control Unit (NDCU), to their eternal credit, aggressively pursues the elimination of visible standing water, the sheer adaptability of the mosquito outpaces manual human labour in trying to eliminate the breeding places of the vectors. Aedes eggs can remain dormant in dry containers for months, hatching the moment a drop of water touches them. In dense, urbanised areas like Colombo and Gampaha, microscopic breeding sites, from the rim of a discarded plastic bottle cap to the base of an indoor potted plant, are impossible to completely police.

If we continue to rely solely on manual cleaning and chemical fogging, we are fighting a twenty-first-century climate-driven crisis with mid-twentieth-century tools. We must look beyond our borders to see how global science is shifting the paradigm of mosquito control.

The Biological Frontier: Insects fighting Mosquitoes

When searching for international alternatives, many look towards the United States, where vector control districts manage complex mosquito populations across diverse ecosystems. A common point of curiosity is the historical use of “mosquito-eating insects.”

In the US, biological control has long featured predatory species. While some point to insects like dragonfly nymphs or giant non-biting mosquito larvae (Toxorhynchites, which actively prey on other mosquito larvae), the most widely used traditional biological agent in American municipal water systems is actually the Gambusia affinis, commonly known as the “mosquitofish.” A single one of these surface-feeding fish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae a day.

However, American vector management has largely evolved past simply dumping predatory fish into ponds. The true modern frontier in global mosquito control relies on advanced biological and genetic interventions that turn the mosquitoes against themselves.

1. The Wolbachia Revolution

Perhaps the most successful international intervention against dengue is the introduction of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes. Wolbachia is a naturally occurring bacterium found in up to sixty per cent of all insect species, but crucially, not naturally present in Aedes aegypti.

When scientists introduce Wolbachia into Aedes mosquitoes in a laboratory and release them into the wild, two extraordinary things happen: –

· Viral Suppression: The bacterium competes with viruses like dengue, Zika, and chikungunya inside the mosquito’s body, making it incredibly difficult for the virus to replicate. If the virus cannot replicate, the mosquito cannot transmit it to a human.

· Population Replacement:

Through a mechanism called cytoplasmic incompatibility, when a Wolbachia-carrying male mates with a wild female that does not carry the bacteria, her eggs do not hatch. If a Wolbachia female mates with a wild male, her offspring will carry the bacteria. Over time, the local mosquito population is entirely replaced by harmless, non-transmission-capable mosquitoes.

In comprehensive global trials, such as those conducted by the World Mosquito Programme in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, the introduction of Wolbachia mosquitoes led to a staggering 77% reduction in dengue incidence and an 86% reduction in dengue-related hospitalisations.

2. Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) and Genetic Modifications

Other countries, including parts of the US (such as the Florida Keys) and Brazil, have turned to genetic engineering. Using the Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) or advanced genetic variants (like those developed by Oxitec), millions of bio-engineered male mosquitoes are released into the wild. Because male mosquitoes do not bite humans, and they feed exclusively on nectar, thereby posing zero risk to the public. These males mate with wild females, but pass on a self-limiting gene that causes the female offspring to die in the larval stage before they can ever mature, bite, or transmit disease. This results in a drastic collapse of the localised vector population without the use of even a single drop of toxic chemical pesticide.

Moving beyond the Status Quo: A Blueprint for Sri Lanka

The current dilemma in Sri Lanka is a classical gridlock: we are deploying immense physical effort and economic capital into vector control measures that yield diminishing returns, while our clinical wards fill with critically ill patients. If we are to break this cycle, our public health policy must undergo a rapid structural evolution

We cannot instantly replicate the multimillion-dollar genetic laboratories of the West, but we can modernise our strategy immediately by adopting a highly targeted, multi-tiered approach.

Comprehensive Vector Management Strategy

The following are some thoughts that need to be carefully evaluated in a venture towards getting things under control.

· Shift from Adulticides to Target Microbial Larvicides Immediate Phase

Cease the reliance on sweeping chemical thermal fogging. Instead, deploy specialised microbial larvicides such as Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis (Bti). Bti is a naturally occurring soil bacterium that, when ingested by mosquito larvae, destroys their digestive tracts. It is completely non-toxic to humans, pets, and other aquatic life, and can be distributed via localised backpack sprayers or drones into inaccessible urban sumps.

· Scale Up Localised Wolbachia Trials Intermediate Phase

Sri Lanka has previously initiated small-scale, localised pilot releases of Wolbachia mosquitoes in select urban pockets. Given the severity of the 2026 outbreak, these programmes must be aggressively scaled up into an industrial-level national initiative. Public-private partnerships must be leveraged to establish sustainable, high-capacity mosquito-rearing facilities locally.

· Implement Digital Ovitrap Surveillance Continuous Integration

Replace manual, retroactive searching with predictive digital mapping. Deploy networks of smart “ovitraps” (oviposition traps) across high-burden provinces. These traps monitor egg-laying rates in real-time, allowing automated data systems to predict a spike in the adult mosquito population weeks before an actual clinical outbreak occurs, enabling preventative targeting.

The Cost of Inaction

Maintaining our current trajectory is not a neutral choice; it is an endorsement of escalating mortality. The 2026 outbreak has proven that the ecological dynamics of dengue have changed, fuelled by changing weather patterns and urban density. Our public health response must change with it.

The heart-breaking loss of young lives in this current surge must serve as a stark wake-up call. We must look at the international landscape, embrace the biological innovations that have saved lives across the globe, and transition from a policy of panic-driven reaction to one of scientific eradication. It is no longer just a matter of cleaning our drains; it is a matter of upgrading our science.

Why Aedes albopictus Makes the Sri Lankan Crisis Harder

In Sri Lanka, the geographic landscape transitions quickly from dense concrete cities to lush, tropical vegetation. This creates the perfect environment for both species to thrive simultaneously.

· The Surveillance Blindspot: When health authorities focus heavily on checking indoor water storage and concrete drains in cities, they can completely miss the massive Aedes albopictus populations breeding in the surrounding vegetation, suburban gardens, and rural homesteads of the Southern and Central provinces.

· The Failure of Indoor Fogging:

While indoor residual spraying or targeted indoor fogging might hit Aedes aegypti, it has virtually no effect on Aedes albopictus, which spends its life cycle outdoors in the bushes.

· Climate Resilience:

Aedes albopictus eggs are remarkably tolerant of colder temperatures and varied environments. This allows the vector to push higher into the mountainous terrains of the Central Province, bringing dengue to areas that historically saw very few cases.

To truly bring down the case numbers in a severely enhanced outbreak, public health interventions must be dual-targeted: addressing the indoor, urban threat of Aedes aegypti while simultaneously tackling the outdoor, ecological stronghold of Aedes albopictus. We cannot sit back on our laurels of the past. We need to move forward resolutely.

Features

ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/26

Thilina Walpola

Anuradhapura. Image courtesy Central Cultural Fund

R. W. Ievers, who wrote this poem, was the Government Agent of the North Central Province during 1884, 1886, and 1890. He is the author of the Manual of the North Central Province (1899) and a half dozen published reports on the life and practices in the Province. Before his death, he shared it with his good friend H.C.P. Bell, the Archaeological Commissioner of Ceylon at the time. In 1917, Bell had it published in the Times of Ceylon – Christmas Number. Since then, it remained unknown for 109 years, until Ievers’s great-grandson, Turtle Bunbury, historian and author of Living in Sri Lanka (2006) with James Fennell, tipped me off about its source – H.C.P. Bell: Archaeologist of Ceylon and the Maldives (1993), written by Bell’s granddaughters Bethia N. Bell and Heather M. Bell.

THE ANTHEM

Anuradhapura! City grand and vast,

Lanka’s famous Capital, in ages of the past:

In the Mahawansa the story has been told

Of thy palaces, and temples, and pinnacles of gold.

Hail! then hail! to the worth of a bygone day,

Hail! all hail! to the relics of kingly sway

Hail to thee, Fair City, glorious in decay,

Hail! thrice hail! Forever and for aye!

Si monumentum quaeris

– cast your gaze around

Ruined fanes and dagobas everywhere abound

Alas! for glory faded, for erstwhile beauty sped

For hierarchs and heroes, long numbered with the dead

Hail! then hail!…

Great Ruwanaveli Seya, once fairest of the fair,

The splendour of thy palmy days has melted into air;

And like Imperial Caesar now ‘dead and turned into clay’,

Thy sacred bricks ‘may stop a hole to keep the wind away.’

Note by Tillakaratne:

Since 1873, Bhikku Naranvita Sumanasara has been doing conservation work on this stupa. In 1876, Governor William Gregory, after visiting the work site, wrote that its conservation was not just a religious work but a great National Monument.

See ‘Bayagiri’ massive – ‘Fearless Mount’ forsooth – Centre once of schism rank, from ‘Great Vihara’ truth.

Patched up by prison labour, anew it flaunts on high

A ‘hideous excrescence’ athwart a tranquil sky.

Note by H. C. P. Bell

: T. N. Christie, Planting Member at the time protested in the Legislative Council against the abortive “restoration” by prison labour of the Abhayagiri Dagaba, dubbing its truncated pinnacle, half restored, a “hideous excrescence”.

Jetawanarama, Great Sena’s priestly boon

Comely shape and giddy height will crumble all too soon;

Where forest trees and chequered shade a peaceful picture lend,

From cruel axe and ruthless spade, may gracious Heaven defend.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

Two decades after these poems were written, the surrounding area of the Jetawanarama was still covered in forest, and the Atamasthana Committee conditionally allowed a monk to clear a limited number of trees. But not a tree remained unfelled, contrary to what the monk was authorized to do.

Thuparama graceful, in outline clear and bold,

Begirt with column chaste and slim, a gem in the ring of gold

To thee pertains high honour a pious people gave – The tomb of Sanghamitta, and Prince Mahinda’s grave.

Note by

H. C. P. Bell: The ruins are pointed out, wrongly, as the tradional tombs of Arahat Mahinda and Sanghamitta Theranee.

With bricks and mortar bolstered up, behold the Sacred Bo;

To some – misguided mortals – ‘tis but a ‘bo-gas’ show.

Where humble Mirisveti a monarch’s fad recalls,

Lo! Royal Siam’s silver now builds its futile walls.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

According to Mahawansa, Mirisavetiya was so named after King Dutugemunu’s compunction at forgetting chillies (miris) in his alms giving to monks on one occasion. The restoration work on the Mirisavetiya began under the Ceylon Government, with funds provided by the King of Siam. When the money flow began to cease, work also ceased, and bats began to frequent the holed structure.

: Ruwanveli Seya in the background. Murage in the front c. 1900 From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)

: Bhayagriya (Abhayagiriya) c. 1900 From: Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)

: Jetawanaramaya c. 1900. From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)

What need to tell of sculptures, of ‘pokunas’ galore,

Of balustrades and Yogi stones and half a hundred more,

Of Brazen Palace spacious, with gilt-roofed storeys dight –

A modern race more ‘brazen’ would desecrate each site.

For midst these sacred ruins of shrines and cloistered hall,

A reckless generation disports with little balls,

Whilst ‘Parliamentary language’ and imprecations deep

Disturb the peaceful solitude where saintly Rahats sleep.

Note by H. C. P. Bell:

After European residents, old city Anuradhapura in the late 19th century, the area still being cleared between Ruwanveli Seya and Thuparama, was used a ‘golf links’. Ievers did not like the area used as a playground:

Iconoclasts and vandals have had their little day;

No more shall ancient pillars to culverts find their way.

No more a watchful Government such sacrilege condones –

One may not meddle with the gods, nor tamper with the stones.

Anuradhapura! Thy glory shall revive;

Yhu [sic] sons shall swarm within thee like bees about a hive.

The effort of the present for past neglect atones;

New breath of life resuscitates this vale of driest bones.

Composed by R. W. Ievers
(1850-1905)
Introduced by Lokubanda Tillakaratne

Features

Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/26

Thilina Walpola

Mahawa Factory

For thousands of Sri Lankans living with limb loss and physical disabilities, access to quality rehabilitation services remains a significant challenge. Yet, for more than three decades, our organisation has quietly transformed lives through innovation, compassion and community-based care. The Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited (MRFGL), supported by the Meththa Foundation-UK and in partnership with the Manitha Neyam Trust, the LEBARA Foundation and the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in Jaffna, emerged as one of Sri Lanka’s most effective voluntary rehabilitation service providers, restoring mobility, independence and dignity to some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens.

The Foundation’s roots stretch back to 1994, when a group of expatriate Sri Lankan professionals in the United Kingdom recognised the severe shortage of rehabilitation services available to disabled persons in Sri Lanka. Drawing upon their expertise in rehabilitation medicine and allied healthcare professions, they established the Meththa Foundation-UK with a simple but powerful vision: to provide affordable, high-quality prosthetic and rehabilitation services to those who needed them most.

Below knee artificial limb Designed and made at Mahawa

What began as an effort to recycle and repurpose high-quality prosthetic components donated by the UK’s National Health Service has evolved into a comprehensive rehabilitation network serving communities across the island.

Clinical services commenced in Sri Lanka in 1995 through a mobile outreach programme that initially supported injured soldiers and later expanded to civilians affected by conflict and disability. The majority of them were victims of land mines. In 2010, the Sri Lankan arm of the organisation was formally registered as the Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited, strengthening its ability to deliver sustainable services nationwide.

Today, the Foundation operates four modern rehabilitation centres located in Mahawa, Mankulam, Balapitiya and Kilinochchi. These centres provide prosthetic and orthotic services, posture and mobility support, limb repairs, and rehabilitation assistance to patients from diverse social and economic backgrounds.

Recognising that many disabled individuals live in remote areas with limited access to healthcare, Meththa Foundation also established a mobile outreach service in 2011. Through a successful “Hub and Spoke” model, rehabilitation teams travel regularly to underserved communities, ensuring that patients are not denied care simply because of distance or financial hardship.

The scale of the Foundation’s work is impressive. During 2025 alone, the organisation recorded approximately 2,000 patient contacts, including the provision of 350 new artificial limbs, 850 limb repairs and around 800 other rehabilitation devices. For many beneficiaries, these interventions represent far more than medical treatment; they offer a pathway back to employment, education and social participation.

Innovation has become a hallmark of the Foundation’s approach. Through an active research and development programme, MRFGL has developed affordable prosthetic technologies specifically suited to Sri Lankan conditions. Among its achievements is the development of a modular below-knee artificial limb system manufactured largely from locally sourced materials. The Foundation has also designed low-cost prosthetic knee components that significantly reduce the financial burden on patients while maintaining quality and functionality. These developments are funded by generous International Grants facilitated by affluent members of the Meththa Foundation-UK. Service users are encouraged to donate whatever they can but for those who cannot, which is a majority the services are entirely free.

These innovations not only make rehabilitation more affordable but also strengthen local manufacturing capabilities and reduce dependence on imported components.

Equally important is the Foundation’s commitment for building local expertise. Recognising the shortage of trained rehabilitation professionals in Sri Lanka, Meththa Foundation

established an apprentice-based vocational training programme that recruits and trains young people as prosthetists, orthotists and rehabilitation technicians. Several locally trained staff members are now employed across the Foundation’s centres, helping to create a sustainable workforce for the future.

The organisation’s work has attracted growing recognition within the healthcare sector. Discussions have already taken place with health authorities regarding the potential use of Meththa-designed prosthetic components within Government hospitals. Such collaboration could significantly expand access to affordable rehabilitation services throughout the country.

Beyond its clinical achievements, the Foundation’s impact is measured in restored confidence and renewed independence. Surveys conducted among beneficiaries indicate that many educated amputees successfully return to productive lives after receiving rehabilitation support. However, the findings also highlight an ongoing challenge among poorer and less educated amputees, many of whom struggle to access follow-up care due to transportation difficulties and financial constraints.

To address this issue, the organisation hopes to -expand its mobile services and community outreach programmes. Additional funding would allow rehabilitation teams to reach isolated communities more frequently, ensuring that vulnerable patients continue to receive the support they need.

Operating on an annual expenditure of approximately Rs. 30 million in Sri Lanka, supplemented by overseas fundraising and donations, the Foundation remains heavily reliant on the partnership of charitable trusts such as the Manitha Neyam Trust and LEBARA Foundation and generosity of individual well-wishers. Every contribution directly supports the provision of artificial limbs, mobility devices, training programmes and outreach services for those who might otherwise be left behind.

As Sri Lanka continues to strengthen its healthcare and social welfare systems, organisations such as the Meththa Foundation demonstrate how innovation, volunteerism and dedication can create lasting social

By helping individuals regain mobility and independence, the Foundation is not merely providing artificial limbs—it is rebuilding lives and restoring hope.

For many “beneficiaries, every step they take is a testament to the life-changing work of the Meththa foundation

www.meththafoundation-sl-uk.org

Chairman’s WhatsApp contact number +94 77 788 6119

Prof S P Lamabadusurira, Chairman and Dr B Panagamuwa, ✍️
First Trustee