Features
A YOUNG CCS OFFFICER IN THE PROVINCES IN THE 1950s
by Chandra Arulpragasam
Every young officer in the government service should serve some time in the provinces. This is necessary to observe the ways in which government services interact with the people – and to learn what the people think of them. It is also a good preparation for higher posts in the government, where field-level experience is invaluable as a training to work at the national level. Moreover, at the field level, one can can be lucky to see the results of one’s work; whereas at the department or ministry level, one’s work may be swept away by policy or other interventions. Hence I was fortunate to serve in two kachcheries in my cadetship of two years in the CCS, plus a posting of three years in a district. My stories spring from those years.
On Death Row in Kandy
One of the duties of the Government Agent (Kandy) was to ensure that the death sentences imposed by the Supreme Court were in fact carried out/executed. (I had always wondered how a man could be “executed”; in fact, it is only the sentence of death that is executed). Unfortunately, this too was a function passed on to me by the Government Agent, a very senior Burgher gentleman, who had known my father. He used to pass on many disagreeable functions to his podi putha, who was only a Cadet in training. So at the tender age of 23 years, I had to preside over the hanging of a man who had been sentenced to death by the Supreme Court for killing his wife.
In looking over the case, I found that the man concerned was an Indian estate laborer, who had committed a crime of passion. On entering his own house, he had found his wife sleeping with another man. In his rage, he had killed her – for which he had been sentenced to death by hanging. And it was up to me, as the representative of the government, to execute that sentence of death. According to the protocol, it is the forensic surgeon who has to certify that the victim is clinically dead, whereas I, as the agent of the Government, had to certify that the sentence of death had been carried out. Fortunately for me, I found that the forensic surgeon was Dr. Sourjah, who had been my team-mate in the University rugby team. So I hastily made a deal with him that I would not witness the hanging myself, but would depend on his certification of death to sign off on my duty – that the sentence of death had been carried out.
So early one morning at 5 a.m., with great trepidation, I entered the death row of the Bogambara prison in Kandy. I was taken to the sentenced man’s cell, but he was not there: for he was worshipping his God at the adjoining Hindu shrine. In accordance with tradition, the last night’s meal was to be a grand one, since it was to be his last on earth. But it was still on the table – untouched from previous night. Then the ‘dead man’ was brought in. He wore a white-hooded suit, with his hands and feet in chains. I looked at him – and I can hardly describe what I saw. His face, eyes and countenance were ethereal and luminous. He was glowing with a spirituality that I had never seen in any face before. In my mind, he had asked and had been given forgiveness by his God – and he was ready to go to the next world.
But what followed was even more devastating for me. He came up to me with his face glowing with this ethereal spirituality; he then fell at my feet and worshipped me, asking for my forgiveness. He had rendered his soul to his God: he was now rendering his body to Caesar, to me as the representative of the state. I rushed to raise him to his feet, almost apologizing to him for what I had to do. But he was ready to go and just wanted my blessing.
I did not look as he took his last walk to the gallows. But I could not avoid hearing the sickening drop of the trap-door, nor the jerk of the rope. As agreed with my friend the forensic surgeon, I did not look at the dead body. Based on his two line report, I quickly signed that the convicted man had been hanged till he was dead, dead, dead – and rushed out of the building.
Taking ‘Bribes’
When I was Assistant Government Agent of the Batticaloa District, I had to go to the Unichchai Colonization Scheme to sort out various problems of land and water use. I had worked hard for the poor colonists – and probably they appreciated this. When concluding one of my visits, I found the colonists loading some fresh vegetables into my car. This may have been a traditional practice for lower level officials, but in my best CCS tradition and with stiff bureaucratic upper-lip, I was outraged that the colonists were trying to ‘bribe me’! For if I accepted, I would be morally guilty of taking a bribe.
So I first upbraided the Colonization Officer for permitting this. Secondly, in my moral righteousness and bureaucratic ‘virginity’, I ordered that everything should be taken out of my car at once! The poor colonists, dumbfounded, did not know what to make of this, since they had probably been doing this for years, either through respect or appreciation. But I insisted, standing righteous and firm – and they bewildered, meekly and mutely obeyed! None of them had given very much, because they were poor. Each had put in some small thing- a small gourd here, a bunch of bananas there, or a few green chillies. But I insisted that everything should be taken out, with my car completely cleared of their ‘bribes’!
But one colonist said it all. While taking his five green chillies out of the car, he said: ‘Sir, I have put only five green chillies into your car. But in return for my affection and respect, you have in effect slapped me in my face, just for showing my respect!’ I became so ashamed that I had not accepted their ‘bribes’! But since I had already given my implacable bureaucratic order, I could not take it back. In hindsight, I was glad that I had made that order, for it served me in the future, not only here but all over the district – that I would not accept the practices of the past. But it would also help me to avoid the hurt of ordering all the things out of my car, as I had done in the current case. But I left, biting my lip for the bureaucratic prig that I had made of myself – for the hurt that I had caused them in return for their pains.
Communal Discord in a Colonization Scheme
I had to confront communal clashes in the Batticaloa District when the ‘Sri’ troubles broke out in 1956. Since the Sinhalese had killed Tamils in other districts, the word had spread to the Batticaloa District, where the Tamils now wanted to kill the few Sinhalese in the Scheme in retaliation. This was in 1956 when the Gal Oya colonization had just been started, and about 20 years before the Tigers took up arms against the state. My story is about the colonists of the Unichchai Colonization Scheme in the north of the district. There were five Sinhalese there, who as former land development workers had been allotted lands under the scheme. They, having married local Tamil women, had settled down there. But when news reached the locals (this was a 100 per cent Tamil area) that their people were being killed by Sinhalese in other districts, they threatened violence against the few harmless Sinhalese colonists.
The Colonization Officer rang urgently to warn me of impending violence. I summoned a meeting of all the colonists and drove there immediately (it was about 22 miles away). After assuring the Sinhala colonists in Sinhala, that I would look after them, I addressed the big meeting of colonists who were entirely Tamil. I told them that whether Sinhalese or Tamil, they shared the same problems of water shortage and poverty. They were hanging their washing on their same common fence and borrowing rice from each other in times of need.
But now, just because some fools were killing others somewhere else, how did it affect their hitherto amicable relations with neighbours who shared the same problems? Instead, I asked why they hadn’t thought of killing me, who was richer than they, had power over them, etc, instead of trying to kill their poor Sinhala neighbours who had done them no harm? This leftist talk alarmed them – because they had never heard this kind of talk before. I also knew that I was a bit of a fraud, since I knew that they would not harm me. But it was a novel idea to them – and it worked: for it completely defused the tension.
Yet I had to move from the theoretical to the practical, since passions were running high. So I named four Tamil-surrounding neighbours of every Sinhala family, telling them that I would hold them responsible for the safety of their Sinhala neighbor. I warned them that if they allowed anyone to touch even a hair on the head of their Sinhalese brothers, they (the four Tamil neighbours) would be expelled from the Colonization Scheme forthwith. The result was a resounding success: no Sinhala colonist was ever harmed. I was even more richly rewarded when I found within three months that the Sinhalese and Tamil neighbours were again hanging their washing together on their same common fence – a good sign of communal harmony!
Presiding at an Election
Actually, I did not preside over the Parliamentary elections: the Government Agent as Returning Officer did. However, a a ‘Presiding Officer’, I had definite duties: first, for staffing the polling booths with government staff officers; second, for supervising the actual elections in the polling booths; and third, for the counting of ballots after the voting was done.
On Election Day, I set out to monitor most of the polling booths. On one of these monitoring missions, I went to Kattankudi, a Muslim town just south of Batticaloa, where I was able to see an act of impersonation first hand. A pregnant Muslim woman, with a sari pulled over her face with only the eyes showing, was challenged. To my utter surprise, ‘she’ was unveiled to reveal a man with a beard and a pillow around his waist, pretending to be pregnant!
I still had to cast my own ballot for the Batticaloa town seat. Fortunately or unfortunately, I knew all the candidates for that seat. When I came to the polling station, each of the candidates bowed and smiled, each of them expecting me to vote for them. I was an LSSP supporter at that time and since there was no LSSP candidate in the race, I did not know whom to vote for. I went into the polling booth and impulsively drew a caricature/cartoon of each of the three candidates against their names.
On Election night, there was a grand counting of votes. I was dreading that my ballot (with the cartoon of the candidates) would come up for my own ruling. Indeed it did: and I was the first to shout “Spoilt Ballot”. I heard one of the candidates muttering loudly “bloody fool” – aimed at the person who had cast that ballot! I hastened to agree! I had acted irresponsibly as a presiding officer. On the other hand, it was my own ballot – and if I chose to spoil it, that was my right!
Chief Guest at a Ceremonial Function
I had just begun my term as Assistant Government Agent of the Batticaloa District in 1955, when the Government Agent asked me to carry out a ceremonial function on his behalf. Since the office of the Government Agent was held in peculiarly high esteem in that district, candidates seeking election to Parliament would often try to make out that they were on very good terms with the Government Agent. With this intent, a Muslim Parliamentary candidate for the Kalmunai seat invited the GA to ceremonially open a multipurpose cooperative store. This was an invitation which the GA could hardly refuse, since the establishment of cooperative societies was a high priority of the government.
Seizing this propaganda opportunity, the prospective candidate got thousands of his supporters to attend the opening ceremony, making it into a huge political tamasha. He even had songs to be sung at the ceremony, which included the Government Agent’s name (Mr. Pullenayegum) and his many ascribed virtues printed on the ceremonial song-sheets. Unfortunately, the GA had to cancel at the last minute and deputed me to attend this ceremonial function on his behalf. Without batting an eyelid, the wily candidate had Mr. Pullenayagam’s name erased and my name ‘Arulpragasam’ substituted on all the printed sheets, accusing me falsely of all the virtues originally ascribed to Mr. Pullenayegum!
But even I, who had undertaken this venture lightly, was somewhat awed by the event. Crowds lined the streets, which were decorated with bunting and gokkala. Formally attired in coat and tie, I was received amidst fanfare by a big orchestra playing Tamil music and was ceremoniously escorted to preside at a massive meeting. Here, I had to make a ceremonial speech, in which I managed to praise the government’s cooperative program while artfully and judiciously avoiding any mention of the candidate!
I was then taken in procession to the site of the new cooperative building. But this was no simple procession: it was led by an orchestra playing Tamil music with the blare of the nagasalam and flutes, accompanied by an obsessive beating of drums. The orchestra was followed by a group of dancing girls dressed in flamboyant colours but modestly so, because this was a very conservative Muslim area, while lustily singing my false virtues, as printed in the song-sheets. Next came I, walking regally on white pavada (white ceremonial cloth) along the main Kalmunai-Batticaloa Road, on which all traffic had been stopped for over two hours.
Meanwhile, pavada was being laid continuously at my feet, while chinese crackers (cheena-patas) were being set off all around me, while layer upon layer of garlands of flowers were being landed on my neck continuously. To add to my problems, my pants were a little loose, so that I had to hold onto them with one hand while marching pompously on the pavada, jumping at the crackers exploding around me, being garlanded with flowers reaching over my nostrils, while keeping a discreet eye open for the dancing girls!
Meanwhile crowds had lined the roads on which all traffic had been halted. Fortunately my face could not be seen for most of the time, since it was covered with garlands of flowers. But just when we were passing the Karativu junction (where the Amparai Road meets the north-south Batticaloa Road) my garlands were removed to pile on new ones, leaving me unmasked for a moment. As my bad luck would have it, the first two cars held up on the Amparai Road carried some guys whom I knew at the ‘Varsity. They were returning from a hunting trip in the Gal Oya area and had been cursing at this procession that had delayed them for over two hours.
But when the garlands were removed for a moment, they found that I was the cause of all their trouble! So they started hooting: ‘Ado Aru, Hoo! etc’, accompanied by appropriate expletives. Thus holding on to my pants, jumping for the fire crackers while walking ceremoniously on the pavada, trying to breathe through the garlands, I was also hooted by my friends. As soon as I reached the cursed co-operative store, I hastily cut the ceremonial ribbon and fled the scene as fast as I could – with all the roads opening up behind me! Thus ended an embarrassing episode of my short ceremonial life!
(The writer had a short career in the Ceylon Civil Service before accepting an appointment with FAO in Rome where he had a long career)
Features
Tusker Kavantissa’s death exposes Sri Lanka’s wildlife conservation crisis
by Prof. Ranjith Bandara,
Emeritus Professor, University of Colombo
This article examines why community exclusion, excessive bureaucratic control, unequal distribution of conservation benefits, weak institutional accountability, and short-sighted political leadership continue to undermine wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka.
The death of Tusker Kavantissa is more than the loss of one of Sri Lanka’s most remarkable wild elephants. It exposes uncomfortable questions about how we protect our natural heritage, how conservation decisions are made, and why repeated warnings have failed to produce meaningful reforms. His death should compel us to examine not only what happened to one extraordinary animal, but also the deeper weaknesses in our wildlife conservation system.
Tusker Kavantissa, one of Sri Lanka’s most prominent wild tuskers, died on 16 October, 2026, after receiving veterinary treatment for an injury, reportedly caused by gunfire. Although the wound had shown some improvement, his health subsequently deteriorated. The precise cause of death requires confirmation through a proper post-mortem examination. Nevertheless, the circumstances raise serious questions about preventive protection, wildlife management, and institutional preparedness.
The wider picture is equally disturbing. According to recently reported figures, Sri Lanka has lost an average of approximately 402 elephants and 138 people annually, since 2019, due to human–elephant conflict. These figures reflect a continuing national tragedy affecting both wildlife and rural communities.
What Sri Lanka faces today is not merely a wildlife conservation problem. It is also a crisis of environmental governance, shaped by institutional weaknesses, political decisions, and the failure to recognise the economic and social realities of conservation.
Conservation without communities
One of the fundamental weaknesses of our conservation approach is that local communities are often treated as subjects of regulation rather than partners in conservation. They are expected to bear the risks, respect restrictions, and cooperate with government programmes, yet their influence over decisions affecting their lives remains limited.
For rural families living alongside wild elephants, conservation is not an abstract environmental objective. It directly affects their safety, agricultural income, property, and everyday lives.
Farmers frequently possess valuable knowledge about elephant movements, vulnerable locations, seasonal changes, and practical protection measures. Yet conservation interventions are sometimes designed without adequately considering this experience.
When decisions are imposed from above, communities may feel excluded from programmes they are expected to support. This weakens trust, reduces cooperation, and ultimately undermines conservation outcomes.
We must recognise that protecting elephants and protecting farmers are not conflicting objectives. Both are essential. A conservation policy that safeguards wildlife while neglecting human security cannot be considered successful.
The real challenge is to replace conservation imposed on communities with conservation undertaken alongside them. Meaningful participation requires more than consultation meetings. Communities must have a genuine role in planning, implementing, monitoring, and evaluating conservation activities.
Bureaucratic authority versus public accountability
Wildlife conservation requires strong institutions, professional expertise, and effective regulations. However, excessive bureaucratic control can become an obstacle when administrative authority takes precedence over practical outcomes.
Decision-making in Sri Lanka’s conservation system remains heavily dependent on central institutions. Administrative procedures, overlapping responsibilities, and limited coordination can delay responses to urgent problems.
More importantly, excessive centralisation can discourage local innovation and prevent communities from contributing practical solutions.
When administrative authority becomes more important than results, conservation risks becoming an exercise in controlling people rather than protecting nature.
This criticism should not be confused with questioning the dedication of frontline wildlife officers and veterinarians. Many work under difficult conditions with limited resources. The efforts undertaken to save Tusker Kavantissa deserve recognition.
However, individual commitment cannot compensate indefinitely for institutional weaknesses.
We must ask whether our conservation institutions have the capacity to identify risks early, protect vulnerable animals, coordinate emergency responses, and evaluate the effectiveness of their interventions.
Public accountability should, therefore, extend beyond compliance with administrative procedures to measurable conservation outcomes.
Who bears costs, and who receives benefits?
Perhaps the most neglected dimension of wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka is the unequal distribution of its economic costs and benefits.
Wild elephants contribute substantially to tourism, biodiversity, cultural heritage, and the country’s international image. Their conservation generates benefits enjoyed by society as a whole.
Yet the financial and personal costs are concentrated among rural communities living within elephant habitats.
A study published in 2023, involving 300 farming households in southern Sri Lanka, revealed a striking imbalance. Although these households lived near two national parks, none received economic benefits from tourism. Meanwhile, 57 percent had experienced elephant-related crop damage.
The findings raise a fundamental economic question: if the entire country benefits from elephant conservation, why should a relatively small and vulnerable section of society bear a disproportionate share of its costs?
Conservation cannot remain economically sustainable when its benefits are widely enjoyed but its costs are concentrated among those least able to bear them.
A separate study, published in 2024, involving 439 affected farming households, examined the possibility of financing compensation through tourism revenue. It demonstrated the potential for tourism-based financial mechanisms to support human–elephant coexistence.
The policy implications are significant
A proportion of wildlife tourism revenue could be directed towards affected communities through transparent benefit-sharing arrangements. Such measures could support compensation, village protection, local employment, community enterprises, and agricultural improvements.
However, financial compensation alone is insufficient. The 2023 study also indicated that fear of elephants and concerns about crop damage strongly influenced community attitudes. People must feel safe in their homes and farms, not merely receive payment after suffering losses.
Equitable benefit-sharing is, therefore, more than an act of generosity. It is an economic and social requirement for sustainable conservation.
Political decisions and absence of long-term vision
The weaknesses in wildlife conservation cannot be attributed solely to public officials. Political leadership must accept its share of responsibility.
Poor land-use planning, habitat fragmentation, obstruction of elephant movement corridors, and development decisions that inadequately consider environmental consequences have contributed to human–elephant conflict.
Political decisions made for immediate gains can create environmental and economic costs lasting for decades.
Another weakness is the preference for visible, short-term interventions.
Constructing electric fences, relocating elephants, and launching emergency operations can attract considerable publicity. However, such interventions should be evaluated according to their effectiveness, not their visibility.
Political leadership should be judged not by the number of conservation programmes announced, but by the lives protected, conflicts prevented, and long-term improvements achieved.
There is also a serious problem of policy continuity. Conservation cannot be governed according to electoral cycles or changing political priorities.
Elephant habitats, migration patterns, and ecological processes do not change with governments. Successful conservation, therefore, requires consistent national commitments extending beyond individual political administrations.
Without such continuity, public investment may be wasted while the underlying problems remain unresolved.
Problem is not always a lack of policy
Sri Lanka’s conservation crisis cannot be explained simply by a shortage of scientific knowledge or policy recommendations.
In many instances, the greater challenge lies in translating available knowledge into coordinated, adequately funded, and politically supported action.
The National Action Plan for the Mitigation of Human–Elephant Conflict, prepared in 2020, proposed a science-based approach that emphasised community participation, protection of villages and agricultural land, and more effective conflict-management strategies.
Yet an important question remains: how much of this plan has been implemented successfully?
Have implementation difficulties arisen from inadequate resources, weak institutional coordination, administrative resistance, or insufficient political commitment?
An independent assessment of the plan’s implementation would help identify these obstacles and establish clear responsibilities.
We must also recognise that a substantial proportion of Sri Lanka’s wild elephants live outside protected areas. Attempting to confine all elephants within national parks and forest reserves is, therefore, neither realistic nor sustainable.
Effective conservation requires land-use policies informed by elephant ecology, settlement patterns, agricultural needs, and the practical realities of human–wildlife coexistence.
A sound policy that remains largely unimplemented offers little protection to either elephants or people.
Towards more responsible conservation system
Sri Lanka needs a fundamental change in how wildlife conservation is governed.
Four priorities deserve immediate attention.
First, local communities must become genuine partners in conservation management, with meaningful responsibilities and decision-making opportunities.
Second, conservation benefits must be distributed more fairly. Wildlife tourism should contribute directly to protecting the livelihoods and safety of communities that bear conservation costs.
Third, existing national conservation plans should be independently reviewed to identify implementation gaps and establish a realistic timetable for corrective action.
Fourth, conservation institutions must become more accountable for measurable outcomes, including reductions in human deaths, elephant mortality, crop losses, and property damage.
These reforms require cooperation among wildlife, forestry, agriculture, land, irrigation, and local government institutions.
They also demand political leadership willing to prioritise long-term results over short-term publicity.
For exceptional animals, such as Tusker Kavantissa, improved risk monitoring, preventive protection, and timely veterinary responses are particularly important. However, conservation should not be limited to protecting a few well-known animals.
Every wild elephant has ecological value, just as every person living alongside elephants has an equal right to safety.
The objective must be a system that protects both.
Lesson tusker Kavantissa leaves behind
The death of Tusker Kavantissa should not become another moment of national sorrow that gradually fades from public memory. It should mark a turning point in how Sri Lanka approaches wildlife conservation.
A proper investigation into his death is essential. Equally important is an honest examination of the conservation system within which such tragedies continue to occur.
The real challenge is not choosing between people and elephants. It is creating a system in which both can coexist safely, and where the responsibilities, costs, and benefits of conservation are shared fairly.
This requires more than scientific expertise and stronger regulations. It demands accountable institutions, meaningful community participation, economic fairness, and political leadership guided by a clear long-term vision.
Our greatest failure would not be the loss of Tusker Kavantissa alone. It would be allowing the same weaknesses in our conservation system to claim more lives while we continue to avoid the reforms that could prevent them.
Features
Equality before the Law as foundation of Sri Lanka’s recovery
by Jehan Perera
The government appears set to overcome the first major challenge to one of its foundational principles. It has faced down demands from sections of the Buddhist clergy and opposition parties to release Ven. Galagodaatte Gnanasara from his prison sentence for contempt of court.
Ven Gnanasara is best known as the general secretary of the Bodu Bala Sena, a nationalist Sinhala grouping. The government seemed unfazed by a protest march organised by Buddhist monks and the opposition parties and its supporters organised an even bigger march to support the government’s position. It is notable that the general population did not get involved in either march in any substantial number. The issue has now become a test of whether the government will uphold its commitment to apply the law equally, irrespective of a person’s position or status, even when doing so brings it into conflict with a powerful constituency.
The case has a specific legal history. Ven. Gnanasara was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment by the Court of Appeal in 2018 for contempt of court in a case involving former military personnel where he disrupted the proceedings. The Supreme Court rejected his appeal in 2018. Former President Maithripala Sirisena subsequently granted him a presidential pardon in 2019. Last month, the Supreme Court invalidated that pardon. The initial demand by Buddhist monks and their lay supporters was that Ven. Gnanasara should be permitted to wear his Buddhist robes when appearing in public before the courts. The government has indicated its willingness to examine the procedures governing the treatment of Buddhist monks in prison, in consultation with the relevant religious authorities. However, the initial demand has now been escalated into a demand for a presidential pardon.
One of the central promises of the National People’s Power (NPP) during its election campaign two years ago was to apply the law equally to all. This commitment has shaped the government’s approach to allegations of corruption and criminality involving individuals who previously wielded political power. The NPP government was swept into power on a wave of antipathy towards those in previous governments who were perceived to have abused their positions for private gain. The economic collapse Sri Lanka experienced in 2022, and the hardships endured across society, remain vivid in the public memory. The past two years have seen the government pursuing those accused of corruption and other offences. Several high-ranking members of previous governments have faced arrest and legal proceedings and been sentenced to jail.
Religious Concerns
The ability of opposition parties to mobilise widespread resistance against proceedings involving their leaders has been limited, as much of the general population continues to favour accountability for past financial crimes. However, the case of Ven. Gnanasara is different. It does not concern allegations of financial corruption, but the relationship between religious authority, the courts and the law of the land. This is where the distinction between respecting religious traditions and upholding the law becomes crucial. There is a sense among sections of the general population that Buddhist monks should not be treated on a par with others and that requiring Ven. Gnanasara to appear in court without his robes was unjust and contrary to the national ethos. Such sentiments reflect the special place Buddhism occupies in Sri Lanka’s history and society. Sinhala Buddhist nationalism has been a potent political force throughout the country’s history, drawing on a heritage that extends back more than two millennia. The question is whether respect for Buddhism needs to also entail the exemption of individual monks from the ordinary requirements of the law and thereby treat them differently.
The challenge would be to accommodate legitimate religious concerns through rational and lawful procedures without allowing religious status to become a source of legal privilege. The government has been amenable to addressing the issue of monastic robes, but has so far resisted the demand to release Ven. Gnanasara through a new pardon. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and government members have made it clear that the government would not bend the law to accommodate any individual. They have taken the position that any shortcomings in existing rules should be addressed by changing the rules through proper procedures, rather than by making an exception for a particular individual. If the government holds its position, it will demonstrate that its commitment to the rule of law extends even to constituencies that have historically enjoyed considerable political influence.
This is important not only for the country’s democratic institutions but also for its economic future. Sri Lanka is seeking to recover from its economic collapse and establish the foundations for sustained growth. The International Monetary Fund’s analysis of Sri Lanka’s governance weaknesses has repeatedly emphasised the economic costs of corruption and institutional deficiencies. Its 2024 analysis of governance and growth concluded that comprehensive and coherent reforms could bring significant macroeconomic benefits. The IMF’s 2025 assessment also highlighted the importance of sustained governance reforms in unlocking the country’s growth potential. Investors, both domestic and foreign, need confidence that public institutions function according to predictable rules, that contracts and property rights are protected, and that political connections or social status will not determine how the law is applied.
Sensitive Issue
Sri Lanka has long sought the leap towards prosperity that has proved elusive under successive governments. Economic reform alone will not achieve it. The connection between the rule of law and economic prosperity is direct. Businesses are more likely to invest when they can expect disputes to be resolved fairly, public resources to be managed transparently and regulatory decisions to be made on rational grounds. No country can achieve a durable economic take-off if its institutions are perceived to operate according to political favour, inherited privilege or communal pressure. Sri Lanka cannot afford to return to a political culture in which powerful interests are shielded from accountability while ordinary citizens bear the costs.
Changing a political culture that has evolved over the decades if not centuries is a difficult undertaking, particularly in a country where political leaders have long relied on religious and communal identities to consolidate their support. It requires not only firmness but also sensitivity, dialogue and a willingness to reform laws and institutions where genuine deficiencies exist. The present controversy offers an opportunity to demonstrate that these objectives need not be in conflict. The government can respect the Buddhist clergy’s concerns about the treatment of monks in prison while refusing to grant an individual an exemption from a judicial sentence. It can recognise the importance of Buddhism to the country while maintaining that no religious or political authority stands above the law.
The question is whether national traditions and ethos are interpreted in ways that strengthen justice, responsibility and social harmony, or invoked to defend privileges that undermine them. The country needs a transformation in public expectations from privilege to accountability, from communal claims to equal citizenship, and from personal discretion to institutions governed by law.
The government’s handling of the case involving Ven. Gnanasara is therefore about more than one monk or one sentence. This particular case will determine whether the government can build a system in which no government, religious authority or politically influential individuals can place themselves beyond the law. A just society must be able to honour both its traditions and its commitment to equality before the law.
Features
Lure of old hometown too hard to resist
Lanka was his homeland, and now it’s Australia, based in Sydney. But for legendary performer Roger Menezes, the lure of his old hometown is just too hard to resist — and he keeps coming this way, ever so often!
Roger is in town at the moment — his fourth trip for this year alone! In fact, for the last few years, he has been checking out Sri Lanka on a very frequent basis.
This time, he says, he will be here for just two weeks, as he has heavy commitments, Down Under, as a performer.
On the 24th of this month, he will be seen in action at Broadway Dehiwela, celebrating their second anniversary. It’s a homecoming of sorts, as he was the very first artiste to perform live at this venue, on their opening night!
He goes back to Sydney in November for an early Christmas party, and will be back, in Colombo, in December, for more performances, with a pre-New Year’s Eve party at the Broadway, on 30th December.
Roger says he also takes the opportunity, whenever he visits Sri Lanka, to soak in the beauty of our country, especially the serene scenes away from the hustle and bustle of Colombo!

Roger Menezes: Fourth trip for this year
Roger Menezes is truly a remarkable talent, and it is always a sheer pleasure to look into the careers of musicians who have left such a lasting, indelible mark on Sri Lanka’s rich musical heritage.
Known for his signature “hits and memories” performance style — a nostalgic, heart-warming blend of jazz, pop, and classic rock — he remains a foundational figure of Sri Lanka’s golden era of music.
He was deeply integrated into Colombo’s swinging 1960s and 70s music scene.
He played drums for iconic groups like The Savages, Thunderbirds, and Fireflies, played guitar for Sam the Man, and joined the legendary band The Jetliners as their keyboardist, saxophonist, and guitarist (additionally recording bass guitar tracks). He also fronted his own much-loved ensemble, Roger and the Webs.
He migrated to Sydney, Australia, in the early ’70s and the legend only grew.
In Australia, he founded the highly successful corporate and event bands Eastern Spice and Stay Tuned (alongside his wife Cheryl and family). Under his leadership, Stay Tuned was heavily involved in providing entertainment for corporate functions, organised by the Sydney 2000 Olympic Committee. The group also headlined the New Year’s Eve festivities at Sydney’s iconic Centrepoint Tower for five consecutive years!
Today, he is widely celebrated as a highly adaptive one-man band, simultaneously navigating vocals, keyboards, guitar, saxophone, and drums — a one-man orchestra who truly does it all!
-
Latest News7 days agoNissanka’s return headlines Sri Lanka’s Test squad against Pakistan
-
News6 days agoSri Lanka, India caught in US-Iran ship crisis
-
Features2 days agoKotahena:A Small Enclave, An Extraordinary Legacy
-
Latest News7 days agoImran Khan’s PTI braces to fight federal takeover of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
-
Latest News6 days agoMissiles intercepted near Riyadh after Saudi coalition hits Yemen fuel depot
-
News3 days agoAsgiri Mahanayake calls for immediate release of Gnanasara Thera
-
Latest News6 days agoKusal Mendis’ unbeaten 87 hands Sri Lanka consolation win
-
Latest News7 days agoFormer Zimbabwe player and umpire Sarah Dambanevana dies aged 36
