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Warner Troyer, Rupavahini, and me

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BY GEORGE BRAINE

This was early 1981, and the government was planning to start a state-run television service. Applicants were invited for an inaugural training course for producers, directors, researchers, and writers. I had applied, and was called for an interview.

The interview was at the newly set up National Television Planning Centre, at Kirulapone. Not having any political or family “strings”, I did not expect to go beyond a cursory meeting. But, to my surprise, I was met by a ruggedly good-looking, ebullient Canadian named Warner Troyer.

I can’t recall what we discussed, but he did point to a tall stack of papers, saying he had received thousands of applications. Apparently, the glamour of television, and the opportunity to become a pioneer, were irresistible (A newspaper later reported “over 5000 applicants”). Troyer and his wife, Glenys Moss, television personalities, had been invited by the Ministry of State to train the staff needed to run the television service. They were sponsored by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA).

Three years earlier, a team of experts had arrived from Japan to conduct a feasibility study on a television broadcasting project. Their report, submitted in October, 1978, recommended the establishment of a studio complex in Colombo, and transmission stations at Pidurutalagala, Kandy, and Kokavil. The total cost would be Yen 3500 million (Rs. 276 million). Personnel were to be trained abroad. In the end, Japan bore the cost of construction, and the Sri Lankan government may have decided to train the personnel locally.

The 12-week course, run by Warner and Glenys, began at the end of April, 1981. Thirty trainees, drawn from wide ranging backgrounds, were enrolled. We were university teachers, government servants, radio announcers (three from SLBC), print journalists (three from Lake House), school teachers, musicians, freelance writers, a translator, a law student, even a postmaster! Quite wisely, Warner had spread his net wide, not sticking only with journalists.

Manique Gunasekera and I were from Kelaniya University, and Somi Sekerama, Ranjit Senaratne, Ravinatha Ariyasinha, Shiranee Dissanayake, Ramesha Balasuriya, Sunil Govinnage, Kartini Mohamed, Nalin Wijesekera, Noeline Honter, Mohamed Yahiya, and Milton Fernando are the fellow trainees I easily recall. For employees in government departments, corporations, and the university, the Ministry of State had secured duty leave.

We first met at the National Television Planning Centre, to discuss various writing assignments that Warner set for us. A skilled teacher, he was also piercingly blunt with his criticism, without naming names. (Once, I was the target.) Gradually, we were introduced to camera angles, face-to-face interviews, screenwriting, the various roles of personnel within a production team, the hands-on use of camera and recording equipment, and related matters. We also made field trips to SLBC, the Parliament, and ITN, the small television station established a few years earlier.

While the training was going on, the infrastructure for the national television service was springing up: the central transmitting station on top of Pidurutalagala, the re-transmitting stations at Kokavil and Kandy, and the studio complex in Colombo, next to the SLBC. Then, the name for the service, Rupavahini, was announced. Some trainees were giddy with excitement.

Once we had leaned the rudiments of production, six teams were formed, each tasked with the production of a short documentary. Team members, selected by Warner, consisted of a producer, director, writer, cameraman, and a researcher. As the producer of my team, I worked with Ramesha, Milton, Yahiya, and Joe Sothinathan, making decisions and coordinating the tasks.

The Troyers were living in a sprawling two-storied house, in Borella, and the teams began meeting there. We spread out on the ground floor, in teams, brainstorming ideas for documentaries, checking out the cameras and editing equipment that had been supplied to every team. Warner and Glenys were easy-going hosts, giving us the run of their home. Warner and Glenys were always around, to answer our queries and make suggestions.

I lived 40km from Colombo, and took the train to Colombo. Every day, I travelled in jam-packed trains, with some passengers hanging out of the doors, a few even riding on the engine. Occasionally, this overcrowding led to brutal deaths – passengers falling off trains and getting run over, or getting their heads bashed on bridges. I also passed the vast railway yard at Maradana, where dozens of carriages sat idle, in various states of neglect, some even covered in weeds. A wasteland. The contrast was stark: overflowing trains and abandoned carriages, and I had my story.

The script got written, and we scouted locations for filming: Maradana railway station, the nearby railway yard strewn with abandoned carriages, the railway workshop at Ratmalana, and the Dematagoda crossing, among others. We got permission to film at these locations. Each team was provided with a vehicle and a driver.

When filming began, I began to take the 4.00am train from home, to be in Colombo as early as possible. I vividly recall two incidents during filming: at Dematagoda, two office trains racing each other towards Maradana, overflowing with passengers hanging out from the doors, which later became a dramatic shot in our documentary; and being hooted at by a trainload of office workers while filming crowded evening trains at Maradana station. Perhaps a group of people carrying television cameras and equipment was a never-before-seen phenomenon at that time.

In the script, I compared carriages being brought to the railway yard to “die” to the belief that elephants journey to Sinharaja for the same purpose. The lines were delivered smoothly by Milton Fernando clinging precariously to an abandoned carriage. Filming had other challenges. Another team had scheduled some shooting at the slums of Wanathamulla. A crowd of residents had surrounded the team and cast lewd remarks.

In my team, we had come up with the idea, written the script, selected the shooting locations, and imagined how the documentary would turn out. When it did, the act of creation – from idea to moving images – can only be described as seductive.

On the last day of the course, Warner and Glenys sat with all the trainees to watch the six documentaries together. The range of topics covered, the way they were handled, was fascinating, considering that, for everyone, this was the first production. Warner and Glenys must have been pleased: they had taken a group of greenhorns and brought them to the threshold of television professionalism.

A bittersweet moment, because, although the course was ending, most trainees would go on for specialized training before joining Rupavahini the following year. Not for me. For economic reasons, I had decided to take-up a foreign job.

When I met with Warner to inform him I would be leaving, he was crestfallen, saying that national television sorely needed someone with my background and skills.

I saw what he meant when my Training Diploma arrived. To quote:

“Mr. Braine brought very impressive academic, intellectual and career skills to his participation in the course.

“He is very well organized, disciplined, and highly motivated.

“Mr. Braine’s writing skills are considerable, and have shown visible improvement (in the area of television scripting) during the course.

“We believe he has a very bright potential future in the areas of educational and public affairs television, and would function very effectively as a producer”.

Somewhere deep in our hearts lurks the desire to write, to crusade, to expose corruption, to investigate criminals. I was no exception. For a news junkie, like me, to be at the creation of television in Sri Lanka, to break new ground in a medium with so much appeal, would have been a dream come true. I did regret my decision when, returning home on vacation, in 1982, I paid a visit to the gleaming, state-of-the art studio complex that the Japanese Government had gifted. My fellow trainees, assuming various roles that the Troyers had trained them for, were already producing high quality news programmes and documentaries.

I recently learned that, during a 40-year career, Warner had “conducted more than 10,000 radio and television interviews authored seven bestselling books, and written/directed/produced more than 600 documentary films”.

His best-known work, Preserving our World (1990) – described as a blueprint to save our planet – carries a posthumous dedication to Warner as someone who committed “his life to making the world a better place’.

Warner died in 1991, of throat cancer. He was only 59.

Wikipedia says that the Troyers “established a journalism school in Sri Lanka” in the early 1980s. As this narrative has shown, they did much more than that. Warner and Glenys firmly left their imprint on those early, glorious years of Rupavahini.



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Opinion

The eternal pilgrimage of Hajj: A journey through faith, sacrifice and humanity

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Hajj pilgrims

Every year, the spiritual compass of the Muslim world turns towards the holy city of Makkah, where millions of pilgrims gather for Hajj — one of humanity’s oldest and most profound journeys of faith.

This year, too, the sacred valleys of Saudi Arabia are filled with the echoes of “Labbaik Allahumma Labbaik” — “Here I am, O Allah, here I am” — as Muslims from every continent respond to a divine call that dates back thousands of years to Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham).

Among them are thousands of Sri Lankan pilgrims, dressed in simple white garments, leaving behind worldly status, wealth and identity in pursuit of spiritual purification and closeness to God.

According to Muslim Affairs authorities, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has allocated a Hajj quota of 3,500 pilgrims for Sri Lanka for Hajj 2026, enabling devotees from across the island to undertake the sacred pilgrimage. The annual allocation is determined through agreements between Saudi Arabia and Muslim-majority and minority nations worldwide.

Since early this month at the Bandaranaike International Airport in Katunayake, emotional scenes unfolded as families bade farewell to departing pilgrims with tears, embraces and prayers.

Elderly parents clutched prayer beads, children waved anxiously, while relatives sought blessings from loved ones embarking on the once-in-a-lifetime spiritual journey.

For many Sri Lankan Muslims, performing Hajj is not simply travel — it is the fulfilment of a lifelong dream nurtured through years of prayer, sacrifice and savings.

In villages, towns and cities across Sri Lanka, preparations for Hajj often begin months or even years in advance. Some families save gradually over decades, while elderly pilgrims regard the journey as the culmination of a lifetime of devotion.

Hajj is the fifth pillar of Islam and is obligatory for every financially and physically able Muslim at least once in a lifetime.

Yet the pilgrimage is far more than a religious obligation.

It is a journey deeply rooted in the story of Prophet Ibrahim, known as Abraham in Christianity and Judaism, and revered across the Abrahamic faiths as a towering symbol of faith, obedience and sacrifice.

Islamic tradition recounts how Prophet Ibrahim was commanded by Allah to leave his wife Hajjar and infant son Ismail in the barren desert valley of Makkah. With unwavering faith in God’s wisdom, Ibrahim obeyed.

Left in the scorching desert with little water or food, Hajjar desperately searched for water for her thirsty child, running seven times between the hills of Safa and Marwa.

Her determination, courage and trust in God are immortalised in the rituals of Hajj today.

Pilgrims reenact Hajjar’s desperate search by walking between Safa and Marwa, symbolising perseverance, faith and hope even in moments of despair.

According to Islamic belief, Allah answered Hajjar’s prayers by causing the miraculous Zamzam well to spring forth beneath baby Ismail’s feet — a well that continues to provide water to millions of pilgrims centuries later.

Another defining moment in Ibrahim’s story is commemorated during Hajj and Eid-ul-Adha — the willingness of the Prophet to sacrifice his beloved son in obedience to God’s command.

As Ibrahim prepared to carry out the sacrifice, Allah replaced Ismail with a ram, signifying that faith, sincerity and submission were greater than the act itself.

The symbolic stoning of the devil during Hajj recalls Ibrahim’s rejection of Satan’s temptations that sought to discourage him from obeying God.

Thus, every ritual of Hajj carries profound historical and spiritual meaning.

The pilgrimage is not simply movement through sacred spaces; it is a reenactment of timeless lessons in obedience, sacrifice, patience and devotion.

One of the most remarkable aspects of Hajj is the extraordinary equality it represents.

Pilgrims, regardless of nationality, race, language or social class, wear the same simple white attire, known as Ihram.

Presidents, businessmen, labourers and farmers stand side by side in prayer, under the blazing Arabian sun, erasing worldly distinctions and affirming the Islamic belief that all human beings are equal before God.

Religious scholars often describe Hajj as the world’s greatest annual demonstration of unity and humility.

The spiritual climax of the pilgrimage occurs at the plains of Arafat, where pilgrims spend hours in prayer and repentance seeking divine forgiveness.

Many Muslims believe that a sincerely accepted Hajj cleanses a believer of past sins and marks the beginning of a spiritually renewed life.

Upon returning home, pilgrims are honoured with the title “Hadji” or “Hajji,” a distinction that carries immense respect within Muslim communities, including in Sri Lanka.

Traditionally, a Hadji is viewed as someone who has fulfilled one of Islam’s most sacred obligations and returned with heightened spiritual responsibility.

However, Islamic scholars emphasise that the title is not merely ceremonial.

“The true significance of becoming a Hadji lies in personal transformation,” a Colombo-based Islamic scholar said.

“A pilgrim is expected to return with greater humility, compassion, honesty and social responsibility. Hajj is not about status; it is about becoming a better human being.”

Across Sri Lanka, mosques have been conducting special prayers for pilgrims, while families gather to seek blessings before departure.

The pilgrimage season also creates a unique emotional atmosphere within Muslim communities, where neighbours visit departing pilgrims and homes become centres of prayer and reflection.

Saudi Arabia has introduced extensive arrangements this year to facilitate the pilgrimage, including digital crowd management systems, improved transport networks, upgraded accommodation and enhanced healthcare services.

Sri Lankan diplomats and officials, stationed in Saudi Arabia, have been coordinating closely with Saudi authorities to ensure the welfare and smooth movement of Sri Lankan pilgrims throughout the pilgrimage period.

Sri Lanka’s Ambassador to Saudi Arabia, Ameer Ajwad, recently inspected facilities in Mina, prepared for Sri Lankan pilgrims, and reaffirmed efforts to provide a safe and spiritually fulfilling Hajj experience.

As millions circle the Holy Kaaba in prayer, Hajj continues to stand as one of the most extraordinary gatherings on Earth — a timeless spiritual movement connecting humanity across borders, cultures and generations.

For Sri Lanka’s pilgrims, the sacred journey is not merely a passage to Makkah.

It is a journey into the soul — a return to the eternal lessons of Prophet Ibrahim, Hajjar and Ismail — lessons of sacrifice, endurance, obedience and unwavering faith that continue to inspire humanity centuries later.

By Ifham Nizam

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Opinion

Remembrance Day, 19 May 26: Was it traduced?

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War Heroes Memorial

‘Ferocious in battle, Magnanimous in victory (Col Tim Collins- Brit Army)

Sri Lanka commemorated the 17th anniversary of the end of the 30-year Eelam conflict with a moving War Heroes Remembrance Day ceremony on 19 May 26 at the monument on the Parliament grounds. It was a solemn occasion when the Nation paid tribute to over 29,000 Defence and Police people (women and men) who died in the conflict. Sadly, politics, aberrations and theatrics were also on display.

The gravity of the sacrifices made and consequences of the Eelam war and two Southern terrorist insurgencies (1971 and 1988-9), are felt mostly by those who lost their loved ones in the conflicts as the nation mourns with them. Any hesitation to pay tribute belittle the fallen.

It was regrettable to see that the ceremony was also political. Why were the general public excluded from honouring the fallen? It defies understanding that such actions could take place at an event held sacred by the nation. Is there any other country where citizens are prevented from laying wreaths at a National Remembrance monument?

In the UK, from where this ceremony originates, 10,000 veterans (of an army of 109,000 -just half of Sri Lanka’s) take part in the march past every November. They are selected by their regimental associations from thousands of applications on a first come first served basis. Public access is unrestricted with numbers attending being the only barrier to viewing.

It is shocking that in Sri Lanka while public access is denied (selectively?), ‘invitations’ are given to attend a national Remembrance Day. They were restricted to just three government nominees! Who made this unwise decision and why?

Did the other government cohorts object to being invited? Would they have been embarrassed to come? Is the purpose of this to prevent prominent actors in the victory from receiving overwhelming accolades if they attended? Was there a fear of gate crashing? Perish the thought.

What is the need to make political speeches at an event to honour the nation’s dead? Couldn’t the speeches be made in Parliament or broadcast the day before? Seeing VIPs enjoying a joke at this ceremony hurts.

When laying wreaths at the monument, national customs should be followed by all, as in the past. A traditional low bow with hands clasped humbly, as at funerals, should be the form. In the West the head is bowed. It is unnecessary to imitate Americans by placing one hand over the heart when bowing, as on CNN. Bringing the other hand over the midriff elaborates but is an awkward addition.

The dress for all civilians attending should be similar, respectful and appropriate as for formal events and uniform, matching that of the retired military.

This is the time for the nation to remember and reflect for a moment on the dead in conflict, not only of the Military and Police who sacrificed their lives in thousands doing their duty but also of the innocent civilians who died in tens of thousands. Or, is it that some, other than the NOK, who survived in the North and South, have become hardened to death and do not wish to recall how appalling the losses were? Has death lost its meaning if also not its sting?

During 1988-9, when 60,000 died in 13 months (over 100 a day), a tea planter in Bandarawella was shot dead by Southern terrorists for hoisting the national flag on Independence day.

In the Eelam conflict just one regiment, (regiments are the core and heart of the Army), Gemunu Watch, lost 3,424 KIA and 4,272 WIA. The Imperial British Army after WWII lost 2551 (just over half of the Gemunu Watch number) in war in Korea (1949-51), Falklands (1982), Iraq, Afghanistan (20 years) and 40 years of insurgency in Northern Ireland. (SL Army infantry regiments (SL Light Infantry, Sinha, Gemunu, Gajaba and Vijayba) had about 19,000 of 21,000 of the Army KIA. That is the enormity of the sacrifices made by our indomitable military. Who then struggled to find heroes in the military?

Fisher Weerasuriya from Matara and farmer Vernugopal from Jaffna who never knew each other were brought to a place hundreds of miles from their villages, to blow each other’s brains out. ‘Had they a quarrel? Busy as the devil is, not the smallest. Their political leaders had fallen out; and instead of shooting one another had the cunning to get these blockheads to shoot each other’ (transcribed from ‘Sartor Resartus’ – Carlyle). Do Sri Lankan politicians who stirred the pot not know this when they fervently say they hope to prevent conflict in the future?

Is it correct then to exult that 6,000 troops died in the last phase of the war? Is that an achievement? As FM Montgomery said of the WW1 British Army “Good fighting Generals of the war appeared to have complete disregard for life’.

Reparations are claimed by the winners in wars between nations. After civil conflicts there should be reconciliation. There should be no humiliation. When will commemoration of the dead be national in Sri Lanka? How many from communal minorities attend this ceremony? Every citizen from North to South should be welcomed to attend Remembrance ceremonies in the future. That will hopefully help to sow unity.

The military died without a murmur for their companions so that the nation would survive. Let next year’s commemoration be a truly national event where the focus is on those who died while veterans in large numbers and the next of kin together with the general public, are warmly welcomed.

“If it be life that awaits, I shall live forever unconquered: If Death I shall die at last strong in my pride and free”. – Scottish National Memorial

 

by Old Soldier

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Opinion

Undermining the democratic political framework

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Aragalaya betrayed? ‘The treason of the intellectuals’ in the age of populism – Part II

The JVP/NPP conceptualisation of the ‘Jathika punarudaya’ (national renaissance) interpreted the Sri Lankan Renaissance as the aspiration to regain the moment we lost in the global modernisation project, which is believed to have emerged in the twentieth century as a result of the Western European Renaissance and Enlightenment imagination. Jathika punarudaya values modernity as the era of citizens based on a representative democratic model founded on a common social contract. It values human rights, civil rights, and political rights as the core of modernity. It values social interventions based on the values of social justice and collectivism. But is the current government acting on the basis of those renaissance beliefs that they claim to believe in?

This government came to power within the framework of bourgeois parliamentary democracy. However, the opposition alleges that the government is working to limit the right of the opposition to question the government’s actions within that framework, and within Parliament itself. The continued postponement of provincial council elections by the government has been criticized as a delay in the implementation of decentralised political power, especially in provinces inhabited by Tamils and Muslims.

The promise to abolish the executive presidency and restore a parliamentary-based political power structure continues to be postponed. This has drawn attention as a possible way to suppress trade union activities and intimidate political activists through repressive laws such as the Public Security Act and the Emergency Law, which are continuously implemented through the authoritarian use of the power of the executive presidency.

‘Honest party leadership,’ not the institutional system

The JVP, the core political party of the current government, which insists that its members are honest, claims that even if they violate certain rules and regulations in the course of governing, there is nothing wrong with it because it is not done for personal interest but for the common good. This implies that this government does not rely on rules, regulations, and a system of institutions built to last, but rather on the leaders of its own party, the JVP, whose leaders believe themselves to be honest. The system of institutions established on rules and regulations is for the rest of the people.

Attempts to subjugate institutions and public opinion to the government’s opinion

It is apparent that the government wants to implement its pre-designed agenda without any hindrance. To that end, the government is trying to subjugate all institutions and public opinion to its sole opinion. The most striking example of this approach is the government’s attempt to implement, without any genuine public discussion, neoliberal reforms formulated by previous governments regarding national education, which will have a decisive impact on the future of the country. The leadership brags that the proposed education reforms will be implemented as originally designed, regardless of any criticism or objections.

The government sets up committees at the local level claiming to represent the public, but people complain that they exclude anyone who does not conform to their way of thinking.

Freedom of expression

Civil rights activists say the current government’s continued use of the Online Safety Act, which was passed by the previous government despite public opposition, poses a serious threat to freedom of expression. Freedom of expression has been suppressed under the guise of legality. The government has made it a policy to summon and question individuals who criticise the government—even national-level politicians—at the CID. This amounts to intimidating its critics.

The government has not only broken its promises by failing to repeal the existing PTA but is also attempting to pass a new anti-terrorism law that local and international civil rights organizations have unanimously condemned as even more repressive. It has been stated that there is scope for the proposed new law to intensify the current use of anti-terrorism law as a weapon to suppress freedom of expression.

The Arts Council has become an arts police!”

The latest instance of the government’s attempt to curb freedom of expression that has come under serious public criticism is the detention of four books by a Sri Lankan writer, Theebachelvan, who writes in Tamil, by Sri Lankan Customs when they were brought into the country from India. Later, a statement issued by the Director of Customs said that two of the novels would be released based on recommendations issued by the National Arts Council and the Literary Council, while the other two would not be released based on the recommendations of those boards and the Ministry of Defense.

The statement that The Arts Council has become an arts police!” sums up the public protest that arose questioning the legal and moral rights of the members of the Arts Council and the Literary Council who have received political appointments” to measure and mark the boundaries of freedom of speech and expression at their own discretion” by giving such recommendations and assuming a power that they do not have.

Going beyond this general situation, the serious question that has been raised is: on what basis did Customs consider the views expressed in the two books by Theebachelvan that have been censored to be equivalent to the crime of ‘sedition’ under Section 120 of the Penal Code, which was cited as the reason for the detention? A related question is whether there is a connection between the allegation of sedition and the fact that the writer is a Tamil from Kilinochchi.

The irony here is the intervention of the current government’s Minister of Culture, the heads of the Arts Council under the Ministry of Culture, and its own literary sub-council in deciding this matter, along with the follow-up statements defending the government’s decision made by the same authorities, as well as by writers, artists, intellectuals, and academics who have been holding positions under the current government and those who have not.

There was strong public criticism that these individuals—who were believed to have held radical, liberal views on freedom of expression and ethnic rights before the current government came to power—have been appointed to various positions under the current government and now approve its repressive decisions in the name of ethnic reconciliation.

The following sentiments extracted from the comments made by Sumathy Sivamohan on her FB page, expressing her shock at a statement made by one of the leading Sinhala writers involved in making such statements, encapsulate the essence of the public criticism of the issue:

I am shocked at [name of the person]’s words on the detainment of Theebachelvan’s works by Customs. … The radicalness, the liberalness, are just thin veneers of their Sinhala-only stances. …. Now, they talk of Reconciliation. Reconciliation via Repression. …. Reconciliation, my foot! …. reconciliation is in your head, I think …. [I am] outraged. But now, [I] am certain of one thing. This is the bluff and bluster of liberals. …. That [name of the person] and others think, when Sinhala people think there’s reconciliation, there’s reconciliation, smacks of very deep-rooted racism

I don’t understand the argument, ‘we have to protect this government’ sentiment, touted by many liberals, who in intimate circles voice criticism. And these are the same people who supported the LTTE too, when it suited them—their liberal Sinhala agendas. … Now, they are blubbering …. it is shocking, for it whisks the mask off the faces of these liberal faces. There is a side of Sinhala liberalism that slavishly supports sentiments pertaining to the LTTE. They are the same, they are all the same. Those radicals, those liberals, those everybody, who think because they are Sinhala they have superior knowledge of matters. Sickening.” (reproduced with permission). (To be continued)

by Kumudu Kusum Kumara

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