Features
A Critical Analysis of Political Influence and the Future of Sri Lanka Police
Can We Rely on the Police?
The Sri Lanka Police is once again under scrutiny, with former IGP Deshabandu Tennakoon surrendering to the Matara Magistrate’s Court on Wedesday after nearly 20 days in hiding. His surrender comes after the Court of Appeal rejected his petition seeking a writ to prevent his arrest.
The Matara Magistrate had previously ordered his immediate arrest over a 2023 shooting incident in Weligama, ruling that the deployment of Colombo Crime Division (CCD) officers in this matter was unauthorized and that Tennakoon, along with eight other officers, conspired to commit murder. The sight of a former IGP evading arrest for weeks before finally turning himself in underscores the deep crisis within the police force.
As this incident unravels, numerous other cases come to light, exposing police misconduct at all levels. Former Senior DIG Lalith Jayasinghe, who was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment in 2023 for intimidating the Kahawatte OIC to refrain from arresting MP Premalal Jayasekera over a 2015 shooting incident, was convicted for the second time in 2025 and sentenced to four years of rigorous imprisonment for sheltering a key suspect in the rape and murder of schoolgirl Sivalokananthan Vidya in Jaffna.
A police constable is implicated in the Middeniya shooting, and a Negombo Police Crime Branch officer is arrested in connection with the assassination of Ganemulla Sanjeewa at the Colombo Magistrate’s Court. The public is left questioning: Is the police force upholding law and order, or must we now defend ourselves from the police as well?
The Sri Lanka Police motto is Dhammo Hawe Rakkathi Dhammachari—”Those who uphold the Dhamma are protected by it.” The mission of the Sri Lanka Police includes noble phrases like: “committed and confident to uphold and enforce the law,” “prevent crime,” and “prejudice to none—equity to all.” However, history provides notable examples of former officers of Sri Lanka Police whose legacies stand in direct contradiction to these ideals.
During the insurrection of 1987–1989, known as Bheeshana Samaya (the Dark Period of Terror), police officers were instrumental in mass extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances, abductions, and torture. The assassinations of human rights lawyer Wijedasa Liyanarachchi and journalist Richard de Zoysa and the Batalanda Torture Camp remain infamous testaments to police brutality. Today, decades later, the cycle continues—only the methods have evolved, becoming more discreet, but the end goal remains unchanged: serving the political regime at the cost of justice.
One of the key reasons behind police misconduct in Sri Lanka, when examined alongside its political landscape, is the force being caught in the crossfire of political power struggles. These struggles—like in any other country—are never fair, ethical, or transparent; they are corrupt, ruthless, and opportunistic. As a result, the police, who are responsible for upholding law and order, cannot escape the consequences, as their authority is dictated by politicians and regimes that are themselves deeply corrupt.
Under long-standing governments, high-ranking police officers shift their allegiance from protecting the state to safeguarding the political establishment. This loyalty is rewarded with promotions, influence, and impunity. The longer a regime lasts, the stronger this mutually beneficial relationship grows. Officers who obey political directives are granted a free pass for their crimes, and their unchecked power allows them to act with absolute impunity. Junior officers, meanwhile, find themselves trapped. If they refuse to comply with unlawful orders, they face unjust transfers, demotions, or even fabricated disciplinary actions. Fear ensures their obedience, perpetuating a system where corruption flourishes unchecked.
The 1980s and 1990s saw officers like former DIG Premadasa Udugampola, who is inextricably linked to crimes such as the murder of Wijedasa Liyanarachchi, the Eppawala Meegaswewa killings, and the massacre of 153 villagers in Kundasale—atrocities committed under his watch as DIG of the Southern, North-Central, and Central Provinces. ASP Douglas Peiris, another key figure, was exposed by the Batalanda Commission for his role—alongside Chief Inspector Ranjith Wickramasinghe and 11 other officers—in the illegal detention, torture, and murder of detainees at the Batalanda torture camp.
Testimony from Sub-Inspector Ajith Jayasinghe further revealed Peiris’s collaboration with underworld criminals like Gonawala Sunil, Soththi Upali, and Uragasmansandiye Shashendra—figures he was meant to bring to justice. These officers did not uphold the law; they enabled a regime that prioritized power over justice, knowing they would act with impunity.
Their brutality extended beyond JVP and PPM rebels. SLFP members, human rights activists, journalists, and other perceived threats to the government were systematically targeted. The Batalanda Commission explicitly named political figures—Ranil Wickremasinghe, Joseph Michael Perera, and John Amaratunge—as being fully aware of these police operations. Wickremasinghe, as Minister of Industries and Scientific Affairs, had directly instructed police conduct in anti-subversive activities at Batalanda, abusing his authority. It is therefore evident whose political agenda the police were serving.
Loyalty to the regime brought rapid, irregular promotions. Udugampola, as Gampaha SSP in 1982, unlawfully seized anti-referendum leaflets, violating fundamental rights—a ruling confirmed by the Supreme Court (Rathnasara v. Udugampola, 1983). Yet, weeks after the verdict, he was promoted, with the then United National Party government—led by J.R. Jayewardene—covering the legal costs and compensations to the victim. The Batalanda Commission similarly recorded Douglas Peiris’s promotion to ASP for “eliminating disruptive elements.” Former IGP Ernest Edward Perera later admitted— testifying before Batalanda Commission—that “elimination” was nothing more than extrajudicial killings. The message was clear—loyalty outweighed justice.
We see the same patterns repeating across different eras. Ronnie Gunasinghe, another officer notorious for his alleged involvement in enforced disappearances—including accusations related to the murder of journalist Richard de Zoysa—was widely known for his unwavering loyalty to President Ranasinghe Premadasa during his tenure (1989–1993). Similarly, under President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, SSP Bandula Wickramasinghe, then Director of the Crime Detective Bureau, was accused of maintaining close ties with key underworld figures.
The same blueprint resurfaced during the investigation into the 2009 murder of Lasantha Wickrematunga, when the Rajapaksa regime was in power. Two IGPs who served under Mahinda Rajapaksa were later found to have tampered with the investigation, while DIG Prasanna Nanayakkara was implicated in the cover-up. These cases further illustrate how, in every era, certain high-ranking police officers have served political agendas rather than upholding the law as an independent enforcement body.
Today, we see similar patterns in the case of former IGP Tennakoon. His record, too, is riddled with accusations. On December 14, 2023, the Supreme Court found him and two subordinates guilty of torturing a suspect and violating fundamental rights. The Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (HRCSL) recorded 24 custodial deaths—including that of drug kingpin Makandure Madush—in the Western Province between January 2020 and August 2023, during Tennakoon’s tenure as Senior DIG of the Western Province.
He allegedly instructed police officers not to inspect a suspicious lorry on April 5, 2019, at the Gelanigama entrance of the Southern Expressway. Additional accusations include threatening journalists, illegal arrests, abuse of state resources during the COVID-19 period, and interference in investigations. More decisions on Fundamental Rights petitions in which he is a key respondent are expected in the coming months of 2025. Therefore, it is abundantly clear that his record is far from that of a law enforcer committed to justice and order.
High-ranking officers who orchestrate these crimes often escape punishment, while their subordinates bear the consequences. Junior officers, forced to follow illegal orders, find themselves interdicted, dismissed, or prosecuted. Yet obedience is no excuse. In Wijeyauriya v. The State—also known as the Premawathi Manamperi case—the Supreme Court has made it clear: “If an order to a state official is obviously and manifestly illegal, it is the duty of the official to refuse to carry it out.”
The greatest tragedy is that, with the police force’s stance being so questionable and unreliable, citizens have no trustworthy institution to turn to for justice. A police force riddled with corruption cannot be trusted to investigate itself. When the very institution tasked with upholding law and order becomes a predator, the people are left defenseless.
Hence, if President Anura Kumara Dissanayake—who also serves as Minister of Defence—Acting IGP Priyantha Weerasooriya, and any law-abiding official are genuinely committed to reforming the police, there is only one path forward: stripping political influence from law enforcement. The police must be insulated from political control, with independent oversight bodies empowered to hold officers accountable. Recruitment and promotion criteria must reward integrity, not loyalty to regimes. Whistleblower protections must be strengthened so officers can report misconduct without fear of retaliation. Independent civilian review boards must be established to investigate complaints against police officers.
A police force that serves political interests rather than the people is a fundamental betrayal of justice. The longer this crisis persists, the more inevitable it becomes that citizens will seek alternative means to protect themselves—an outcome that benefits no one except those who thrive in chaos. The Sri Lanka Police must decide whether it stands for law and order or lawlessness and oppression. The people deserve nothing less than the truth.
By Niroshan Pathberiya,
Attorney-at-Law
Features
Peace march and promise of reconciliation
The ongoing peace march by a group of international Buddhist monks has captured the sentiment of Sri Lankans in a manner that few public events have done in recent times. It is led by the Vietnamese monk Venerable Thich Pannakara who is associated with a mindfulness movement that has roots in Vietnamese Buddhist practice and actively promoted among diaspora communities in the United States. The peace march by the monks, accompanied by their mascot, the dog Aloka, has generated affection and goodwill within the Buddhist and larger community. It follows earlier peace walks in the United States where monks carried a similar message of mindfulness and compassion across communities but without any government or even media patronage as in Sri Lanka.
This initiative has the potential to unfold into an effort to nurture a culture of peace in Sri Lanka. Such a culture is necessary if the country as the country prepares to move beyond its history of conflict towards a more longlasting reconciliation and a political solution to its ethnic and religious divisions. The government’s support for the peace march can be seen as part of a broader attempt to shape such a culture. The Clean Sri Lanka programme, promoted by the government as a civic responsibility campaign focused on environmental cleanliness, ethical conduct and social discipline, provides a useful framework within which such initiatives can be situated. Its emphasis on collective responsibility and shared public space makes it sit well with the values that peacebuilding requires.
government’s previous plan to promote a culture of peace was on the occasion of “Sri Lanka Day” celebrations which were scheduled to take place on December 12-14 last year but was disrupted by Cyclone Ditwah. The Sri Lanka Day celebrations were to include those talented individuals from each and every community at the district level who had excelled in some field or the other, such as science, business or arts and culture and selected by the District Secretariats in each of the 25 districts. They were to gather in Colombo to engage in cultural performances and community-focused exhibitions. The government’s intention was to build up a discourse around the ideas of unity in diversity as a precursor to addressing the more contentious topics of human rights violations during the war period, and issues of accountability and reparations for wrongs suffered during that dark period.
Positive Response
The invitation to the international monks appears to have emerged from within Buddhist religious networks in Sri Lanka that have long maintained links with the larger international Buddhist community. The strong support extended by leading temples and clergy within the country, including the Buddhists Mahanayakes indicates that this was not an isolated effort but one that resonated with the mainstream Buddhist establishment. Indeed, the involvement of senior Buddhist leaders has been particularly noteworthy. A Joint Declaration for Peace in the world, drawing on Sri Lanka’s own experience, and by the Mahanayakes of all Buddhist Chapters took place in the context of the ongoing peace march at the Gangaramaya Temple in Colombo, with participation from the diplomatic community. The declaration, calling for compassion, dialogue and sustainable peace, reflects an effort by religious leadership to assert a moral voice in favour of coexistence.
The popular response to the peace march has also been striking. Large numbers of people have been gathering along the route, offering flowers, water and support to the monks. Schoolchildren have been lining the roads, and communities from different religious backgrounds extend hospitality. On the way, the monks were hosted by both a Hindu temple and a mosque, where food and refreshments were provided. These acts, though simple, carry a message about the possibility of harmony among Sri Lanka’s diverse communities. It helps to counter the perception that the Buddhist community in Sri Lanka is inherently nationalist and resistant to minority concerns that was shaped during the decades of war and reinforced by political mobilisation that too often exploited ethnic identity.
By way of contrast, the peace march offers a different image. It shows a readiness among ordinary people to embrace values of compassion and coexistence that are deeply embedded in Buddhist teaching. The Metta Sutta, one of the most well-known discourses in Buddhism, calls for boundless goodwill towards all beings. It states that one should cultivate a mind that is “boundless towards all beings, free from hatred and ill will.” This emphasis on universal compassion provides a moral foundation for peace that extends beyond national or ethnic boundaries. The monks themselves emphasised this point repeatedly during the walk. Venerable Thich Pannakara reminded those who gathered that while acts of generosity are commendable, mindfulness in everyday life is even more important. He warned that as people become unmindful, they are more prone to react with anger and hatred, thereby contributing to conflict.
More Initiatives
The presence of political leaders at key moments of the march has emphasised the significance that the government attaches to the event. Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya paid her respects to the peace march monks in Kandy, while President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is expected to do so at the conclusion of the march in Colombo. Such gestures signal an alignment between political authority and moral aspiration, even if the translation of that aspiration into policy remains a work in progress. At the same time, the peace march has not been without its shortcomings. The walk did not engage with the Northern and Eastern parts of the country, regions that were most affected by the war and where the need for reconciliation is most acute. A more inclusive geographic reach would have strengthened the symbolic impact of the initiative.
In addition, the positive impact of the peace march could have been increased if more effort had been taken to coordinate better with other civic and religious groups and include them in the event. Many civil society and religious harmony groups who would have liked to participate in the peace march found themselves unable to do so. There was no place in the programme for them to join. Even government institutions tasked with promoting social cohesion and reconciliation found themselves outside the loop. The Clean Sri Lanka Task Force that organised the peace march may have felt that involving other groups would have made it more complicated to organise the events which have proceeded without problems.
The hope is that the positive energy and goodwill generated by this peace march will not dissipate but will instead inspire further initiatives with the requisite coordination and leadership. The march has generated public discussion, drawn attention to the values of mindfulness and compassion, and created a space in which people can imagine a different future. It has been a special initiative among the many that are needed to build a culture of peace. A culture of peace cannot be imposed from above nor can it emerge overnight. It needs to be nurtured through multiple efforts across society, including education, religious engagement, civic initiatives and political reform. It is within such a culture that the more difficult questions of power sharing, justice and reconciliation can be addressed in a constructive manner.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Regional Universities
The countryside and peripheral regions have been neglected in the national imagination for many decades. This has also been the case with regional universities which were seen as mere appendages to the university system, and sometimes created to appease political constituencies in the regions. The exclusion of the rural world and the institutions in those regions was not accidental nor inevitable, but the consequence of conscious policies promoted under an extractive and exploitative global order. Neoliberalism globalisation, initiated in the late 1970s with far-reaching policies of free trade and free flow of capital, or the “open economy,” as we call it in Sri Lanka, is now dying. The United States and the Western countries that promoted neoliberalism, as a class project of finance capital to address the falling profits during the long economic downturn in the 1970s, are themselves reversing their policies and are at loggerheads with each other. However, those economic processes will continue to have national consequences into the future.
At the heart of such policies is the neoliberal city, which has become the centre of the economy with expanding financial businesses and a real estate boom. Such financialised cities also had their impact on universities, in lower income countries, where commercialised education with high fees, rising student debt, research for businesses and transnational educational linkages with branch campuses of Western universities, have become a reality.
In the case of Sri Lanka, while neoliberal policies began with the IMF and World Bank Structural Adjustment Programmes, in the late 1970s, the long civil war forestalled the accelerated growth of the neoliberal city. I have argued, over the last decade and a half, that it is with the end of the civil war, in 2009, coinciding with the global financial crisis, that a second wave of neoliberalism in Sri Lanka led to global finance capital being absorbed in infrastructure and real estate in Colombo. The transformation of Colombo into a neoliberal city was overseen by Gotabaya Rajapaksa as Defence Secretary with even the Urban Development Authority brought under the security establishment. While Colombo was drastically changing with a skyline of new buildings and shiny luxury vehicles drawing on massive external debt, there were also moves to promote private higher education institutions. The Board of Investment (BOI) registered many hundred so-called higher education institutions; these were not regulated and many mushroomed like supermarkets and disappeared in no time when they incurred losses.
In contrast to these so-called private higher education institutions that proliferated in and around Colombo, Sri Lanka, drawing on its free education system, has, over the last many decades, also created a number of state universities in peripheral regions. However, these regional universities lack adequate funding and a clear vision and purpose. The current conjuncture with the neoliberal global order unravelling, and the immediate global crisis in energy and transport are grim reminders of the importance of local economies and self-sufficiency. In this column I consider the role of our regional universities and their relationship to the communities within which they are embedded.
Regional context
The necessity and the advantage of robust public services is their reach into peripheral regions and marginalised communities. This is true of public transport, as it is with public hospitals. Private buses will always avoid isolated rural routes as their margins only increase on the busy routes between cities and towns. And private hospitals and clinics flock to the cities to extract from desperate patients, including by unscrupulous doctors who divert patients in public hospitals to be served in the private health facilities they moonlight. Similarly, it is affluent cities and towns that are the attraction for private educational institutions.
Public institutions, including universities, can only ensure their public role if they are adequately funded. Over the last decade and a half, with falling allocations for education, our state universities have been pushed into initiating fee levying courses, both at the post-graduate level and also for undergraduate international students. These programmes are seen as avenues to decrease the dependence of universities on budgetary support. However, the reality is that it is only universities in Colombo that can draw in students capable of paying such high fees. Furthermore, such fee levying courses end up pushing academics into overwork including by offering additional income.
Therefore, allocations for underfunded regional universities need to be steadily increased. Housing facilities and other services for academics working in rural districts would ensure their continued presence and greater engagement with the local communities. Increased time away from teaching and research funding earmarked for community engagement will provide clear direction for academics. Indeed, such funding with a clear vision and role for regional universities can provide considerable social returns. In a time when repeated crises are affecting our society, agricultural production to bolster our food system as well as rural income streams and employment are major issues. Here, regional universities have an important role today in developing social and economic alternatives.
Reimagining development
In recent months, there have been interesting initiatives in the Northern Province, where the Universities of Jaffna and Vavuniya have been engaging state institutions on issues of development. In an initiative to bring different actors together, high level meetings have been convened between the staff of the Agriculture Faculty and officials of the Provincial Agriculture Ministry to figure out solutions for long pending agricultural problems. Similar meetings have also been organised between provincial authorities and the Faculties of Technology and Engineering in Kilinochchi. These initiatives have led to academics engaging communities and co-operatives on their development needs, particularly in formulating new development initiatives and activating idle projects and assets in the region. Such engagement provides opportunities for academics to share their knowledge and skills while learn from communities about challenges that lead to new problems for research.
One of the most rewarding engagements I have been part of is an internship programme for the Technology Faculty of the University of Jaffna, where four batches of final year students, from food technology, green farming and automobile specialities, have been placed for six months within the co-operative movement through the Northern Co-operative Development Bank. This initiative has created a strong relationship between the Technology Faculty and the co-operative movement, with a number of former students now working fulltime in co-operative ventures. They are at the centre of developing solutions for rural co-operatives, including activating idle factories and ensuring quality and standards for their products.
I refer to these concrete initiatives because universities’ role in research and development in Sri Lanka, as in most other countries, are often narrowly conceived to be engagement with private businesses. However, for rural regions, the challenge, even with technological development, is the generation of appropriate technologies that can serve communities.
In Sri Lanka, we have for long emulated the major Western universities and in the process lost sight of the needs of our own youth and communities. Rethinking the development of our universities may have to begin with an understanding of the real challenges and context of our people. Our universities and their academics, if provided with a progressive vision and adequate resources and time to engage their communities, have the potential to address the many economic and social challenges that the next decade of global turmoil is bound to create.
Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.
(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)
by Ahilan Kadirgamar
Features
‘Disco Lady’ hitmaker now doing it for Climate Change
The name Alston Koch is generally associated with the hit song ‘Disco Lady.’ Yes, he has had several other top-notch songs to his credit but how many music lovers are aware that Alston is one of the few Asian-born entertainers using music for climate advocacy, since 2008.
He is back in the ‘climate change’ scene, with SUNx Malta, to celebrate Earth Day 2026, with the release of ‘A Symphony for Change’ – a vibrant Dodo4Kids video by Alston.
The inspiring musical video highlights ocean conservation and empowers children as future climate champions, honouring Maurice Strong’s legacy through education, creativity, and global collaboration for a sustainable planet.
The four-minute animated musical, composed and performed by platinum award-winning artiste Alston Koch, brings to life a resurrected Dodo, guiding children on a mission to clean up marine environments.
With a catchy melody and an uplifting message, the video blends entertainment with education—making climate awareness accessible and engaging for the next generation.
SUNx Malta is a Climate Friendly Travel system, focused on transforming the global tourism sector that is low-carbon, SDG-linked, and nature-positive.
Professor Geoffrey Lipman, President of SUNx Malta, described the project as a joyful collaboration with purpose:
“It’s always a pleasure to produce music with Alston for the good of our planet. And this time, to incorporate our Dodo4Kids in the video urging the next generation of young climate champions to help save our seas.”
For Alston, now based in Australia, the collaboration continues a long-standing journey of climate-focused creativity:
Says Alston: “I have been working on climate songs since the first release, in 2009, of the video ‘Act Now.’ Since then, I’ve performed at major global events—from Bali to Glasgow. I wrote this song because the climate horizon is darkening, and our kids and grandkids are our best hope for a brighter future.”
Alston’s very first climate song is ‘Can We Take This Climate Change,’ released in 2008.
It was written by Alston for the World Trade Organisation presentation, in London, and presented at ‘Live the Deal Climate Change’ conference in Copenhagen.
The Sri Lankan-born singer was goodwill ambassador for the campaign, and the then UK Minister Barbara Follett called it a “gift in song to the world suffering due to climate change.”
Alston said he wrote it after noticing butterflies, birds, and fruit trees disappearing from his childhood days.
In 2017, his creation ‘Make a Change’ was released in connection with World Tourism Day 2017.
Alston Koch’s work on climate advocacy is pretty inspiring, especially as climate change is now creating horrifying problems worldwide, and in Sri Lanka, too.
Alston also indicated to us that he has plans to visit Sri Lanka, sometime this year, and, maybe, even plan out a date for an Alston Koch special … a concert, no doubt.
Can’t wait for it!
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