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A failed government is destroying our children; how long will we stand watching?

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By Ruwanthie de Chickera

In May 2022, over half a million 16-year-old Sri Lankan children sat their Ordinary Level (OL) examination. Passing this exam is necessary for them to continue with their schooling.

This batch (referred to as the 2021 OL batch, as their exam was meant to be held in December 2021) was only 14 years old and had just begun their first year preparing for the OLs when, in March 2020, Covid hit Sri Lanka. First because of the pandemic and then, because of the political and economic collapse brought about by government incompetence, corruption and mismanagement, the country’s local schools have remained shut for the majority of the time between March 2020 and May 2022 – this batch’s entire OL period.

Here is a breakdown of school closures during this time.

An average year has 195 school days.

These children, preparing for the first and (as we all remember) most daunting public exam of their lives, missed 111 school days in 2020 (their first OL year) and 154 school days in 2021 (their second OL year). In 2022, when the country shifted from the Covid crisis to the political and economic crisis, chaos continued to pervade. The country disintegrated into riots, experienced state instigated violence, citizen protests, intermittent curfews, daily power cuts, fuel crises, transport issues, food crises, gas shortages, parliamentary instability and astronomical rises in the cost of living.

Our children’s lives – their physical security, psychological wellbeing, access to school, happiness, peace, stability – continued to be severely compromised. Even when schools remained open, many children could not attend school. Transport problems, food problems, children having to take up jobs, families falling apart… these crises continue into the foreseeable future.

Access to education is a right and a responsibility

The Sri Lankan constitution’s directive principles recognise, as a central objective of the State, the “assurance to all persons of the right to universal and equal access to education at all levels”; and guides Parliament, the President and Cabinet to facilitate this.

However, the Sri Lankan government has persistently failed to provide children with education and the necessary infrastructure to access education since 2020. In spite of not adhering to this basic responsibility; with no acknowledgement of this failing, nor with any apparent consideration for the damage caused to children’s lives; the government, instead, increases pressure on children and families by insisting on the ritual of arduous public exams.

This article poses two fundamental questions:

1. If a government cannot provide children with access to schools, can it legitimately conduct exams?

2. Are we willing to allow a failed, bankrupt government to hold the children of this country hostage?

The adults collude, the children pay the price

In September 2020, six months into the pandemic, the NIE produced a ‘Reduced Syllabus’ of ‘Essential Learning Outcomes’ for all grades. This was released to schools with the assurance that children at the OL exam will only be tested on the same. In January 2021, (four months later and six weeks before 2020 batch OL exam), the Ministry of Education (MOE) informed schools that children would, in fact, be tested from the entire syllabus at the OL exam. Nothing was done to challenge or expose this serious malfunction.

All crises in Sri Lanka lead to the black hole of accountability. And it is to the advantage of a failed government to keep the workings of the state mechanism opaque. How did such a serious mistake even come about? Was it through ignorance? (The MOE didn’t know about the NIE circular). Was it a clash of egos? (Someone in the MOE wanted to embarrass someone in the NIE) Was it an administrative error? (The Exams Department hadn’t got the memo…?)

The tragedy of our bankrupt country is that any of the above three scenarios is plausible. The compounding tragedy is that those responsible are never held to account.

In this manner we move forward from crisis to crisis. Those in power make disastrous mistakes. Those above them, around them and below them keep quiet. The victims are always the most helpless.

Children, destroyed by our education system, disappear from our schools, from our country, sometimes from life itself. (Sri Lanka has one of the highest rates of teenage suicide in the world).

A Reckoning Awaits

For many years now we have all settled into our own little corners of this broken mechanism. From these places we have fed thousands of unaddressed ‘corruptions’ – the big and little injustices, the individual and collective silences, the public and longstanding farces. All these games have, together, cannibalized the system that runs our lives, and now we are in the middle of a seemingly unending catastrophe.

At this reckoning, with nothing but the certainty of total collapse ahead of us, we adults need to ask ourselves, if those in charge of our children’s education are not capable of, interested in or committed to caring for our children, are we going to continue to do nothing?

Righteous paralysis

For years, honest, well-meaning Sri Lankans have mastered the art of righteous paralysis. We blame the system, blame politicians, blame the lack of space and opportunity for change. The more corruption grows, the smaller we make our circles of influence; the more blatant the political travesties, the more humbly we set our own victories. Courage becomes Steadfastness, Compliance is confused with Compromise, Leaders become Administrators, Big Dreams and Risky Battles are avoided At All Cost. We have gotten used to keeping our heads down, mouths shut, staying focused on our jobs, in the hope that we can make a small change within our own safe worlds. As parents, teachers, principals or State officials with a conscience, this means we do our best within a corrupt system, without drawing too much attention to ourselves. We find righteous purpose in quietly mopping up the damage caused by the big mistakes we inherit. However, we do little to actually stop these mistakes being made in the first place or (even more damning!) being repeated again and again.

Through our own example, we teach our children to endure rather than question. To comply rather than challenge. To blame rather than take responsibility.

Citizenship redefined

However, over the past two months, the shape and scope of citizenship has been redefined in Sri Lanka. We have seen what can be achieved when ordinary people risk their lives and jobs and stand together for a higher cause. Citizens have shown politicians and each other that real power lies, not with the few small men who sit behind large desks, but amongst the many who dare dream of and work towards a better future.

A space has opened up in Sri Lanka which most of us would not have dreamed possible. A space of possibility – possibility for real change but change that requires real courage.

If the adults of this country do not use this space and opportunity to call out this government and education system for the harm it is causing our children; if we continue to remain silent as our children’s lives and futures are destroyed, then shame on us. Shame on us all.

Travesty on our watch

A failed government will attempt to peg authority and normalcy through routine functions. So, blatantly it prints tonnes of money to pay State salaries, it forms new Cabinets with already discredited political gamblers, it conducts public exams even as the education system lies paralysed. Political survival and self-interest determine all these decisions.

As adults, well aware of these games, we can watch passively as we have in the past, or we can step in and stop a failed government destroying the lives of our children. There are many who can unite under this goal – officials in the MOE, NIE, Exams Department; principals, teachers, teacher unionists; child rights activists, child psychologists, religious leaders; parents … all of us who are privy to the silent suffering and sadness of the children of this country.

We can begin by ensuring that no child of the 2021 OL batch is failed at this recently concluded exam. This will be a symbolic but important challenge to the system. Not ensuring protection for the children of Sri Lankan would be a shameful moral failure on the part of the collective adults of this country.

Our govt. has failed us. It is destroying the lives of our children. What do we choose to do about this?

(Watch the talk on YOUTUBE – Sri Lanka Government FAILS OL Test).



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Opinion

The policy of Sinhala Only and downgrading of English

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In 1956 a Sri Lankan politician riding a great surge of populism, made a move that, at a stroke, disabled a functioning civil society operating in the English language medium in Sri Lanka. He had thrown the baby out with the bathwater.

It was done to huge, ecstatic public joy and applause at the time but in truth, this action had serious ramifications for the country, the effects have, no doubt, been endlessly mulled over ever since.

However, there is one effect/ aspect that cannot be easily dismissed – the use of legal English of an exact technical quality used for dispensing Jurisprudence (certainty and rational thought). These court certified decisions engendered confidence in law, investment and business not only here but most importantly, among the international business community.

Well qualified, rational men, Judges, thought rationally and impartially through all the aspects of a case in Law brought before them. They were expert in the use of this specialised English, with all its meanings and technicalities – but now, a type of concise English hardly understandable to the casual layman who may casually look through some court proceedings of yesteryear.

They made clear and precise rulings on matters of Sri Lankan Law. These were guiding principles for administrative practice. This body of case law knowledge has been built up over the years before Independence. This was in fact, something extremely valuable for business and everyday life. It brought confidence and trust – essential for conducting business.

English had been developed into a precise tool for analysing and understanding a problem, a matter, or a transaction. Words can have specific meanings, they were not, merely, the play- thing of those producing “fake news”. English words as used at that time, had meaning – they carried weight and meaning – the weight of the law!

Now many progressive countries around the world are embracing English for good economic and cultural reasons, but in complete contrast little Sri Lanka has gone into reverse!

A minority of the Sinhalese population, (the educated ones!) could immediately see at the time the problems that could arise by this move to down-grade English including its high-quality legal determinations. Unfortunately, seemingly, with the downgrading of English came a downgrading of the quality of inter- personal transactions.

A second failure was the failure to improve the “have nots” of the villagers by education. Knowledge and information can be considered a universal right. Leonard Woolf’s book “A village in the Jungle” makes use of this difference in education to prove a point. It makes infinitely good politics to reduce this education gap by education policies that rectify this important disadvantage normal people of Sri Lanka have.

But the yearning of educators to upgrade the education system as a whole, still remains a distant goal. Advanced English spoken language is encouraged individually but not at a state level. It has become an orphaned child. It is the elites that can read the standard classics such as Treasure Island or Sherlock Holmes and enjoy them.

But, perhaps now, with the country in the doldrums, more people will come to reflect on these failures of foresight and policy implementation. Isn’t the doldrums all the proof you need?

by Priyantha Hettige

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Opinion

GOODBYE, DEAR SIR

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It is with deep gratitude and profound sorrow that we remember Mr. K. L. F. Wijedasa, remarkable athletics coach whose influence reached far beyond the track. He passed away on November 4, exactly six months after his 93rd birthday, having led an exemplary and disciplined life that enabled him to enjoy such a long and meaningful innings. To those he trained, he was not only a masterful coach but a mentor, a friend, a steady father figure, and an enduring source of inspiration. His wisdom, kindness, and unwavering belief in every young athlete shaped countless lives, leaving a legacy that will continue to echo in the hearts of all who were fortunate enough to be guided by him.

I was privileged to be one of the many athletes who trained under his watchful eye from the time Mr. Wijedasa began his close association with Royal College in 1974. He was largely responsible for the golden era of athletics at Royal College from 1973 to 1980. In all but one of those years, Royal swept the board at all the leading Track & Field Championships — from the Senior and Junior Tarbat Shields to the Daily News Trophy Relay Carnival. Not only did the school dominate competitions, but it also produced star-class athletes such as sprinter Royce Koelmeyer; sprint and long & triple jump champions Godfrey Fernando and Ravi Waidyalankara; high jumper and pole vaulter Cletus Dep; Olympic 400m runner Chrisantha Ferdinando; sprinters Roshan Fernando and the Indraratne twins, Asela and Athula; and record-breaking high jumper Dr. Dharshana Wijegunasinghe, to name just a few.

Royal had won the Senior & Junior Tarbats as well as the Relay Carnival in 1973 by a whisker and was looking for a top-class coach to mould an exceptionally talented group of athletes for 1974 and beyond. This was when Mr. Wijedasa entered the scene, beginning a lifelong relationship with the athletes of Royal College from 1974 to 1987. He received excellent support from the then Principal, late Mr. L. D. H. Pieris; Vice Principal, late Mr. E. C. Gunesekera; and Masters-in-Charge Mr. Dharmasena, Mr. M. D. R. Senanayake, and Mr. V. A. B. Samarakone, with whom he maintained a strong and respectful rapport throughout his tenure.

An old boy of several schools — beginning at Kandegoda Sinhala Mixed School in his hometown, moving on to Dharmasoka Vidyalaya, Ambalangoda, Moratu Vidyalaya, and finally Ananda College — he excelled in both sports and studies. He later graduated in Geography, from the University of Peradeniya. During his undergraduate days, he distinguished himself as a sprinter, establishing a new National Record in the 100 metres in 1955. Beyond academics and sports, Mr. Wijedasa also demonstrated remarkable talent in drama.

Though proudly an Anandian, he became equally a Royalist through his deep association with Royal’s athletics from the 1970s. So strong was this bond that he eventually admitted his only son, Duminda, to Royal College. The hallmark of Mr. Wijedasa was his tireless dedication and immense patience as a mentor. Endurance and power training were among his strengths —disciplines that stood many of us in good stead long after we left school.

More than champions on the track, it is the individuals we became in later life that bear true testimony to his loving guidance. Such was his simplicity and warmth that we could visit him and his beloved wife, Ransiri, without appointment. Even long after our school days, we remained in close touch. Those living overseas never failed to visit him whenever they returned to Sri Lanka. These visits were filled with fond reminiscences of our sporting days, discussions on world affairs, and joyful moments of singing old Sinhala songs that he treasured.

It was only fitting, therefore, that on his last birthday on May 4 this year, the Old Royalists’ Athletic Club (ORAC) honoured him with a biography highlighting his immense contribution to athletics at Royal. I was deeply privileged to co-author this book together with Asoka Rodrigo, another old boy of the school.

Royal, however, was not the first school he coached. After joining the tutorial staff of his alma mater following graduation, he naturally coached Ananda College before moving on to Holy Family Convent, Bambalapitiya — where he first met the “love of his life,” Ransiri, a gifted and versatile sportswoman. She was not only a national champion in athletics but also a top netballer and basketball player in the 1960s. After his long and illustrious stint at Royal College, he went on to coach at schools such as Visakha Vidyalaya and Belvoir International.

The school arena was not his only forte. Mr. Wijedasa also produced several top national athletes, including D. K. Podimahattaya, Vijitha Wijesekera, Lionel Karunasena, Ransiri Serasinghe, Kosala Sahabandu, Gregory de Silva, Sunil Gunawardena, Prasad Perera, K. G. Badra, Surangani de Silva, Nandika de Silva, Chrisantha Ferdinando, Tamara Padmini, and Anula Costa. Apart from coaching, he was an efficient administrator as Director of Physical Education at the University of Colombo and held several senior positions in national sporting bodies. He served as President of the Amateur Athletic Association of Sri Lanka in 1994 and was also a founder and later President of the Ceylonese Track & Field Club. He served with distinction as a national selector, starter, judge, and highly qualified timekeeper.

The crowning joy of his life was seeing his legacy continue through his children and grandchildren. His son, Duminda, was a prominent athlete at Royal and later a National Squash player in the 1990s. In his later years, Mr. Wijedasa took great pride in seeing his granddaughter, Tejani, become a reputed throwing champion at Bishop’s College, where she currently serves as Games Captain. Her younger brother, too, is a promising athlete.

He is survived by his beloved wife, Ransiri, with whom he shared 57 years of a happy and devoted marriage, and by their two children, Duminda and Puranya. Duminda, married to Debbie, resides in Brisbane, Australia, with their two daughters, Deandra and Tennille. Puranya, married to Ruvindu, is blessed with three children — Madhuke, Tejani, and Dharishta.

Though he has left this world, the values he instilled, the lives he shaped, and the spirit he ignited on countless tracks and fields will live on forever — etched in the hearts of generations who were privileged to call him Sir (Coach).

NIRAJ DE MEL, Athletics Captain of Royal College 1976

Deputy Chairman, Old Royalists’ Athletics Club (ORAC)

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Opinion

Why Sri Lanka needs a National Budget Performance and Evaluation Office

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President Dissanayake presenting Budget 2026 in Parliament

Sri Lanka is now grappling with the aftermath of the one of the gravest natural disasters in recent memory, as Cyclone Ditwah and the associated weather system continue to bring relentless rain, flash floods, and landslides across the country.

In view of the severe disaster situation, Speaker Jagath Wickramaratne had to amend the schedule for the Committee Stage debates on Budget 2026, which was subsequently passed by Parliament. There have been various interpretations of Budget 2026 by economists, the business community, academics, and civil society. Some analyses draw on economic expertise, others reflect social understanding, while certain groups read the budget through political ideology. But with the country now trying to manage a humanitarian and economic emergency, it is clear that fragmented interpretations will not suffice. This is a moment when Sri Lanka needs a unified, responsible, and collective “national reading” of the budget—one that rises above personal or political positions and focuses on safeguarding citizens, restoring stability, and guiding the nation toward recovery.

Budget 2026 is unique for several reasons. To understand it properly, we must “read” it through the lens of Sri Lanka’s current economic realities as well as the fiscal consolidation pathway outlined under the International Monetary Fund programme. Some argue that this Budget reflects a liberal policy orientation, citing several key allocations that support this view: strong investment in human capital, an infrastructure-led growth strategy, targeted support for private enterprise and MSMEs, and an emphasis on fiscal discipline and transparency.

Anyway, it can be argued that it is still too early to categorise the 2026 budget as a fully liberal budget approach, especially when considering the structural realities that continue to shape Sri Lanka’s economy. Still some sectors in Sri Lanka restricted private-sector space, with state dominance. And also, we can witness a weak performance-based management system with no strong KPI-linked monitoring or institutional performance cells. Moreover, the country still maintains a broad subsidy orientation, where extensive welfare transfers may constrain productivity unless they shift toward targeted and time-bound mechanisms. Even though we can see improved tax administration in the recent past, there is a need to have proper tax rationalisation, requiring significant simplification to become broad-based and globally competitive. These factors collectively indicate that, despite certain reform signals, it may be premature to label Budget 2026 as fully liberal in nature.

Overall, Sri Lanka needs to have proper monitoring mechanisms for the budget. Even if it is a liberal type, development, or any type of budget, we need to see how we can have a budget monitoring system.

Establishing a National Budget Performance and Evaluation Office

Whatever the budgets presented during the last seven decades, the implementation of budget proposals can always be mostly considered as around 30-50 %. Sri Lanka needs to have proper budget monitoring mechanisms. This is not only important for the budget but also for all other activities in Sri Lanka. Most of the countries in the world have this, and we can learn many best practices from them.

Establishing a National Budget Performance and Evaluation Office is essential for strengthening Sri Lanka’s fiscal governance and ensuring that public spending delivers measurable value. Such an office would provide an independent, data-driven mechanism to track budget implementation, monitor programme outcomes, and evaluate whether ministries achieve their intended results. Drawing from global best practices—including India’s PFMS-enabled monitoring and OECD programme-based budgeting frameworks—the office would develop clear KPIs, performance scorecards, and annual evaluation reports linked to national priorities. By integrating financial data, output metrics, and policy outcomes, this institution would enable evidence-based decision-making, improve budget credibility, reduce wastage, and foster greater transparency and accountability across the public sector. Ultimately, this would help shift Sri Lanka’s budgeting process from input-focused allocations toward performance-oriented results.

There is an urgent need for a paradigm shift in Sri Lanka’s economy, where export diversification, strengthened governance, and institutional efficiency become essential pillars of reform. Establishing a National Budget Performance and Evaluation Office is a critical step that can help the country address many long-standing challenges related to governance, fiscal discipline, and evidence-based decision-making. Such an institution would create the mechanisms required for transparency, accountability, and performance-focused budgeting. Ultimately, for Sri Lanka to gain greater global recognition and move toward a more stable, credible economic future, every stakeholder must be equipped with the right knowledge, tools, and systems that support disciplined financial management and a respected national identity.

(The writer is a Professor in Management Studies, Open University of Sri Lanka and you can reach Professor Abeysekera at nabey@ou.ac.lk)

by Prof. Nalin Abeysekera ✍️

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