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A Tale of three aeroplanes

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The present-day sky is crowded. Airways crisscross above continents and oceans and are severely congested with all kinds of aeroplanes carrying passengers and cargo. Then someone crashes, people die, and we say, “What a shame!” The manufacturers start defending their aeroplane, the insurance companies look for loopholes to creep through and save their bacon. Of course, there is always the ever-present ‘pilot error’ verdict to take the final blame. That is what happens in air crashes and crash causes. The dying or the surviving is seldom man-made. It is all done upstairs and has little to do with what we deduce from what we know or hear. I have seen enough of the sky and what happens in it to figure that out.

On 7 August 1997, a Fine Air DC-8-61F took off from Miami International on a direct flight to Santo Domingo. It was a cargo flight, two pilots and a Flight Engineer plus a security officer were the only occupants. The DC-8 rolled off on Runway 27 Right and eased into the azure blue Florida sky.

That’s when the trouble started. The first officer was flying, and he could not control the pitch attitude of the aeroplane, and the nose kept creeping up. The speed started bleeding off and the big cargo jet stalled and crashed 3000 ft beyond the end of the runway. It instantly killed the four people on board and also a luckless motorist who was passing on the road beyond the airfield.

The investigation proved the DC-8 was loaded incorrectly by the cargo people and the trim settings shown were wrong.

The load sheet is given to the Captain a few minutes before the doors are closed. It shows how the aeroplane is loaded and how the centre of gravity is calculated by the load master who decides how the payload should be distributed. If he makes a mistake, and the Captain fails to notice it, no one would know that till the aeroplane rotates and the pitch attitude misbehaves. At times it could become almost impossible to fly the aeroplane.

That’s one down and two to go of the three stories.

The Ethiopian 707 cargo aeroplane was loaded and ready for takeoff in Fiumicino Airport in Rome on 19th November 1977. It was a two-sector flight, first to Asmara and then to Addis Ababa, carrying a consignment of tyres. There were five onboard, the two pilots and the Flight Engineer and two security officers.

The aeroplane was almost fully loaded with heavy cargo plus 11,000 gallons of fuel. The Captain checked the load sheet and calculated the take-off power needed and set the stabilizer trim according to the units that were displayed in the load sheet.

The 707 rolled out of Fiumicino and took off. It is not clear what happened; the theories are multiple. The 707 could not be controlled in the pitching and nosedived to a scrub bush jungle on the extended centerline of the runway.

All five people in the aircraft died. The 11,000 gallons of fuel burned the fuselage to cinders. Maybe the calculated trim was wrong or maybe the loading of the cargo was not according to centre of gravity limits. Some even said the cargo pallets may have shifted. Either way, the five people who died lost their lives in vain, perhaps due to a loading mistake.

And now I come to the third aeroplane, the one that got away.

No, this I did not take from any record book; nor is it a trumped-up story from a third or fourth party. This is straight from the horse’s mouth. It was the surviving pilot who laid bare all the facts of this incredible story. Captain Jaya Seneviratne is no more, he passed away some years ago. First Officer Nihal Jayawickrema flew almost every jet aeroplane that served Sri Lanka and retired after being the Director of Flight Operations in the national carrier. I write this in honour of these two pilots. Let the truth be on record, stated as it happened so that such professional pinnacles are remembered and told and re-told for future generations.

The year was 1971. The JVP had taken up arms to fight the ruling coalition of the Sirimavo Bandaranaike government. At the start the armed forces were ill-prepared to contain the onslaught of the youth uprising. The pendulum swung both ways and hundreds from the two sides died in vain. I better stop that sad story now before I forget my purpose and blast away at things that are best left unsaid.

Ammunition and soldiers had to be moved to fight the JVP. Road transport was difficult due to guerilla-type ambushers. The safest was by air, load an old DC-3 and fly wherever you wanted. Such was the plan when Capt. Seneviratne and F/O Jayawickrema got onboard to fly from Ratmalana to Vavuniya. They had to carry some soldiers and a lot of ammunition boxes that weighed like concrete blocks. Of course, there were no cabin crew, and strangely more passengers than seats, more like military musical chairs. The plane had to fly to Vavuniya, unload soldiers and ammo and return empty to Ratmalana. Of course, whoever ordered the flight had thrown away the rule book. There was no LOAD SHEET. This was an emergency; nobody knew how much the payload weighed and where the trim sheet centre of gravity was. The Captain was a grizzly old school veteran, and the F/O was a bright young spark, and between them they were more than capable of flying to Vavuniya and back. Passengers seated and standing, limitlessly over-loading, and with enough ammunition to make it a flying bomb if any emergency occurred, somebody sure had vapourised the rule book. Had to be somebody big!

They started engines and taxied to line up on runway 04 (heading north/east) and opened full power for the take-off. It was slow to gather speed and almost ran to the other end before the Captain gently eased the control column back and got the lumbering DC-3 to get airborne. The instant Capt. Seneviratne lifted the plane he would have known something was very wrong. The old Dakota was climbing foot by foot while the F/O retracted the gear and the flaps. The aeroplane was still not climbing, the two pilots knew they were flying a heavily over-weight aeroplane which had been loaded with total disregard for its centre of gravity.

From here onwards I am writing exactly what First Officer Jayawickrema told me. This is no fairy tale, but some clever piece of flying which was completely out of the box.

The old Dakota crawled to 1500 feet and stopped climbing. Too heavy and completely out of trim. The Captain turned left and stayed on top of the northern Bolgoda Lake and followed the waterway to Dehiwela. There they turned left and followed the snaking canal to the sea, safe from tall buildings at 1500 ft. Once they crossed the rail-track and the beach, they turned North and flew over the water parallel to the coast. Now they were safe at this low altitude and the Captain sent the First Officer to check the situation in the cabin. There were 24 seats and 38 passengers and so many ammunition boxes that were loaded on the floor at the back. The seatless passengers had conveniently sat on the iron boxes and made themselves comfortable. No wonder the Dakota was over-weight and completely out of trim. It was a minor miracle the Dakota made it to 1500 ft. The pilots decided to fly low level over the sea and head North and somewhere near Kalpitiya to turn right and make a direct track to Vavuniya.

The Captain called the leader of the soldiers and explained and requested the passengers who had no seats to bring the ammo boxes forward along the aisle and the soldiers to sit on them. This was clever thinking. Boxes and men shifted up the aisle, the aircraft was better balanced after the seatless passengers re-located. However, the crew stuck to their original plan to coast-crawl and managed to climb a little too. They flew past Negombo, Chilaw, spotted Deduru-Oya and Puttalam and reached Kalpitiya. There they turned right to track to Vauniya, flying over Wilpattu and Thanthirimalai. The fading sun was still giving enough light and they came to Vavuniya and spotted a clearing amidst the scrub bush. The runway was just a flat strip, a relic from the old second world war days where the RAF had a squadron of Hurricanes based in Vavuniya. That was all gone now and there was only a little hut and a watcher who was there to guard (I do not know from what) but perhaps to chase the cattle that strayed on to the airfield.

The DC-3 usually approached to land at 65-70 knots. But the crew knew she weighed so much more than her maximum landing weight with ammo boxes and 38 passengers. The pilots had to come much faster to land and to avoid stalling the plane. The Dakota did not have stall warning devices. Capt. Seneviratne compromised and made his approach to runway 05 at 100 knots. It would have been an extremely difficult task, an over-weight DC-3 approaching at 100 knots, on a short field of around 1500 meters. There were no guide lights or runway markings to gauge the descent path. The flare alone would have been so difficult to judge; the deck sure was stacked against the pilots, nerve-racking to say the least.

They touched down and went straight for the brakes, but the speed was too high and the runway too short. The Dakota over ran the threshold on the far end and went into a ditch that was full of mud. The nose was down, and the tail was up but no one was hurt.

Considering all factors including the part they over ran the short, unmarked runway, I think it was a brilliant piece of flying. From take-off to touch down it was all seat of the pants out of the box handling and decision-making. My humble opinion says if one was to study everything that happened and how they survived – this sure was a class act.

The soldiers disembarked carrying their ammunition and the crew followed. They inspected the Dakota and saw nothing had happened to the rugged aeroplane except some torn canvases in the tailplane. Ropes were brought and the 38 soldiers pushed and pulled the Dakota and got it out of the ditch. Her wheels were caked with mud and the wheel bays too were pretty badly soiled. Once the soldiers got the aeroplane to hard ground they turned it to face runway 23. The pilots got in and they had to do a battery start. This was tricky, but the crew knew their business. The starter rotated the prop, fuel flowed, ignitors fired, and the engine coughed and smoked as the 14 cylinders came to life. That sure is the sweetest sound from a Pratt and Whitney engine. Both engines started singing and it was all set to go; the Dakota took off on runway 23 and flew to Ratmalana.

They radioed Engineering in Ratmalana and told the Vavuniya story. The men who manned Ratmalana were a special breed.They were ‘Hammer and Spanner’ trouble-fixers who were Grand Masters of the DC-3. By the time the Dakota landed the engineers were ready with high pressure hoses to peel the mud off and also had an expert to stitch the torn tail plane canvas. Some names I remember. It is my privilege to mention them. G.V. Perera, Noel Peiris, Sath Silva, JCT, Quintus Gunasekara, Piya. I remember, the rest were equally good, but I am sad I cannot re-collect all the names.

The engineers took over the aeroplane and the pilots went home.

The following morning my friend Jayawickrema rode his bicycle and came to the airport. The DC-3 was taxiing out for take-off, on the morning flight to Jaffna.

“She looked the beauty she always was” he nostalgically murmured. “Even spruced up by her high-pressure water bath. I couldn’t believe this was the same aeroplane that made an approach at 100 knots to land at a short strip in Vavuniya and ended up in a ditch, full of mud.”

Some pilots crash and die, and some survive. The script is decided by fate that flings the dice. You win some, you lose some and if you are lucky, you live to tell the tale.

Some call it consecration; some call it God.

It is as simple as that.



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Forest cover loss threatens rare freshwater fish in Sinharaja streams

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Washbasin

When discussions turn to Sri Lanka’s freshwater fish diversity and the urgent need to conserve it, attention is often focused on rivers, streams, reservoirs and water quality.

Yet scientists are increasingly finding that what happens on the land surrounding these waterways can be just as important as what happens in the water itself.

A recent study led by researcher Janamina Bandara of the Wildlife Conservation Society, Galle, together with researchers Sudath Nanayakkara and Sahan Randeniya, highlights how changes in forest cover caused by human activities can significantly influence freshwater fish populations in the hill streams surrounding the Sinharaja rainforest.

Their research sheds light on a relatively understudied aspect of tropical freshwater ecosystems—how alterations to vegetation cover, particularly through commercial cultivation such as tea and cardamom plantations, affect fish communities inhabiting headwater streams.

Hidden Riches of Tropical Streams

Forest plant saplings

Sri Lanka’s freshwater ecosystems are globally recognised for their remarkable biodiversity and high levels of endemism. However, despite their ecological significance, many ecological processes operating within these habitats remain poorly understood.

“Freshwater ecosystems in the tropics harbour extraordinary biodiversity, but many of the ecological relationships within these systems are still not fully documented,” researcher Janamina Bandara told The Island.

The study focused on sub-montane streams in the Sinharaja landscape, examining how varying levels of forest cover influence freshwater fish assemblages.

Researchers investigated whether fish communities differed between streams flowing through relatively undisturbed forests and those surrounded by modified vegetation resulting from agricultural activities.

Spotlight on a Critically Endangered Species

Leaf litter bay / Restoration activities

Particular attention was given to the critically endangered Rakwana loach (Schistura madhavai), a highly restricted endemic fish species first described from the Suriyakanda-Rakwana region.

Commonly referred to as a hill-stream loach, the species inhabits clear, fast-flowing streams and is considered highly sensitive to environmental disturbances.

According to Bandara, while broad community-level analyses did not reveal dramatic differences across all fish populations, species-specific responses painted a very different picture.

“Our findings show that Schistura madhavai exhibits a clear preference for streams flowing through intact forest habitats,” he explained. “The species becomes less common in areas where surrounding vegetation has been altered by human activities.”

Why Forests Matter to Fish

Forests bordering streams play multiple ecological roles. They regulate water temperature by providing shade, contribute organic matter that supports aquatic food webs, stabilise stream banks and help maintain water quality.

When these forests are removed or replaced with plantation crops, the resulting environmental changes can cascade through freshwater ecosystems.

Bandara noted that altered forest cover can influence water chemistry, microclimatic conditions, stream-bed composition and the availability of food resources.

“As riparian vegetation changes, a series of environmental conditions within the stream also change. Sensitive species such as Schistura madhavai appear particularly vulnerable to these shifts and may gradually disappear from modified habitats,” he said.

The research suggests that even subtle changes in habitat structure can have disproportionate impacts on species with narrow ecological requirements.

The Importance of Looking Beyond Numbers

Schistura madhavai

One of the most intriguing findings of the study is that ecosystem degradation may not always be apparent when scientists assess entire fish communities collectively.

In some instances, environmental variables appeared to have little effect on overall fish abundance or diversity. However, when individual species were examined separately, clear patterns emerged.

For example, variations in the amount of detritus—organic matter that accumulates on stream beds and serves as a vital food resource—did not significantly affect the overall fish assemblage. Yet for certain species, including habitat specialists, such changes proved critically important.

“This highlights a key conservation challenge,” Bandara said. “If we only look at total fish numbers or community-wide patterns, we may overlook serious declines occurring among environmentally sensitive species.”

Indicator Species as Ecological Sentinels

The findings underscore the importance of using so-called “indicator species” in environmental monitoring programmes.

Indicator species are organisms whose presence, absence or abundance reflects the health of an ecosystem. Because they respond rapidly to environmental change, they can provide early warnings of ecological degradation.

The Rakwana loach appears to fit this role exceptionally well.

“Species with narrow habitat requirements often act as ecological sentinels,” Bandara observed. “Monitoring them can provide a much clearer picture of ecosystem health than relying solely on broad biodiversity assessments.”

For conservation practitioners, this means that protecting sensitive endemic species may also help safeguard entire freshwater ecosystems.

Restoring Streamside Forests

Perhaps the study’s most important conservation message concerns the restoration of degraded riparian forests—the vegetation growing alongside streams and rivers.

Researchers argue that restoring these streamside habitats should be a priority in freshwater biodiversity conservation efforts.

Healthy riparian vegetation provides shade, reduces erosion, filters pollutants, enhances habitat complexity and supports the intricate ecological interactions upon which aquatic life depends.

“The restoration of degraded riparian forests is likely to be one of the most effective conservation measures for protecting freshwater biodiversity,” Bandara emphasised.

Such efforts could prove particularly valuable in landscapes where agricultural expansion has fragmented natural habitats.

Awareness sessions

A Broader Lesson for Conservation

The study offers a timely reminder that freshwater conservation cannot be achieved by focusing exclusively on water bodies themselves. The surrounding landscape matters immensely.

From the mist-laden streams flowing down the Sinharaja foothills to the countless rivulets nourishing Sri Lanka’s river systems, the fate of freshwater biodiversity is intimately linked to the health of adjacent forests.

As conservationists grapple with accelerating habitat loss and climate-related pressures, the research demonstrates that protecting and restoring forest cover may be just as important as safeguarding the streams themselves.

In the case of the elusive Rakwana loach, the message is clear: save the forest, and you may save the fish.

For Sri Lanka’s unique freshwater biodiversity, that lesson could not be more important.

By Ifham Nizam

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Turning Promises into Justice

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File photo of lawyers protesting against the Prevention of Terrorism Act in Colombo

Sri Lankans have reason to take satisfaction in their country’s latest international achievement. Sri Lanka has climbed 14 places in the 2026 Global Peace Index to rank 67 in the world out of 163 countries that were assessed. At a time when global peacefulness is reported to be at its lowest level since the inception of the Index, and when more countries are experiencing deterioration than improvement, Sri Lanka’s progress stands out. The ranking reflects the country’s recovery from nearly three decades of war, its efforts to strengthen political stability and public security, and its resilience in overcoming the economic and political crises of recent years. The Global Peace Index assesses the strength of institutions, societal safety and security, and the capacity of societies to manage conflict peacefully.

The challenge is to consolidate the gains that have been made and address those unresolved issues that continue to cast a shadow over the country’s future. It is in this context that two recent announcements by the government assume particular significance. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath has announced that the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), one of the most controversial laws in the country, will be repealed and replaced within two months. A report prepared by a committee appointed to make recommendations has already been handed over to him. According to the minister, the new legislation, to be known as the State Prevention of Terrorism Act, incorporates recommendations from civil society and is intended to comply with international standards on counter terrorism.

At the same time, Justice and National Integration Minister Harshana Nanayakkara has reaffirmed the government’s commitment to uncovering the truth about missing persons. During a visit to the Chemmani mass grave excavation site in Jaffna, he stated that the excavations should be completed expeditiously so that justice can be done and assured that the necessary resources have been allocated for the task. The excavations are taking place under judicial supervision with the participation of forensic experts, archaeologists, lawyers and representatives of the Office on Missing Persons. These commitments made by the government address two of the most contentious issues that have troubled Sri Lanka for decades. They also suggest that the government believes the country is now in a position to deal with difficult questions from its past rather than postpone them indefinitely.

After Breakthroughs

The timing of the pledge to repeal the PTA is particularly noteworthy. For many years successive governments promised to replace the law but failed to do so. Sri Lanka undertook to repeal it in 2017 as part of its commitments linked to retaining GSP Plus trade concessions by the European Union. Yet despite repeated assurances the law remained in force. The question therefore arises as to why the government now appears determined to act. One possible explanation is that the Easter Sunday investigations have reached a decisive stage. The investigation into the bombings that killed more than 260 people in 2019 appears to have made significant breakthroughs. If these investigations continue along their present course, it is possible that accountability will extend beyond those who directly carried out the attacks to those who may have facilitated, enabled or been part of a wider criminal conspiracy.

There is broad agreement within society that those who masterminded the dastardly Easter bombing must be held accountable and that the victims deserve the truth and justice. However, it is important that the process by which responsibility is determined is seen by the public to be fair, lawful and impartial. If those accused are convicted following a transparent judicial process that respects due process and the rule of law, the outcome is far more likely to gain acceptance across society. This is where the repeal of the PTA becomes important. A transition from a law associated with prolonged detention and exceptional powers to one that is more consistent with human rights standards would strengthen rather than weaken the legitimacy of the investigations. Accountability obtained through a process that is visibly fair will be more durable and less vulnerable to allegations of political motivation or selective justice.

The Chemmani excavations may also provide an example of how such credibility can be built. The process is taking place under judicial supervision and in full public view with the participation of independent experts. Whatever conclusions emerge, and follow up action is decided on, the process itself should command respect because it is transparent and accountable. The same principles can be applied to the Easter Sunday investigations. Public confidence is strengthened when investigations are conducted openly, when legal safeguards are respected and when the rights of both victims and accused persons are protected. The significance of these investigations may extend beyond the tragedy itself. There is likely to be an overlap between those who are eventually found responsible for the Easter Sunday conspiracy and elements of the state apparatus that exercised power during the final stages of the war.

Setting Precedent

For many years Sri Lanka has struggled to address allegations of wartime abuses. The issue has remained politically sensitive because it touches upon the conduct of those who were regarded by many as wartime heroes. Yet if the Easter Sunday investigations establish that senior officials can be investigated and held accountable when evidence warrants it, an important precedent will have been set. Once the deck is cleared through the Easter Sunday investigations and the judicial process that follows, it may become less difficult to address allegations relating to wartime abuses, including those connected to sites such as Chemmani where evidence is now being painstakingly uncovered. This would also strengthen Sri Lanka’s position internationally.

Since the end of the war in 2009, the country has remained under varying degrees of scrutiny by the United Nations Human Rights Council. In October 2025, the Council renewed the mandate of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights to continue collecting and preserving evidence relating to past violations. The next review of Sri Lanka is due in September this year. The government now has an opportunity to demonstrate that Sri Lanka is capable of addressing difficult issues through its own institutions and according to its own democratic values. The commitments to repeal the PTA and to pursue investigations into missing persons can be seen in that light. Those who were victimized query as to what happened to their loved ones and to the information they know full well they entrusted to the government authorities and to the commissions of inquiry that were appointed. These are opportunities to show that accountability and national ownership can go hand in hand.

Reconciliation requires the difficult task of remembering truthfully. Too often Sri Lanka has sought stability by postponing difficult questions. Yet unresolved grievances do not disappear. They persist across generations and continue to shape political attitudes and communal relationships. Sri Lanka’s rise in the Global Peace Index is an achievement worth celebrating. But the true measure of peace is not only the absence of conflict. It is the presence of justice, trust and confidence in public institutions. The government’s commitments on PTA repeal, the Easter Sunday investigations and the search for truth regarding the disappeared suggest an awareness that old approaches have run their course. The government has an opportunity to break with the patterns of the past. The test now lies in implementation.

by Jehan Perera

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The burden, and also strength, of the critical scholar in the Humanities

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The biggest part of the challenge of a critical scholar in the humanities is having to engage critically with the very realities that define her existence as a social being. She cannot even begin to comment on the focus of her study without creating shock waves that would hit her own self in some form. One could argue that the scholars in the field of the humanities are part of what is being studied in one way or another. Critical scholarship in those fields entails destabilising the ground beneath their own feet.

An essential part of scholarly inquiry is being able to objectify what is being studied and examine it closely but at a distance, that, too, in a manner that scholar’s personal biases do not affect the judgement. Any failure to comply with this requirement immediately brands the study as unscientific. To try to understand this using an example situation, I would assume that a scientist who experiments with sodium and chlorine as chemical elements have the privilege of entering the experiment without any personal and emotional ties to either of the elements, placing one element in contact with the other without having to raise questions about her own existence, and observing and recording the outcome of the experiment without having to simultaneously examine what sort of implications the outcome has had for her as a person. The findings of the experiment may certainly advance her/him in the domain of science, but it is unlikely that the outcome of the study would result in any transformation within her as a social being.

The same privilege is not available for the (critical) scholars in the humanities. What chemical elements are for the scientist, the different social, political, cultural, gender, ethnic, racial, and religious identities are for those in the humanities. What the controlled, and also largely predictable, laboratory environment is for the scientist, the uncontrolled, even erratic, society is for those in the humanities. What the scientific experiments where the composition and behaviour of the individual chemical elements are explored is for the scientist, a close examination of phenomena and topics that cut across the categories of the social, the political, the cultural, and the religious is for those in the humanities.

The relatively clear differentiation or separation that is there between the scientist’s personal space and the laboratory setting where she conducts her research is not there in the case of her counterpart in the humanities. The latter does not have a separate laboratory setting that she can step into from her personal space, as the social space, which is her site of research, has her personal space already embedded in it. The freedom that the scientist has to cut herself off from what shapes her existence as a social and political being, as she enters her laboratory, is not available for her counterpart in the humanities, for the simple reason that the social and the political, which define her life outside her research, is also at the core of what they engage with in their research. Even in a setting where the latter locks herself up in a room and cuts herself off from the rest of society, the social and the political continue to define both her perspective and the object of study. Even the most effective scientist (but may not be the ideal scientist) has the option of taking her life, defined by the social, the political, the cultural and the religious, for granted, as her success is measured purely on the basis of her scholarly output; however, even the most ineffective scholar in the humanities would have to acknowledge the nexus between her personal life and her scholarly life, explicitly or implicitly, and her engagement with the chosen object of study will entail some sort of an engagement with her existence.

To use an example from the field of language studies which my work is primarily in, New Varieties of English, like what is called Sri Lankan English, is a topic that I try to engage with in both my teaching and research. Approached from a critical point of view, Sri Lankan English as a New Variety of English is more a political category than a linguistic one. The claims that you make may be based on linguistic evidence, but the conceptualisation of a separate form of English as Sri Lankan English even on the basis of objective linguistic evidence is primarily a political claim. The creation of such a category invariably results in a reconfiguration of the linguistic terrain of the country. Every claim that is made in favour of Sri Lankan English as a category results in a certain destablilisation of Sinhala and English, which are my first language and second language respectively, and the tense relations between which two languages have shaped my identity in a fundamental way. It is not only the two languages that get shaken; the broader ethnic identities that are associated with the two languages also undergo transformation, and this transformation certainly has an impact on who/what I am.

Even when I find the case for Sri Lankan English to be convincing, I feel compelled to word the arguments carefully. This feeling of compulsion to word the arguments carefully is certainly in recognition of the need to make academically-sound arguments; however, in addition to that, it has also to do with my position outside the social class which has traditionally been seen as having proprietary rights over the language. In that setting, I am less of an academic with an objective mindset than of a strategist who is enmeshed in the ethnic and class relations that define the topic of Sri Lankan English. At the same time, in a context where one’s knowledge of English is a primary determiner of her success in society and what is predominantly valued is the so-called proper forms of English, I have had to ask myself if any claims, including the most convincing, academically-sound ones, in the direction of legitimising Sri Lankan English should not be with caution.

I have also had to reconcile between two seemingly contradictory positions involved in making a case for Sri Lankan English, especially in the context of an English Honours programme, that, too, at a leading university in the country. On the one hand, making a case for Sri Lankan English entails encouraging deviation from the established norm/s of the language; on the other hand, considering the nature of the programme, the need to require the students to make that case using a normative form of English that would be recognised internationally could not be overlooked. At one level, this seeming contradiction could easily be dismissed as hypocrisy, but a closer and more serious reading of the situation would see in it a certain “maneuvering” and “negotiating” that the scholars in the discipline of English Studies stationed in peripheral contexts like ours are constrained to undertake in their engagement with the topic at hand. Although the arguments that get made have the appearance of truth, a close analysis of those arguments would indicate a certain identity politics that is being played. This identity politics has a direct bearing on the identity of the scholar who engages with the topic.

Accordingly, to make a claim in the humanities from a critical point of view is also to question in some form what defines one’s own identity, and this may not be the most comfortable undertaking for many of us in the field. This explains, at least to a certain extent, why some scholarly engagements with history results in mere glorifications of the mainstream historical narratives; why some scholarly engagements with literature and language results in a mere celebration of the mainstream literary traditions and hegemonic languages; how some scholarly engagements with the idea of culture directly subscribe to the position that culture should always be preserved and celebrated. Such approaches leave the status-quo largely untouched, and therefore the amount of unsettling that the scholars have to deal with is minimal. How much value that they are in a position to add to the existing scholarship, of course, is a question.

Any act of critical scholarship in the field of the humanities entails the scholar having to challenge in some form what defines her personal existence. This may not be the most comfortable move to make, but that is the only way the scholar could try to make a contribution of value to the field. It is important that this dilemma that the critical scholars in the humanities have to go through is recognised for what it is.

(Nandaka Maduranga Kalugampitiya is attached to the Department of English, University of Peradeniya.)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

by Nandaka Maduranga
Kalugampitiya

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