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Adikaram, a man like no other

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Dr. E.W. Adikaram with young J.B. Disanayaka

38th death anniversary of Dr E. W. Adikaram falls today

By Professor J.B. Disanayaka

It happened about sixty years ago. I was just a lad of seventeen, studying in grade eleven at Ananda College. As I walked past the small playground in the centre of the primary school premises, I caught the sight of a small-made man in our national dress, walking towards the Principal’s office. A senior whispered, “That’s Dr. Adikaram”. I had a good look at him, the new President of the BTS [Buddhist Theosophical Society], which looked after Ananda as the country’s main Buddhist educational institution.

I saw him again about ten years later, at the office of the Indian High Commission, where I had gone to get a visa to go to India to attend a religious conference in Darjeeling, organised by the Quakers, a society known for their opposition to violence and war. Dr. Adikaram was also there to get his visa to attend the very same meeting. It was my rare privilege to have a word with him. We left to India by air, from Ratmalana, on the full-moon day of Wesak, 1959.

That was rather a coincidence, I thought, to go to India, the land of the Buddha’s birth, on the full-moon day of Wesak, which celebrates three events of His life — the Birth, the Enlightenment and the Passing Away. At Madras, we boarded the Howrah Express to Calcutta. There were four of us, all on our way to the Conference: Dr. Adikaram, Chris Pullenayagam, Chitra Wijesinha and me. I had the rare chance to sit next to Dr. Adikaram and chat with him for two long days!

Some of what he said took me by surprise. I just could not understand him when he said that he had seen my ‘astral body’ on three or four occasions when he was reading in his study at his house in Pagoda. Being a Theosophist, he was able to explain to me about ‘astral bodies’ but I simply could not take his word. It was so strange. So, I requested him to write all that on paper and he promised to do so on his return to Sri Lanka. And he did. It ran to about four or five foolscap pages!

As he sat in his study at Pagoda, he saw the glimpse of someone walking into his house. He came out of the room but there was none. This happened on a few more occasions and as days went by, he got a faint glimpse of the face of this strange man. He told all his friends, including Dr. Mahinda Palihawadana, the Principal of Ananda Sastralaya, whom he met in the morning at Pagoda, to keep track of this strange character. However, they saw no one that fits his frame. On his return from the Indian High Commission, he told his friends, “Well, I saw that man today!”

Quakers had chosen one of the most beautiful sites for their Conference, in a bungalow overlooking Mount Kanchenjunga, one of the world’s highest mountains in the Himalayan range, bordering India and Nepal. We spent about a week listening to lectures and discussing matters of ethical interest — on how to build a world without barriers. On my return to the Island, I contributed an article to the University journal and it was titled, ‘A World Without Barriers’.

Later, he took me to Adayar in Madras to listen to J. Krishnamurti at Vasanta Vihar. Krishnamurti was a man of stature, both physically and spiritually. I listened to him in earnest and found that his words made a lot of sense. ‘Conditioning’ is the word that made all the difference. We are all ‘conditioned’ by the world around us so much so that we fail to see reality. Our beliefs and dogmas, rites and rituals prevent us from seeing reality and all that prevents us from living in peace.

I had the chance to discuss some of these matters in detail with him intimately when I came to Pagoda to translate into Sinhala his PhD thesis, ‘Early History of Buddhism in Ceylon’. It was a wonderful model of research based on the study of Pali texts. He also made me study Pali so that I could do a better Sinhala translation. He assured to me that studying Pali was fun because he himself learnt it only after his first year at the University College, giving up science and mathematics.

I spent my vacations at Pagoda in the early sixties translating his book, but unfortunately, I could not finish the work because I had to leave on a Fulbright scholarship to California in 1963. I think he himself completed the translation but never forgot to acknowledge my contribution in his Sinhala Preface. Only a few knew it because in the Preface my name appears as ‘Jayaratna Banda Disanayaka’ of the Department of Sinhala of the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya!

Dr. Adikaram

Conditioning’, as Krishnamurti says, prevents our mind from seeing reality. So, we wanted to look at the nature of the mind itself, and we did a couple of experiments. I was at the Peradeniya campus and he was at Pagoda. We decided to set off a time on a particular day of the week to think about something, like rivers, mountains, animals and plants and so on. At the agreed upon time, I spent about five minutes, thinking about something in particular and jotted it down on a piece of paper. He did the same thing in his study at Pagoda. I posted my note to him and he sent his note to me. On many an occasion we have thought about the very same thing! Now, isn’t that strange!

Minds can communicate. Some call it telepathy. It still happens to me almost every day. I am writing this note on the fifteenth of March 2021. Let me tell you about a few strange coincidences that took place last month. On the ninth day of February I wanted to find out a little more about the Sinhala word san nam (brand name) and I thought of calling Achintya Bandara, a young lecturer in the Sinhala Department, because he said the other day that I am the san nam of Sinhala linguistics. In fifteen minutes, my mobile rings. It was Acintya Bandara.

On the 10th, Dr. Malini Endagama of the Mahavamsa Editorial Board wanted me to translate its fifth chapter into English. I was not interested and she wanted me to suggest another name. I thought of my friend, Austin Fernando, who was the Secretary to the President under a previous government, and who has written a book in English, titled ‘My Belly is White’. However, I was unable to contact him because I do not have his telephone number. A couple of hours later, Austin rang me to find out the meaning of a Sinhala word. What a bit of luck!

On the 13th of February, I wanted to write a short note on the Sinhala word kana kaesbaeva (blind sea-turtle). Then rings my mobile. “Sir, my name is Unantenne. What does kana kaesbeva viya siduren balanava mean? “Why on earth were we both thinking of the same blind mythical animal at the same time? What does all this mean? That the mind is strange. It was Dr. Adikaram who made me think about the unimaginable ways of the human mind.

His booklets in the Sitivili (Thoughts) series were all about the ways of the world and the ways of the mind. He always posed questions and wanted you to answer them along with him. Do you think or does thinking occur to you? Why do we get angry when others scold you? What do dreams tell you? Are there layers in the mind — deep and surface? Can the end justify the means?

I liked his style of writing in Sinhala — simple and straightforward. When I compiled a handbook on the correct usage in Sinhala, in 2018, I chose him as one of the seven modern writers who have a style of their own and who deserve to be imitated. He was also one of the first to write on Modern Science in Sinhala. He edited the first science magazine in Sinhala, titled Navina Vidya . He compiled a small English-Sinhala glossary for school children to help them learn science in Sinhala.

He was a man, a bachelor, who loved not women but nature — birds and flowers. At Pagoda I observed, every morning, how he kept food for the birds and watered his flower plants. Occasionally, he would call me and say, “Look how this flower smiles at me”. He allowed mice to hang around the garage as they pleased. Once he did not drive his car for a week because there were new-born little mice in the dicky!

Dr. Adikaram was a vegetarian not because it was a considered a sin (pav) to kill animals. “Even if someone were to tell me that it is a merit (pin) to kill animals, I shall not kill simply because it hurts animals”. He never visited the zoo because they had to kill many animals to keep other animals alive. Prof. Mahinda Palihawadana is still a vegetarian doing his best to make this a world where not only human beings but all beings can live in peace.

My interest was not in birds and plants but in language and culture. However, he was able to shift my attention to plants when he took me, along with Siri Palihawadana, who had an expensive camera, to the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens, to take pictures of certain trees for his textbooks on science. We sat under the shade of many trees and enjoyed our meals at leisure.

The 28th of December 1985 was a strange day. I was at the University of Edinburgh on a Commonwealth scholarship to study Applied Linguistics. On many a day, I would stop by the University Bookshop on Buccleuch Place to buy a book usually on Linguistics. However, when I browsed the books on the 28th, my attention was drawn to a book on Krishmanmurti and I was delighted to have got my hands on it.

I went back to my room and was reading Krishmnamurti, always thinking of Dr. Adikaram, who introduced me to him at Vasantha Vihar in Adayar. My telephone rang and it was Siri Palihawadana. “JB, I have some bad news to tell you. Doctor passed away a few hours ago.” Now isn’t that strange? To buy a book on Krishnamurti and read it, as Dr. Adikaram lay in his death bed?

Siri and his wife Lakshmi looked after Dr. Adikaram with utmost care and affection. I remember that he had a nursery of sandal-wood plants at the backyard and they were distributed to those who loved plants. As I write this note in the library of my daughter’s house, near the Sri Jayewardenepura campus, I see the young sandalwood tree in her garden, gifted to her by Ravi Palihawadana. It brings back memories of an unforgettable past, when Dr. Adikaram moulded my way of thought and my way of life.

Dr. Adikaram was like no other because different people saw him in different ways. He was an orientalist, with his knowledge of Pali and Sanskrit, a historian, who recorded the History of Early Buddhism in Ceylon educator who was the Principal of a leading Buddhist school, Ananda Sastralaya in Kotte, founder of the leading Buddhist girls’ school in Nugegoda, Anula Vidyalaya, science writer, and philosopher who did his best to mould the minds of the young to create a world without barriers.



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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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Comfort for some, death for others: The reality of climate change

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climate

The recent Cyclone Ditwah struck South and Southeast Asia in an unprecedented way, causing floods, landslides, deaths, displacement of thousands, and severe soil degradation. For many in Sri Lanka, the disaster is seen as a natural event that the government should have anticipated. Yet, the reality is that small countries like ours have little power to prevent disasters of this scale. Despite contributing minimally to global carbon emissions, we are forced to bear the consequences of ecological harm caused largely by wealthier nations. Excessive consumption and profit-driven production in capitalist economies fuel climate change, while the Global South suffers the resulting losses in lives, homes, and livelihoods. The dead, the disappeared, and the displaced from Cyclone Ditwah demand climate justice—a justice that addresses structural inequality, exploitation of nature for profit, and the failure of global powers to take responsibility.

The Role of Excessive Consumption

The environmental crisis is driven by excessive consumption, particularly in developed countries. Cars, electronics, clothing, and other consumer goods require immense energy to produce, much of it from fossil fuels such as coal, gas, and oil. The transportation of raw materials and finished products adds further emissions, while waste from overconsumption ends up in landfills, releasing methane, a potent greenhouse gas. This cycle of consumption, production, and waste underscores a systemic problem: climate change is not merely an environmental issue, but a symptom of an economic system built on profit, not sustainability.

Market-Based “Solutions” and Greenwashing

Neoliberal economies are not silent in the face of climate change—they perform “sustainability” while offering superficial solutions. Many corporations engage in green branding to appear environmentally responsible, even as their practices remain unchanged. Carbon trading, for example, allows companies to buy and sell the right to emit CO₂ under a capped system. While intended to reduce emissions, it often commodifies pollution rather than eliminating it, enabling wealthy actors to continue environmentally harmful practices. Since many developing countries do not strictly enforce carbon caps, wealthy corporations often relocate their factories to these regions. Meanwhile, the burden of “reductions” is shifted to marginalised communities, turning these areas into pollution havens that endure the worst effects of climate disasters despite contributing the least to the problem. Market-based solutions, therefore, frequently reinforce existing inequalities rather than addressing the structural causes of climate change.

International Agreements and Structural Limitations

The global community has reached multiple climate agreements, including the UNFCCC (1992), the Kyoto Protocol (1997), and the Paris Agreement (2015). Yet these agreements remain constrained by capitalist agendas and weak enforcement mechanisms. Most rely on voluntary national commitments, peer pressure, and reporting transparency rather than legally binding obligations. Countries can submit inadequate Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) and remain technically compliant, rendering the agreements more symbolic than transformative. While not entirely ineffective, international agreements often prioritise narrative performance over real structural change, allowing wealthy nations to avoid meaningful responsibility for emissions and ecological harm.

Climate Justice and Social Inequalities

Climate change is inseparable from social injustice. Marginalised communities—those affected by poverty, colonial histories, racial discrimination, or gender inequality—face the greatest risks from environmental disasters. These populations generally lack safe housing, and even when warned to evacuate, they have few resources or means to recover from disasters. General climate policies, which have been influcned by capitalist agendas, that focus solely on emissions reduction or “green” initiatives fail to address these deeper inequalities. True climate action must empower communities, redistribute wealth, and integrate social justice with environmental sustainability. Only by tackling the structural drivers of both inequality and ecological harm can we move toward genuine climate justice.

Conclusion

Cyclone Ditwah and other climate disasters are reminders that the effects of environmental degradation are unevenly distributed. The Global South pays a heavy price for the consumption patterns and industrial practices of the Global North. Market-based solutions, superficial sustainability initiatives, and weak international agreements are insufficient to address the systemic roots of climate change. Achieving climate justice requires a fundamental rethinking of economic priorities, social structures, and global responsibility—placing people and the planet above profit.

The author is a postdoctoral fellow at Harvard Divinity School.

by Anushka Kahandagamage ✍️

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Ditwah wake-up call demands a national volunteer community service for rebuilding Sri Lanka

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Volunteers helping disaster victims. (Image courtesy BBC)

The Tsunami of 2004 struck our coasts, but the recent Cyclone Ditwah has delivered an unprecedented blow, devastating and traumatising the entire country. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake rightly called it the “largest and most challenging natural disaster” in Sri Lanka’s history.

The toll is staggering: Over 600 people were confirmed dead, with hundreds still missing. More than 2 million citizens – nearly one in ten people—have been affected. 41,000 to 86,000 houses are damaged or completely destroyed. The damage is widespread, with 22 of the island’s 25 districts declared disaster-affected areas. A provisional economic damage estimate reaching up to USD 7 billion—a figure that instantly consumes about 7% of our national GDP. This was not merely a natural disaster; it was a crisis amplified by systemic failure, culminating in a catastrophe that now demands a radical, long-term policy response.

Unlike the Tsunami, the destruction to our vital inland infrastructure—roads, bridges, railway lines, and power networks—has been colossal, crippling the nation’s ability to recover. Over 25,000 members of the tri-forces have been mobilised, and the nation rightly hails their courageous and relentless efforts in rescue and relief. They should now be graduated from ‘Rana Viruvo’ to RUN VIRUVO considering the efforts they are still putting into the relief operations in this unprecedented calamity. But the scale of the rebuilding effort requires a permanently sustained unified national mechanism, perhaps learning from their rich experiences.

Why did devastation reach this cataclysmic level?

Unlike a sudden earthquake/Tsunami, a cyclone’s path is largely traceable. Yet, the “post-mortem” on Ditwah reveals a horrifying truth: the storm’s devastation was amplified by our own institutional failures.

The India Meteorological Department (IMD) which runs the Regional Specialised Meteorological Centre (RMSC) monitors the oceans in this region and issues alerts for cyclones. It serves all the regional countries — Bangladesh, Maldives, Myanmar, Oman, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Thailand. The RMSC first predicted the formation of a depression as early as November 13 and issued an alert over the possibility of a cyclone forming on November 20. From November 23 onwards, IMD/RMSC had been routinely sharing frequent weather updates with Sri Lanka.

Robust models from the India Meteorological Department and the RMSC provided ample warnings of the depression and subsequent cyclonic intensification. Some of these predictions by the RMC and even the BBC forecasted rainfall over 300- 400 mm which could go up to even half a meter per day. True to their forecasts, Matale tragically received unprecedented rainfall of around 520 mm, triggering fatal landslides. Ditwah’s impact was worsened by its unusually slow movement over the island which sustained heavy rainfall over several days.

The Governance Gap

The critical breakdown occurred between the scientific prediction and the state’s executive arm. Warnings, if not taken seriously or acted upon, become meaningless data points. The core issue is a fragmented disaster management system that lacks the “unified command structure” required for real-time data sharing and rapid deployment. As one analyst noted, the disaster delivered a hard lesson: we entered one of our worst natural disasters in decades without a functioning national strategy and with a severe deficit in “adaptive capacity.

Scientific forecasts were not translated into an appropriate, urgent disaster preparedness program by the Sri Lankan state apparatus. Public reports indicate that national preparedness was woefully short of what was needed. The warnings failed to translate into a coherent, proactive response into an appropriate disaster preparedness action program on the island. This failure points directly to long-standing institutional deficits.

The Strategic Imperative: Dedicated Workforce for a $7B Recovery

President Anura Kumara Dissanayake rightly emphasised that restoring public life requires a unified operational mechanism that goes beyond normal state administration. To tackle this immense task, the Government has established a ‘Rebuilding Sri Lanka Fund’ to finance the medium- and long-term recovery, including essential infrastructure and public health issues.

This newly established ‘Rebuilding Sri Lanka Fund’ addresses the financial cost, but it does not solve the fundamental manpower crisis which is a key bottleneck in retarding the progress of this formidable undertaking. Rebuilding 247 kilometers of impacted roads, restoring two-thirds of unusable railway lines, clearing hundreds of landslides, and repairing crucial irrigation systems demands a sustained, disciplined, and massive workforce that normal state administration simply cannot provide. Furthermore, with the changing climate, events of this nature and magnitude may be more frequent in the future.

As such, there is a moral call to a strategic imperative. The immediate, ad-hoc spontaneous public volunteerism is commendable, but the scale of the task ahead requires a permanent, non-partisan national investment in human resources. The time for piecemeal recovery programs is over. Ditwah has forced the issue of structural accountability and national capacity onto the policy agenda.

A Call for Mandatory National Service

One of the most responsible paths forward is to utilise this crisis to institutionalise a robust National Service System, transforming a generation of youth into a standing army for climate resilience and nation-building. To fail to do so would be to guarantee that the next storm will bring an even higher price.

Sri Lanka cannot afford to be unprepared again. The solution is to immediately mobilise and, for the long term, institutionalise the patriotic energy of our youth into a robust, structured National Service System. This service should be more than just disaster relief; it is a long-term investment that will:

i) Build the Nation: Provide a rapid-response labour force for future disasters, infrastructure projects, and conservation efforts.

ii) Forge Character: Instill essential skills like discipline, leadership, accountability, and responsibility in our youth, thereby contributing to lower rates of substance abuse and crime.

iii) Strengthen Unity: Promote social cohesion and reinforce national identity by having youth from all backgrounds work together for a common cause.

The legal framework for such a move already exists. The Mobilisation and Supplementary Forces Act, No. 40 of 1985, already gives the government the powers to issue a National Service Order to enlist people in a National Armed Reserve. This mechanism can be adapted to establish a non-military, civilian-focused service.

Sri Lanka already has a government supported National Volunteer Service affiliated to her Social Services Department. It coordinates volunteers, develops management systems, and works with partners like the UN volunteers. This service can be improved and upgraded to tackle challenges in natural and/or human induced disasters which are going to be more frequent with greater intensity, at times.

In the immediate term, the large number of existing volunteers dispersed all over the island need to be engaged as understudy groups, working directly alongside the armed forces and government departments in the recovery process which is already happening in a number of instances.

Ditwah is our wake-up call for longer-term strategic planning and policy reforms. Alongside reacting to catastrophes in a piecemeal manner in the short-term, we must systematically start building a resilient nation with a vision for the future. Investing in a structured, mandatory Civilian National Service is the only way to safeguard our future against the inevitable challenges of climate change and to truly rebuild Sri Lanka.

Globally over 60 countries have national service portfolios mostly of military nature. Both Germany and France have recently reintroduced their national services to meet their own specific needs. In the US, the National Community Service centers around the Corporation for National and Community Service (CNCS), a federal agency that runs programs like AmeriCorps and Senior Corps, mobilising millions of Americans in service to address needs in education, disaster relief, environment, and more, fostering civic duty and offering educational awards for service.

Incorporate National Service into Educational Reforms

We must mobilize our youthful energy into a national service portfolio unique to our own needs giving due recognition to our history, geography and culture. As a long-term investment, this should be initiated while children are still in school, preparing them mentally and physically to contribute to nation-building.

A well-designed National Volunteer Community Service would instill discipline and foster essential skills like leadership, responsibility, and mutual respect, while contributing at the same time to national development. We can tailor this service to tackle our unique challenges in public safety, disaster relief, and environment conservation.

Existing school programmes like scouting and cadeting can be innovatively transformed to lay a sound foundation for this life-changing National Service for all schoolchildren. According to the initial estimates of UNICEF, over 275,000 children are among the 1.4 million people affected both physically and mentally who need careful rehabilitation.

The current educational reforms are an ideal platform to impart crucial values in patriotism and introduce essential skills like time management, discipline, and accountability. This system could not only build successful individuals but also help decrease social issues like substance abuse and crime among youth.

In the immediate future, to meet the demands of the recovery effort now, currently available volunteers should be engaged as understudy groups, working alongside the armed forces and government departments involved in the rebuilding process. The long-term investment in a Mandatory National Service, on the other hand, will strengthen our national identity and contribute to the “unified operational mechanism” the President has called for.

The author can be contacted at nimsavg@gmail.com

by Emeritus Professor
Nimal Gunatilleke

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