Features

Amusing and interesting courtroom experiences in pre-Independent Ceylon

Published

3 years ago

2023/03/12

Excerpted from Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Pieris

We have an unusual practice at the Ceylon Bar where lawyers address each other by their Christian or nicknames. This in not the English practice where the rawest junior addresses the most senior silk by his surname. This was forcibly brought to my notice when I accompanied a friend of mine who wanted to meet Sir Henry Curtiss-Bennett regarding his call. When my friend addressed the silk as “Sir Henry”, he said, “Good Lord, to you I am just Curtiss-Bennett”.

My first case in the Supreme court was at the Colombo Assizes before Akbar J. I was assigned by the Crown to defend in a murder case. I took all possible pains over my brief and, when it was my turn to address the jury, put forward what I thought was a fairly good defence. Akbar, in his summing-up, did not put a single one of my points to the jury, and I was too nervous as a beginner to interrupt him. The jury found the accused guilty. The electric fans were stopped; the judge put the black cap on and passed sentence of death.

There was no Court of Criminal Appeal at the time. I mentioned the matter of the summing-up to a few senior lawyers and I was advised to see the judge in chambers next morning and explain my point of view to him. He received me courteously and listened to me with a great deal of patience. At the end of it, I was surprised to hear the judge telling me that I was probably right, that he had had a doubt in his own mind, that he had no sleep the previous night and that he had already recommended to His Excellency the Governor that the sentence of death be not carried out.

He gave me his report to read and said he had typed it himself as his mind was troubling him. He told me that the sentence would be altered to one of life, that is, 20 years, which, with remission for good conduct, would amount to about 14 years. I went to see the man in prison and asked him, now that sentence had been passed on him, to tell me the truth as regards his guilt or innocence. He said he was a religious man with a wife and several children and that murder was not in his line.

Early in my career, I had to see Mr Justice Drieberg in Chambers over a habeas corpus application. I was again nervous about seeing a “live” judge in Chambers, by which I mean a judge without robes and wig, working away in his shirtsleeves. On my knocking at his door, I was asked to come in. The judge rose and shook hands and inquired what my business was. He inquired who was on the other side and desired to see both counsel together. He then stood up, which meant that the interview was over, came across his table to the wing door which he opened in person and bowed me out. I wish there were more men like that in high places showing courtesy to younger fellows and the public.

Soertsz J. held his drinks well but, at work, was a peppery old bird. He was an extremely good speaker, particularly after dinner. In his charges to the jury, the sentences ran, clause within clause, grammatically correct. His sentences were so long that they reminded one of Walter Scott’s novels or a chapter of Thucydides. He was a master or the classics who read some Greek or Latin every morning before he came to court. He had no patience with counsel who wasted his time or who indulged in irrelevancies. On days when he had to pass a sentence of death, his whole household knew from his manner what had happened in court. The judge was in a bad mood; the family had to keep silent because the slightest talk or noise would upset him. It is said that, on these occasions, even his Alsatian crept under the dining table.

At an Assize trial, counsel was trying to make a big point before Soertsz, thumping the Bar table and asking the witness “You say here that you were four fathoms away from James when the stabbing took place. Did you say in the Magistrate’s court that you were together?” Soertsz J.: “Mr…, when the witness says they were together, he does not mean that they were Siamese twins.”

On another day, again at Assizes, a most amusing bit of conversation took place before Soertsz. Defending counsel was not very senior at the Bar and not very good in the subtle use of English words. He just got there in his questions; but only just. Something occasionally misfired in the use of a word. It was a murder trial, and a small boy had completed his evidence. The next witness was the boy’s mother, a very good-looking village woman in her early 30s. Counsel asked “Are you the mother of the previous witness?” Answer, “Yes”. Counsel: “And who is the father of this boy?” The judge, with a slight show of loss of temper at this waste of time asked, “Really, Mr…, is all this relevant to this murder case?” And counsel replied, “My Lord, I will not press the question as it appears to be embarrassing to your Lordship.”

Of Garvin J., I have the pleasantest memories. He had been my father’s classmate at the Royal College. The Editor of the New Law Reports had asked me to report a case regarding a dispute about the sale and purchase of rubber, the amount in dispute being over two lakhs of rupees. The point was taken that there was never any intention to purchase the rubber, that only the difference was to be paid according as the market price rose or fell, and that therefore it was a gaming and wagering contract unenforceable at law.

On the Bench were Garvin and Akbar J. For the appellant was H. V. Perera; against him Soertsz. The judges were told that there might be an appeal to the Privy Council. The law of wagering was traced from the Twelve Tables downwards. All the available law was cited and the Bar table was an array of books. There was a book on the subject by Perezius, a Latin writer, an enormous book about the size of a bound edition of the Times of Ceylon, covered with the dust of the Law Library and which no one on the Library had ever looked at. The judges insisted on looking into the book and it was dusted and brought in, flagged at the proper page and handed to H. V. who said “My Lords, this is in Latin”.

Soertsz rose and said “My Lords, I will translate the relevant passage for Your Lordships”, and went through the passage like a Latin unseen in our school days. The judges wanted a written translation in English which was furnished by E. B. Wikramanayake, who also translated and published a complete work of Perezius.

Professor Lee, in his book on Roman-Dutch Law which the judges now looked at, had, in a footnote, referred the reader to a very useful article on wagering contained in a certain volume of the South African Law Journal which the court wanted but no one seemed to have. A hurried search of the Judges’ Library, the Attorney-General’s Library and the private libraries of the leading Colombo lawyers proved fruitless. I told Soertsz that my uncle Jayawickrama had the book in his library at Matara and, at Garvin’s request, a telegram was sent to him asking him to be kind enough to lend the book. The book was sent; but it was not returned-by the court.

About five months later, I was retained in a rape case at Matara as Junior to my uncle. I drove to his house the previous evening and he complained to me of the probable loss of the book by its loan to the Supreme Court. The set of volumes had lost its value. He did not wish to write officially to the court, but asked me, on my return, to speak to Garvin. And there I was, a few days afterwards, standing before Garvin’s chambers, waiting for the Judge’s return for lunch. While he was having his sandwiches, I related the story of the unreturned book. He was very angry and there and then dictated, to his private secretary, a personal letter of apology to be sent along with the book. In reprimanding his secretary, the judge to my surprise, used one of those famous four letter words which has not yet got into the dictionaries.

Duff House case

The Duff House case, where, Stephen Seneviratne stood charged with the murder of his wife by chloroform, came for trial before Akbar. R. L. Pereira was defending with M. W. H. de Silva, Solicitor-General, and Wendt, Crown Counsel, appearing for the crown. Wendt, a straight man, told me years later, that he was miserable throughout the case. He did not go into detail. Apparently, there were many features grating against decorous judicial behaviour. The jury found the accused guilty and sentence was passed.

There was an appeal to the Privy Council which was allowed. Akbar resigned shortly afterwards. There was something which I found very difficult to explain in Akbar’s attitude whenever a person of some education and respectability appeared before him as an accused. There was the case where a silver-haired Tamil gentleman, shroff in a Bank, stood in the dock between two Fiscal’s officers, accused of fraud. He did not look to me the type of man who would throw an ink pot at the Judge, but as soon as the jury returned a verdict of guilty, the judge said “Handcuff the prisoner”.

Mr Justice E. W. Jayewardene, father of J. R. and Corbett, was portly and pompous, and at the same time, a kindly and dignified man who, on coming on the Bench, carefully placed a few of his personal belongings, like his gold watch, on his desk. He was familiar with his Bible and his Shakespeare and expected counsel to be equally proficient. He was also fond of cracking a joke and appreciated a crown counsel who was able to make an appropriate and equally humorous remark in reply.

In a murder trial before him, in which Crown Counsel E. H. T. Gunesekera was prosecuting, the Police Inspector was giving evidence and producing several pieces of bloodstained clothing which the deceased, a basket woman, had been wearing at the time she was stabbed to death. There was a bloodstained camboy marked P1, a bloodstained jacket marked P2, and when the Inspector produced a bloodstained chemise marked P3, the judge interjected “Mr Crown Counsel, do basket women wear chemises?” Replied E. H. T., “My Lord, I am not acquainted with the undergarments of basket women”. “Proceed with the case, Mr Crown Counsel,” said the Judge.

On another occasion, again with E. H. T. for the Crown, a string of Sinhalese village witnesses with names like Charles, James, David, had given evidence when the Judge asked “Why these names, Mr Crown Counsel? Haven’t we got good old Sinhalese names?” To which the prosecutor replied that no blame could be attached to these poor villagers for following those more and better educated who preferred to call their sons Richard and Corbett. Crown Counsel was asked to proceed with the case.

This was not rudeness on the part of the judge. He just enjoyed the ready wit even though, at times, it was a hit at him. The foreman of the jury was once dozing in the jury box. E. W. J. would not address him. Instead he said “Mr Registrar, will you please wake up the Foreman of the Jury.” I don’t think the judge was ever known to lose his temper on the Bench. This is a quality inherited by the sons.

MacDonnell, Chief Justice, was a classical scholar from Oxford and a contemporary of Lord Birkenhead. When MacDonnell disliked an argument, he had a habit of slipping down his chair, with the result that he could not be seen from the Bar Table. He held a blue pencil in one hand and a red pencil in the other, and used both pencils and hands to mark his brief, blue for points with which he agreed, red for those contra.

Each day, the briefs for the following day were put into his car. He took these with him to the Galle Face k, and, with his car parked under one of the street lamps, read them all and marked them with his two pencils. Where the trial judge had said that he agreed with the evidence of a witness, the Chief also often agreed and underlined the relevant passage in blue. If the judge had said he disbelieved the evidence, the passage was marked in red. It was thus possible, by looking at the judge’s brief, to see which way his mind was working.

My good and dear friend, James Homer Vanniasinkam who is now dead, had a case before the C. J. in which he was appearing for the respondent. He had a brainwave. The marked briefs were returned to the Registry each morning to be placed on the judge’s desk before court sat. James looked at the brief and found the underlining to be in his favour. He marked his own brief accordingly.

Appellant’s counsel did not have an easy passage with the judge. James rose to reply and did not waste the time of the court. He referred to the “strong” judgement of the trial judge, and the C. J. bowed. He then, shortly referred to page 2, line 5; page 6, line 10, and so on, and each time, the judge gave a polite bow. After about eight of such references, James bowed in turn and sat down. The Chief said “Thank you, Mr Vanniasinkam for putting your case so concisely. It’s amazing, but the identical points struck me last night.”

MacDonnell bought a small Austin motor car and learned to drive. He drove at about five miles an hour up San Sebastian Hill, with the driver seated by his side. Protruding on the right of the driving seat was a peculiar fixture, an artificial hand which was worked from a switch on the dashboard. This worked palm downwards vertically to indicate that the judge was going to slow down, and palm forwards horizontally to indicate that he was ready to be overtaken. The gadget was used liberally by the Chief.

Poyser J., in his last year, was Senior Puisne. As a judge, he was silent and polite. Every member of the Bar liked and respected him. He was, if I may say so, a popular judge. This may not be an appropriate epithet to use in reference to the holder of judicial office, but fact, the undoubted, inexplicable and obvious fact of his popularity, was there. Perhaps, it was the smile on his lips; or it might have been that twinkle in his eye. I do not know. But the Bar, which rarely accords a farewell to a retiring judge except by their presence in court when the Attorney makes his customary farewell speech, rose spontaneously in a body and accorded Mr Justice Poyser a lunch at the Galle Face Hotel.

More than one hundred lawyers, including judges, sat. R. L. Pereira, in proposing the toast of the chief guest, said that he was proud of the fact that he had been asked to give utterance to the mingled feelings of joy and sorrow of the Bar on the promotion of Mr Poyser. He continued: “I can say that we have always found Mr Poyser to be a courteous, patient and painstaking judge. The belief in British justice is as widespread as the British Empire is far-flung and if anybody has done his best to maintain that belief, it is Mr Justice Poyser.

“This is neither the time nor the place for any comparisons to be drawn, but this can be said, that Mr Justice Poyser has made himself a most excellent judge. Coming here to a new system of complex land laws, he soon tackled the problems before him, and in a short time, showed a complete mastery of the laws prevailing in this country. Those of you who have appeared before him will know with what unfailing patience he listened to the rawest junior arguing the complications of a case. Mr Poyser has always listened to them with interest and attention and has made them feel that the points they were urging were fully appreciated and considered by him.

“Our sorrow at his departure is, in a measure, relieved by the fact that he is going on well-earned promotion. After all, it is not possible for a man to resist the temptation of higher office, better salary and the prospects of earning a good pension. From that standpoint, we congratulate him on his good fortune. As a matter of fact, we were surprised that his capabilities were not recognized much earlier. A bird, however, has whispered to me that many promotions did come his way, but his love for Ceylon was so great that he turned them down.”

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Features

Power crept into the Sangha and is now tearing it apart

Published

8 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

A file photo of Buddhist monks engaged in a protest

For more than a century, Sri Lankan society has lived with a quiet contradiction at the heart of its religious life. On the one hand, the Buddhist monk is revered as the embodiment of moral discipline, selfrestraint, and renunciation. On the other, the modern monk has become a public figure, political actor, administrator, media personality, and in some cases power broker whose influence extends far beyond the temple. This contradiction has been tolerated, even celebrated, for decades. But recent events, most notably a widely publicised case involving a senior monk accused of grave moral misconduct, have forced the country to confront a painful truth: the institutional conditions that make such scandals possible are not new. They are the predictable outcome of a long historical process that H. L. Seneviratne described with remarkable clarity in The Work of Kings. The moral deterioration visible today is not an aberration. It is the culmination of a centurylong transformation in the identity, function, and authority of the Sangha.

To understand how we arrived at this moment, it is necessary to revisit the argument Seneviratne made nearly three decades ago. His thesis was simple but profound: the modern Sri Lankan monkhood has taken on the ‘work of kings.’ By this he meant that monks, instead of confining themselves to the renunciant life prescribed by the Vinaya, have assumed the secular responsibilities once associated with precolonial kingship, such as protecting the religion, organising society, guiding the nation, and enforcing moral order. This shift, he argued, was not a natural evolution of Buddhist tradition but a modern invention shaped by colonialism, nationalism, and the anxieties of a society struggling to redefine itself in the face of foreign domination. The monk became a symbol of national identity, a guardian of cultural authenticity, and a leader in the struggle for political autonomy. In the process, the boundaries that once separated the monastic from the worldly began to dissolve.

Transformation

The consequences of this transformation were not immediately visible. For decades, the activist monk was celebrated as a patriot, a reformer, and a moral guide. His involvement in education, social welfare, and nationalist mobilisation was seen as a necessary response to colonial pressures and missionary competition. But beneath the surface, the foundations of monastic discipline were slowly eroding. The Vinaya, which had served for centuries as a rigorous framework for regulating monastic life, was increasingly overshadowed by the demands of public engagement. The communal structures that once ensured accountability, senior supervision, collective confession, and the daily rhythms of monastic routine, were weakened by the pressures of modernity. Monks who travelled constantly, managed institutions, or lived independently in urban temples found themselves outside the traditional systems of oversight that had long protected the integrity of the Sangha.

Scandal

It is within this historical context that the recent scandal must be understood. The case shocked the nation not only because of the severity of the allegations but because it shattered the public’s assumption that the monkhood remains a bastion of moral purity. Yet the shock itself reveals a collective denial. For years, Sri Lankan society has been aware, sometimes quietly, sometimes openly—of the growing gap between the ideal of the monk and the realities of modern monastic life. Stories of misconduct, financial irregularities, political manipulation, and abuse of authority have circulated with increasing frequency. But each incident has been treated as an isolated failure, a personal weakness, or an unfortunate exception. What has been missing is recognition that these incidents are symptoms of a deeper structural problem.

Seneviratne’s analysis helps illuminate this problem. When monks take on the work of kings, they inevitably enter domains of power that expose them to temptations the Vinaya was designed to avoid. Handling money, managing institutions, cultivating political patrons, and exercising authority over laypeople create opportunities for ego, ambition, and moral compromise. The monk who becomes a public figure is no longer shielded by the anonymity and humility of the renunciant life. Instead, he becomes a celebrity, a leader, and in some cases an object of uncritical devotion. This elevation brings with it a dangerous form of immunity. Laypeople who revere a monk for his public achievements may hesitate to question his behaviour. Politicians who rely on monastic support may protect him from scrutiny. The media, which often treats monks as moral authorities, may be reluctant to investigate allegations that challenge the sanctity of the robe.

The recent scandal illustrates how these dynamics can converge. The monk at the centre of the case was not an obscure figure. He was a respected preacher, charismatic leader, and head of a prominent institution. His public image was built on years of service, teaching, and community engagement. Yet it was precisely this public stature that allowed him to operate without meaningful oversight. The institutional structures around him, administrators, lay supporters, and junior monks, were either unwilling or unable to challenge his authority. The very qualities that made him a respected figure in the eyes of the public also made him untouchable within his own institution. When allegations finally emerged, they revealed not only personal wrongdoing but a systemic failure of accountability.

Failure that is not unique

This failure is not unique to one temple or one monk. It reflects a broader pattern within the modern Sangha. As monastic institutions have grown in size, wealth, and influence, their internal governance has struggled to keep pace. Many temples operate as semiautonomous entities controlled by a single monk or a small group of monks. Financial transparency is limited, administrative oversight is weak, and the mechanisms for addressing misconduct are often informal or ineffective. The traditional structures of monastic discipline, such as the Sangharama procedures for adjudicating offences, are rarely used in modern contexts, partly because they require collective participation and partly because they are illsuited to the complexities of contemporary institutional life. In practice, this means that monks who wield significant authority can act with little fear of internal sanction.

The politicisation of the Sangha has further complicated matters. Since the midtwentieth century, monks have played an increasingly prominent role in electoral politics, nationalist movements, and public policy debates. This involvement has given them access to political networks that can be mobilised to protect their interests. It has also created a culture in which monks are valued not for their adherence to the Vinaya but for their ability to influence public opinion, mobilise voters, or lend moral legitimacy to political causes. In such an environment, the monk who is politically useful may be shielded from criticism, while the monk who adheres strictly to the renunciant ideal may find himself marginalised or ignored.

The result is a profound distortion of monastic identity. The monk who once sought liberation from worldly attachments is now encouraged to cultivate influence, authority, and public recognition. The monk who once lived under the strict supervision of senior elders now operates in a world where independence is celebrated and oversight is minimal. The monk who once relied on laypeople for basic sustenance now controls vast resources, manages institutions, and commands the loyalty of thousands of followers. This inversion of traditional roles has created a fertile ground for moral deterioration.

Yet it would be a mistake to interpret this deterioration as evidence that the Sangha as a whole is corrupt. Many monks continue to live lives of remarkable discipline, humility, and spiritual dedication. In remote forest monasteries, small village temples, and meditation centres across the country, monks quietly uphold the ancient ideals of the renunciant life. They are not the ones who appear on television, lead political rallies, or manage large institutions. Their work is invisible, their influence subtle, and their commitment unwavering. The crisis facing the Sangha today is not a crisis of individual morality but a crisis of institutional identity. It is the product of a centurylong transformation that has blurred the boundaries between the monastic and the secular, the spiritual and the political, the renunciant and the worldly.

If Sri Lanka is to address this crisis, it must begin by acknowledging the structural nature of the problem. The temptation to treat each scandal as an isolated incident must be resisted. Instead, the country must confront the uncomfortable reality that the modern configuration of monastic life is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the Vinaya. The Sangha cannot simultaneously function as a political force, a social service provider, a media institution, and a spiritual community without compromising its integrity. The more monks are drawn into the world, the more vulnerable they become to the moral dangers that the Buddha warned against.

Reform, therefore, must focus not only on punishing individual offenders but on rethinking the institutional structures that enable misconduct. This includes strengthening internal governance, enhancing financial transparency, restoring the authority of senior elders, and reestablishing the communal practices that once ensured accountability. It also requires a broader cultural shift in how laypeople relate to monks. Blind devotion must give way to informed respect. Reverence must be balanced with responsibility. The robe must be honoured, but it must not be used as a shield against scrutiny.

Seneviratne’s work offers a valuable starting point for this rethinking. His analysis reminds us that the crisis facing the Sangha is not the result of moral decline alone but of historical forces that reshaped the identity of the monkhood. By tracing the evolution of the activist monk, he shows how the Sangha became entangled in the political and social structures of the modern nationstate. This entanglement has brought both benefits and dangers. It has allowed monks to play important roles in education, social welfare, and national development. But it has also exposed them to the corrupting influences of power, wealth, and public acclaim.

The challenge now is to disentangle the Sangha from these influences without undermining its ability to serve society. This will not be easy. The activist monk has become deeply embedded in the cultural and political fabric of the country. Many laypeople expect monks to be leaders, reformers, and guardians of national identity. Politicians rely on monastic support to legitimise their agendas. Media institutions depend on monks for content, commentary, and moral authority. Reversing this trend will require a collective effort from monks, laypeople, and political leaders alike.

Ultimately, the future of the Sangha depends on its ability to reclaim the renunciant ideal that lies at the heart of Buddhist monasticism. This does not mean withdrawing from society entirely, but it does mean reestablishing the boundaries that protect the monk from the dangers of worldly involvement. It means recognising that the true strength of the Sangha lies not in its political influence or institutional power but in its moral authority, its spiritual discipline, and its commitment to the path of liberation. The recent scandal, painful as it is, may serve as a catalyst for this reevaluation. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the modern monastic system and forced the country to confront the consequences of a centurylong transformation.

To understand how the Vihara Devalegam Act relates to the perceived moral deformation of the clergy, it is necessary to examine how property management, state law, and monastic discipline intersect in the modern era. Historically stemming from the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance No. 19 of 1931, this act serves as the primary legal framework governing the ‘temporalities’—meaning the secular wealth, extensive landholdings, and material donations belonging to Buddhist temples and shrines. While ancient kings granted these vast tracts of land to support the monkhood’s spiritual pursuits, the modern codification of this law has inadvertently fostered a system where property rights frequently supersede spiritual accountability.

The core of the crisis lies in the commercialisation of the monastic order that this legal framework enables. By treating temple lands as economic assets and vesting absolute administrative power in individual chief monks or lay trustees, the act has contributed to the rise of what critics term a monastic middle class. Access to vast, unregulated financial resources, rent from lands, and corporate donations has fundamentally shifted the focus of certain segments of the clergy away from the traditional path of worldly renunciation and spiritual guidance. Instead, it has driven a preoccupation with business investments, the accumulation of private capital, and luxury lifestyles, which deeply alienates a public looking to the Sangha for moral leadership.

The institutional flaws embedded in the Vihara Devalegam Act find a stark, real-world manifestation in the recent criminal case involving Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero. As the chief priest of Anuradhapura and the custodian of the Atamasthana—the eight highly venerated Buddhist shrines, including the sacred Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi—Hemarathana Thero occupied one of the most powerful and wealthy positions within the Sri Lankan Sangha. His arrest on charges of sexual abuse of a minor girl perfectly illustrates how the structural defects of the Act facilitate not only moral decay but also the systemic obstruction of justice.

The core of this intersection lies in the vast, unaccountable wealth generated by the temporalities of the Anuradhapura shrines. Under the Vihara Devalegam Act, the chief custodian exercises immense, virtually unchecked control over temple revenues, state-backed land management, and millions of rupees in daily donations from millions of global pilgrims. It is precisely this immense financial liquidity that enabled the alleged deployment of vast sums of money to the victim’s family.

Furthermore, the situation underscores the profound policy failures cited regarding the helplessness of the monastic hierarchy and state enforcement. When child protection authorities initially attempted to act, the National Child Protection Authority noted severe delays and institutional resistance, stating they practically had to force the police to execute the arrest. The monk’s immediate retreat to a private hospital in Colombo upon the advancement of the criminal probe, followed by his release on bail, mirrors the exact loop described where wealthy monastics deploy high-priced legal defence teams funded directly or indirectly by their institutional positions. Because the Vihara Devalegam Act does not provide a mechanism for the immediate, unconditional forfeiture of temporal administrative rights upon a criminal indictment, the accused retains his structural power throughout the legal process. The Pallegama Thero scandal stands as definitive proof that without a fundamental overhaul of how temple wealth is legally governed and disciplined, the material benefits guaranteed by ancient temporalities will continue to shield the worst elements of moral deformation from the rule of law.

If Sri Lanka can learn from this moment and if it can recognise the structural roots of the crisis and commit to meaningful reform, then the Sangha may yet emerge stronger, more disciplined, and more faithful to its ancient ideals. But if the country continues to treat each scandal as an isolated failure and if it continues to ignore the deeper institutional problems that Seneviratne identified, then the moral deterioration we see today will only deepen. The work of kings, when performed by monks, carries a heavy price. It is time to decide whether that price is worth paying.

by Professor Amarasiri de Silva

Features

Kondachchi wind farm and battery storage project to boost energy security, says Power Ministry Secretary

Published

8 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

The Power and Energy Ministry’s drive towards energy security and renewable energy expansion received a major boost yesterday with the signing of a tripartite cooperation agreement for the development of the 150 MW Kondachchi Wind Power Project and an integrated Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) in Mannar.

The agreement was signed at the Ministry of Power auditorium under the patronage of Power Minister Anura Karunatilaka and Deputy Power Minister Arkam Ilyas.

Speaking at the event, Ministry Secretary G. M. R. D. Aponsu described the project as a transformative investment that would strengthen the country’s electricity network while supporting Sri Lanka’s transition towards cleaner energy sources.

“The Kondachchi Wind Power Project represents a significant milestone in Sri Lanka’s renewable energy journey. By combining large-scale wind generation with advanced battery energy storage technology, we are creating a more resilient and reliable power system capable of meeting future energy demands while reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels,” Aponsu said.

The project will be developed at Silavathurai in the Kondachchi area of Mannar on lands owned by the Sri Lanka Cashew Corporation. It is expected to utilise some 31 modern wind turbines with a total installed capacity of at least 150 MW.

Aponsu said the inclusion of an integrated battery storage facility would help address the variability associated with wind power generation and ensure stable electricity supply to the national grid.

“The battery energy storage component is a key feature of this project. It will enable the efficient integration of renewable energy into the grid and enhance overall system stability, which is essential as Sri Lanka increases the share of renewables in its energy mix,” he said.

According to the Ministry, the wind farm is expected to generate nearly 525 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually, significantly reducing the country’s expenditure on imported fuel and strengthening national energy security.

The project is also expected to contribute to Sri Lanka’s climate commitments by reducing carbon dioxide emissions by an estimated 372,750 tonnes annually.

“This investment delivers both economic and environmental benefits. It will reduce greenhouse gas emissions, support sustainable development objectives and help Sri Lanka move closer to achieving its renewable energy and climate targets,” Aponsu noted.

The project will be implemented under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) arrangement using the Build, Own and Operate (BOO) model. The Asian Development Bank is providing technical and financial advisory support through its Transaction Advisory Services programme.

The signing ceremony was attended by Pradeep Perera, Chairman of the National System Operator (Pvt) Ltd., and Takeyo Koike, Head of Market Development and Public-Private Partnership Division of the ADB, among other distinguished guests.

The Ministry said comprehensive Environmental Impact Assessments and avifaunal studies have been undertaken to ensure minimal impacts on bird populations, nearby communities and agricultural lands. A dedicated 220-kilovolt transmission system will also be constructed to connect the project to the national grid.

“The Kondachchi Wind Farm is a strategic national project that will help secure Sri Lanka’s energy future while accelerating the country’s transition towards sustainable and affordable electricity generation,” Aponsu said.

Energy sector experts view the project as one of the most important renewable energy initiatives currently being pursued in Sri Lanka, combining utility-scale wind generation with modern energy storage technology to enhance grid reliability and long-term energy sustainability.

By Ifham Nizam

Features

Saudi Arabia sets new benchmark in Hajj management as 1.7 million pilgrims complete sacred journey

Published

9 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

Ambassador Al-Kahtani

Interview with Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka

Saudi Arabia has once again demonstrated its unparalleled capacity to manage one of the world’s largest annual religious gatherings, with this year’s Hajj pilgrimage concluding successfully despite extreme temperatures and the immense logistical challenge of accommodating more than 1.7 million pilgrims from around the world.

In an exclusive interview with The Island, Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka, described the 2026 Hajj season as a resounding success, crediting the achievement to the visionary leadership of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister, and the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies working around the clock to serve pilgrims.

The Ambassador noted that nearly 3,500 Sri Lankan pilgrims participated in this year’s Hajj under the quota allocated to Sri Lanka, benefiting from enhanced healthcare services, sophisticated crowd-management systems, expanded shaded areas and cutting-edge digital solutions introduced by the Kingdom.

With Saudi Arabia continuing to invest heavily in infrastructure, technology and pilgrim services under Vision 2030, Ambassador Al-Kahtani said the Kingdom remains committed to ensuring that pilgrims from around the world perform their religious duties in safety, comfort and tranquility.

The Saudi envoy also highlighted the growing partnership between Saudi Arabia and Sri Lanka, emphasising expanding cooperation not only in Hajj affairs but also in trade, investment, education, culture and institutional exchanges.

Following are excerpts of the interview:

Q: How do you assess this year’s Hajj season?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: This year’s Hajj season was a resounding success, thanks to the Almighty Allah and the integrated efforts of the government of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, led by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister. This success was reflected in the efficiency of crowd management, the quality of services provided to the Hajj pilgrims and the effective coordination among the various relevant authorities, which enabled pilgrims to perform their rituals in an atmosphere of security, tranquility and ease.

Q: How many Sri Lankan pilgrims performed Hajj this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The number of Hajj pilgrims from the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka reached approximately 3,500, within the quota allocated to Sri Lanka for this season.

Q: Are there any discussions regarding increasing Sri Lanka’s quota in the future?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:Hajj quotas are determined according to approved regulatory mechanisms that take into account a range of considerations. The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continue to study various aspects related to developing Hajj services and accommodating the allocated numbers for all countries, in coordination with the concerned parties.

Q: What were the most prominent special arrangements implemented this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The operational plans for this season focused on enhancing the safety and comfort of the Hajj pilgrims, especially given the climatic conditions and high temperatures. Measures included expanding shaded areas, increasing water distribution points and enhancing health and ambulance services, in addition to developing the transportation system and traffic management within the holy sites.

Q: What are the most prominent digital systems and smart services that were provided?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:The Kingdom continues to implement its digital transformation objectives for the Hajj and Umrah system. The scope of electronic services offered through the Nusuk platform and application has been expanded, along with the development of digital systems for issuing permits, managing crowds, guidance and health services. This contributes to increasing the efficiency of services and improving the pilgrim’s experience at all stages of their journey.

Q: How were the challenges of overcrowding and heat addressed?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities adopted an integrated crowd-management system based on modern technologies and real-time data analysis. This was coupled with intensified health-awareness campaigns, expanded organised movement routes and increased deployment of field, medical and emergency teams. These measures support the safety of the Hajj pilgrims and reduce the risks associated with crowd density and climatic conditions.

Q: Were there special services for the elderly and sick?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Yes. The Kingdom paid special attention to the elderly and people with special health needs by providing specialized medical services, assistive transportation and facilities equipped to meet their needs, in addition to field teams working to provide humanitarian support and necessary healthcare throughout the Hajj period.

Q: How successful was the Kingdom in combating irregular Hajj permits?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continued to rigorously implement the regulations and instructions governing Hajj, utilising modern technologies and advanced monitoring procedures to reduce violations related to irregular Hajj. These efforts contributed to enhancing the safety of pilgrims, improving crowd-management efficiency and maintaining the smooth flow of movement within the holy sites.

Q: How would you describe Saudi-Sri Lankan cooperation in organising Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Cooperation between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka is characterised by continuous and constructive coordination in all matters related to Hajj. The relevant authorities in both countries work jointly to ensure the provision of the best services for Sri Lankan pilgrims and enable them to perform their rituals with ease and peace of mind.

Q: How many Hajj pilgrims were there globally, and what were the main challenges?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: According to official statistics, the number of Hajj pilgrims this year reached 1,707,301 from various countries around the world. The main challenges included managing large crowds, ensuring public safety and providing health, transportation and accommodation services within a specific geographical and temporal scope. These challenges were addressed through advanced and integrated operational plans, which contributed to the smooth and successful completion of the Hajj season.

Q: Are there any future expansion projects?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The Kingdom continues to implement strategic development projects within the framework of Vision 2030, including developing the infrastructure in Makkah and the Holy Sites, and enhancing transportation networks and smart services. This contributes to raising the quality of services provided to pilgrims and Umrah performers and improving their long-term experience.

Q: How are Saudi-Sri Lankan relations strengthened outside the context of Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Relations between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka are witnessing continuous development in many areas, including political, economic, trade, cultural and educational cooperation, in addition to developing exchanges between institutions and the private sector. This reflects the two countries’ keenness to strengthen the bilateral partnership and achieve common interests.

Q: What message would you like to convey to Sri Lankan Muslims?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: We extend our sincere congratulations to the Hajj pilgrims who have completed their Hajj rituals, and we ask Almighty Allah to accept their pilgrimage. We also assure Muslims in Sri Lanka that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia places serving the Two Holy Mosques and the guests of Almighty Allah at the forefront of its priorities and continues to develop the Hajj and Umrah system to achieve the highest standards of quality and safety.

By Ifham Nizam