Connect with us

Features

ARTI or Peradeniya University? – career dilemmas of a young man

Published

on

by Jayantha Perera

In 1971, after the failed Marxist uprising against the state, the government introduced the rule that anyone applying for a government job should get a report (a ‘chit’) from the local political agent of the government. This rule especially applied to young men and women, as the government distrusted the youth because of their involvement in the insurrection.

Soon after graduating from the University of Peradeniya in 1972, I applied for a vacancy at the Agrarian Research and Training Institute (ARTI) for a research and training officer (rural sociology). I visited the political agent, who lived in Hendala, to get a chit. The agent was an Ayurvedic doctor who was also a justice of the peace and a member of the Town Council (He was known as ‘Member Mahatmaya.’). He cordially received me in the verandah of his small house. He was in a sarong without a shirt or a vest. A heavy leather belt with a large buckle was around his belly over the sarong. A small towel covered his shoulders.

He complained that my late father had never even said hello to him. I just kept quiet. He then added, “Never mind. People say he was an outstanding teacher. That matters. You know, different people have different personalities.” Then he enquired about what had brought me to him. I told him I had applied for a staff position at the ARTI and needed a good recommendation from him. He smiled and said, “Yes, every day, I get one or two inquiries about job applicants from government ministries. I will send a good recommendation if the Ministry requests me to send a report on you. Please do not forget to say hello when we meet again.”

Mahinda Silva, the Ministry of Agriculture and Lands Secretary, chaired the interview panel. He welcomed me and asked, “Do you want us to interview you in English or Sinhala?” I replied, “In both.” Mahinda chuckled and said, “Alright, we’ll start with a few questions in English and then switch to Sinhala.” The interview focused on collaborating with economists, agronomists, and communication specialists in sociological studies. I used the term “social structure” several times. Mahinda encouraged me to elaborate my thoughts without using abstract concepts, inspiring me to express myself more clearly.

Two weeks later, the ARTI Registrar told me to meet Mahinda. I found Mahinda in the ARTI Chairman’s office, an air-conditioned room with comfortable chairs and a large desk. A peon with a colourful sash and an apron served tea with biscuits, butter cake, and devilled cashew nuts. I sat on the edge of a chair, scared to sit back in such an august environment. Mahinda asked me about my school, family background, and teachers he knew at the university while going through some files.

He asked me whether I wanted to join the ARTI. I said, “Yes, Sir.” Mahinda smiled and got up with some papers in his hand. He was a tall man, dark in complexion. He was in his fifties. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt with a pair of baggy white trousers. I noted that he wore sandals, not socks and shoes. He had a disarming smile, which made me comfortable. He told me that the ARTI was a new institute. I should get ready to do postgraduate studies in England.

I told Mahinda what the political agent had told me. He laughed and said the Honourable Minister was a progressive man who did not rely on political chits to appoint deserving candidates to staff positions. He then asked me if I had any connections with the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) party, which led the 1971 insurrection. I explained that I was the Vice President of the University’s Communist Party (Peking Wing) and was involved in student politics but had no ties with the JVP. Mahinda said, “Your involvement in student politics is a sign of your leadership.” This acknowledgement of my leadership skills made me feel trusted and empowered.

Mahinda came to the ARTI with the Minister to meet the new recruits. He outlined critical research issues in the agrarian sector, including rural landlessness, poverty among agricultural wage workers, and undeveloped rural markets. The Minister told us, “We all should try to find solutions to such issues, and I know the ARTI can play a vital role. We provide vehicles, international advisers, and facilities to do research.”

In early May 1974, six months after joining the ARTI, I received a letter from Peradeniya University. The letter said, “The Dean of the Faculty of Arts wishes to see you on Saturday to discuss the timetable. You can start classes soon as a visiting lecturer.”

The ARTI Director was unhappy about the offer of a visiting lectureship and worried that I might leave ARTI to join the university. A few days later, the Registrar informed me that the Chairman had granted me permission to take up the visiting lectureship for three months, and such work must not interfere with my ARTI work.

Two months later, the university advertised two assistant lectureships in sociology. I applied for one without informing the ARTI. Although I was happy at the ARTI, I wanted to join the university because I thought teaching and researching was my vocation. Soon after the interview, the Dean of the Arts Faculty, whom I knew well, asked me to meet him in his office. He offered me a cup of tea and said, “Jayantha, you already have an excellent job at a premier research institute in Colombo. It offers much better prospects than an assistant lectureship in pursuing postgraduate studies abroad.” Then, he requested that I withdraw my application for the assistant lectureship before the second interview.

I told him my dream was to become a university professor one day, and I did not want to abandon that opportunity. He told me, “One of the candidates is from a remote village, and it would be difficult for him to find a job as you did. A university position is a good job for him. We can appoint him to one of the assistant lectureships if you withdraw your application. You are one of the chosen candidates.”

I was shocked and dispirited. I was unhappy, hurt, and confused. I did not know what to do. My ambition to become a lecturer and, finally, a professor at Peradeniya University seemed dashed against a rock. For a week, I was thinking about the second interview. I decided to get Mahinda’s advice. I visited him at the Ministry. He listened carefully and advised me to tell the ARTI Director about the offer and the issue raised by the Dean. He did not ask why I had applied without informing the ARTI.

The following morning, in the Chairman’s room, the ARTI Director asked me in front of Mahinda, “What do you think about the offer?” I told him about the Dean’s request. He asked me, “Are you interested in the university position. I said, “Yes.” Mahinda intervened and told me, “Jayantha, I respect your judgment. You should decide, not me or the Director. But I want to tell you one thing. Many people think getting a professorship at the university is like attaining nirvana. But that is a myth. I know many professors who are unhappy and trapped in the system. Please stay with us and get your postgraduate degrees as early as possible. As a young man, you have many opportunities ahead of you in life. You can decide to join a university in Sri Lanka or abroad later. Your postgraduate qualifications, research experience, and publications will place you in good stead to become a professor. But the decision is yours. You take time to decide. Please tell the Director your decision by the end of this week.”

I considered my options: to pursue an academic path at the university or to stay at the ARTI and become a development practitioner. The first would take me to Kandy, and the other would allow me to stay in Colombo. At the university, scholarships for higher studies were not guaranteed. After two years at the ARTI, I would become eligible for postgraduate studies abroad.

Going against the Dean’s advice and joining the university could harm me in the long run. Especially in the allocation of scholarships, the Dean had significant power. He might not recommend me for a scholarship because I had not listened to him. I was scared he might convince the second interview panel to select the candidate he supported and not offer me the lectureship. On the other hand, the ARTI had chosen me for a research and training officer post, and Mahinda had allowed me to teach at Peradeniya University as a visiting lecturer. His treatment of a ‘chit’ from the local political agent showed his liberal views and compassion towards young graduates who worried about political manipulations that could harm them.

I discussed my predicament with my mother and granduncle. Both said I should stay at the ARTI. My mother said I could travel to work from home and she could give me a tasty lunch parcel every day. My granduncle said I should remain in Colombo as I should soon start looking for a bride. He thought finding a suitable marriage partner in Colombo was much easier than in Kandy.

I told the Director I had decided to stay at the ARTI and did not attend the second interview. Later, I heard that the interview panel was prepared to postpone the second interview so that I could attend it on another day. I informed the Dean that I had decided to stay at the ARTI and asked him to approve my visiting lectureship. He agreed.

I wondered why the Dean discouraged me from coming for the second interview. He probably believed that ARTI was a better place for my career than the university, and he was genuinely worried about his candidate’s future. Many years later, a university colleague told me that the Dean supported the other candidate because both belonged to the same caste and from the same region. Anyway, I correctly decided not to join the university.

Mahinda frequently visited the ARTI to discuss their research programmes and field findings with the staff. He was a great storyteller. He cracked a joke or two before narrating a story. He mesmerized listeners with his stories. After a training programme in Tambuttegama, we had lunch at a farmer’s house. Mahinda noticed several young women who were busy serving visitors. Mahinda wanted to know whether I had selected the village for my fieldwork because of the girls. I told him, “Not necessarily.” He laughed and told me his guess was, at least, partially correct!

He told me about his humble beginnings. The Durham scholarship he had won enabled him to study in Colombo and enter the University of Ceylon. He completed his BA Honors degree in English under Professor Ludowyk. Mahinda planned to earn a living as an English teacher in Galle. But his friends and relatives encouraged him to sit the Ceylon Civil Service examination. He was among the 12 candidates chosen to become civil servants in 1950.

In the mid-1950s, Mahinda was an assistant postmaster general. During SWRD Bandaranaike’s government, there was a series of labour union strikes. Interdiction of a minor servant by Mahinda for assaulting an officer triggered a strike at the Postal Department. Mahinda received a call from the Prime Minister’s Office to be present at the Cabinet Secretariat. He thought the Prime Minister might ask him to resign as a part of the political solution to the strike. He got ready to go home and start English classes for local children.

peon led him to the Cabinet room. Bandaranaike asked Mahinda why he had interdicted the minor employee. Mahinda explained that the minor employee had an argument with an officer, lost his temper, and squeezed the officer’s testicles. Bandaranaike laughed aloud and asked Mahinda, “Is it a crime if a man squeezes another man’s balls?” Bandaranaike advised Mahinda to use administrative regulations sparingly. Mahinda left the Cabinet Office and waited until the Post Mater General came out of the Cabinet Office. He came out with the Minister. They started laughing when they saw Mahinda. The Minister told Mahinda to reinstate the minor servant if the trade unions were willing to call off the strike. Mahinda successfully ended the strike.

The day I left for the UK for postgraduate studies at the Institute of Development Studies (IDS), University of Sussex, the Director invited me to his residence for dinner, and Mahinda joined us. Mahinda told me it would be freezing cold in the UK, and I should have long johns (thermal men’s underwear). He gifted me two new pairs of long johns. While sipping a glass of arrack with soda, he told me I had done well as a researcher at the ARTI. He was happy that I had stayed with the ARTI. He said, laughing, that he would look for a suitable bride when I returned from England.

I met Mahinda at the IDS. He was on an official visit. He told me that my supervisor had suggested I be allowed to do a PhD and that he could find funds for me. Mahinda agreed to extend my leave of absence so that I could complete the PhD.

After retirement, Mahinda converted his garage at home in Ratmalana into a bedsitter with a narrow bed, a writing table, and a cupboard. Its roof was asbestos sheets, and the room had no ceiling fan. He had all the volumes of Prof Joseph Needham’s ‘Science and Civilisation in China’ on the shelf. Once, I saw him underlining passages in a volume and writing notes in an exercise book. When I asked him why he was reading Needham, he said we could learn much from China.

1984, I asked him to be my referee as I applied for a USA fellowship. He wrote a long reference letter in which he clearly stated his views on the role of social researchers in Sri Lanka: “I do not believe that a social scientist working in a developing country like Sri Lanka can afford to view problems solely through the mirror of his books. His conceptual and methodological training must always be matched by a thorough familiarity with the grinding realities in the field. Jayantha has learned this lesson only too well during his long tenure with the ARTI.”

(Last Sunday’s article on “Weere, the blind scholar at Peradeniya” was written by the writer of this article, Jayantha Perera. We apologise for his byline being inadvertently omitted. Editor)



Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

Aragalaya  betrayed? 

Published

on

Aragalaya

‘The treason of the intellectuals’ in the age of populism – Part I

Sri Lankans recently celebrated the fourth anniversary of the Aragalaya, which, some believe, ushered in an era of Left populism in Sri Lanka. Left politics in Sri Lanka has been ravaged by a crisis, since the late 1970s. It was basically one of an inability to regain the mass basis the Left lost in the 1977 elections. The Left was pushed out of the coalition government, led by Sirimavo, by the right-wing forces, within it, in the context of the global oil crisis that led to the adoption of austerity measures by the government.

This crisis of the Left exploded with the mass uprising ,known as the Aragalaya, which began with the hashtag campaign ‘Gota Go Home’. The nature of its development has come under scrutiny by critics who allege that hidden international hands orchestrated the movement. Nevertheless, the Aragalaya—which developed into an authentic citizen action—ultimately ended in a counter-revolution. The current JVP/NPP government came to power by riding the wave of public awakening that accompanied the Aragalaya.

Is the JVP/NPP government Leftist?

Even though the Western international media, as part of a strategy to manipulate the JVP/NPP administration from time to time, calls it a left government, it works very closely with the right-wing local capitalist class and international financial agencies.

Subaltern or elite?

While there was some initial attempt to identify the JVP/NPP government’s class basis as ‘subaltern,’ in the face of criticism, this formulation was changed to ‘non-elite’. It is correct that, generally, members of the new regime do not belong to the strata of the political elite of the traditional aristocracy and bourgeoisie. However, it can be argued that those who are holding the leadership of the NPP government are those with the aspiration of becoming the new elite. They are the emerging political elite, representing both the rural and urban petty-bourgeois strata.

The leadership consists of those who have risen to the top in professional fields and the bureaucracy, led by those in the fields of academia, medicine, engineering and technology, law, management, business, accountancy, and administration, alongside those who have traditionally been political activists and trade union leaders. Political power has been captured by these petty-bourgeois class elements that have embraced a technocratic ideology. Rallied around them is the capitalist leadership that directs chambers of commerce and is tied in with international capital.

In essence, the current regime represents an alliance formed between the petty-bourgeois and capitalist groups and international finance capital—an alliance that, by now, has replaced the popular bloc formed with ‘janathawa’ (the people) during the election campaign, leading to the formation of the government.

The new elite represents the heirs of the nationalist-Left tendency of the generation of the ‘56 daruwo,’ represented by the JVP, a social force that Bandaranaike released in 1956. The mainstream of the political change of ’56 came to be represented by Bandaranaike’s own party, the SLFP, whose promise of building a common man’s era fizzled out with the regime, led by Mahinda Rajapaksa, coming to an end in 2015. At long last, true representatives of the rural and urban petty bourgeoisie have assumed political power after a long-drawn-out struggle, however, shedding their Left credentials in the process. This is the generation that Gunadasa Amarasekara, the doyen of jathika chintanaya, controversially hoped would take responsibility for the future of the country. While they have assumed political power, their formulation of, what they call, punarudaya (the Renaissance) seems to be at odds with Amarasekara’s wish to recover the ‘Sinhala Buddhist civilisational consciousness’—a point which requires a separate discussion, at another time.

Some of the leftists, who joined the NPP to form the government, seek to justify their choice by claiming that the new regime stands for the two-stage revolution ‘a la Lenin’—that is, first, the bourgeois-democratic stage and then the proletarian-socialist stage; Sri Lanka will achieve industrialisation in the first stage, under punarudaya, or the Renaissance. What is not made clear is how Sri Lanka could industrialise while being under the grip of international finance agencies whose actions, economists argue, from the very beginning of their involvement in the Sri Lankan economy, have preempted even the remotest possibility of the country becoming an industrialised one. With its claim to bringing about economic stability and growth, the government has moved away from serving the genuine interests of the people, and the country, in the fields of economy, polity, and culture, as its critics point out, as briefly outlined in the next section of this article.

It is claimed that the theory of left populism was formulated in opposition to right-wing populism, which furthered the neoliberal agenda. Going by what is outlined below, can the JVP/NPP government be identified as a left-populist one?

Not economic democracy, but autocracy?

Left political parties, groups, and individuals in Sri Lanka widely hold that the crisis of Left politics has been intensified with the current government assuming power. According to their criticisms, the JVP/NPP government is not a Left government.

The current government entered into an agreement on debt restructuring with the IMF based on the conditions imposed by them, despite the expectations of the masses that rallied around the JVP/NPP election campaign and the promises made in its own election manifesto to renegotiate it. Accordingly, placing the larger burden of the haircut of the debt restructuring on the EPF of the working people has been carried out by the JVP/NPP government without any changes to the original plan.

It is apparent that the current government’s economic programme, from its inception, has been directed by the leadership of the representatives of the capitalist class, led by the chambers of commerce. The government has been mainly formulating and implementing government policy, based on the debt provided and the conditions imposed by the IMF and its affiliated institutions, the World Bank and the ADB, rather than on the felt needs of the Sri Lankan people.

An unbearable tax burden is imposed on the people. The government boasts that it has filled the Treasury with trillions of rupees, including the wealth it has exploited, via those taxes. Not only the poor but also the middle classes are oppressed by the unbearable burden of an ever-rising cost of living.

Poverty and malnutrition, which are major determinants of living standards, remain at high levels under the current government. According to official reports, 25 percent of the population lives in extreme poverty, while 80 percent of them live in rural areas. The poverty of the Tamil community, living in plantations, is even higher. Neoliberal economists themselves say that if calculated according to the real cost of living, the population living below the poverty line would be one-third of the total population. Women and children—and among them, girls—suffer the most from all this.

Sri Lanka’s micro-finance and credit crisis has trapped hundreds of thousands of people, mainly rural women, in a deep debt trap through predatory high-interest loans, leading to over 200 reported suicides. Activists have already expressed fears that the Microfinance and Credit Regulatory Authority Act, recently passed by the government, is designed to blame victims and will contribute to the erosion of consumer protections in such a regulatory framework by placing the onus of protection on borrowers. They stress that the Act does not include sufficient provisions to protect micro-finance and credit consumers.

Critics point out that not only our economic sovereignty but also our political sovereignty and security have been compromised by the secret agreements signed by the current government with the global American empire (US-Sri Lanka Security Memorandum of Understanding/Government Partnership Program (2025)) and the regional Indian power (India-Sri Lanka Security Partnership Agreement (2025)).

This government is strengthening relations with Israel—a nation that has embarked on a policy of genocide against Palestinians—and is maintaining cooperation with Israeli intelligence agencies and the military.

The current government has declared the private sector and the market mechanism, not the state sector, as the engine of economic growth at a level surpassing previous governments.

The government has accepted the neoliberal vision of subjugating large areas of social life to the logic of commodification. By allowing the market to behave as it sees fit, people have been subjected to the ruthless control of the market, except in the case of a few essential goods.

Critics have accused the current government of subtly but carefully implementing the privatisation of state-sector institutions, a move that the previous government had withheld in the face of public opposition. Services, essential to the survival of ordinary people and the middle class, such as public healthcare and education, are increasingly being brought under the influence of the market. There is no clear attempt to free passenger transport from the clutches of a rapacious private sector. The energy sector—oil and electricity supply—continues to be driven towards privatisation through fragmentation.

It is instructive here to note what Bhaskar Sunkara, Editor of Jacobin—the popular Left magazine published in New York that strongly backed Zohran Mamdani’s bid for Mayor—has to say on social infrastructures:

“Health care, education, transportation, energy, and telecommunication are not consumer goods but social infrastructures on which participation in modern life depends.

Organizing them through profit-seeking intermediaries that ration by price rather than need introduces predictable distortions. The result is a system that undermines both equality and efficiency. Decades of comparative experience suggest that public provision in these sectors can deliver better outcomes at lower social cost, precisely because it aligns provision with social need rather than purchasing power.” (‘We Need a Socialism After Capitalism,’ Jacobin, April 2026)

Serious damage to the natural environment and biodiversity continues under the current government. Deforestation, fragmentation of wildlife habitats, and human-wildlife conflicts have intensified. The release of protected lands to local and foreign private investors for so-called development, ignoring environmental impact assessments (for example, the Mannar wind farm projects), and the failure to stop illegal land acquisition and sand mining, which have undermined biodiversity, especially in the dry zone, are continuing.

The introduction of a biometric national identity card, funded by an Indian grant, in conjunction with the massive digitalisation programme, launched under the private sector operation, poses a serious risk of being used to unnecessarily restrict individual freedoms and to be used by the Sri Lankan government and foreign states to suppress citizens when necessary. Overall, it is clear from global experience that digitalisation, in the name of national security, is building a surveillance state. (To be continued)

by Kumudu Kusum Kumara

Continue Reading

Features

The illusion of foolproof identity: Are even biometrics under threat by AI?

Published

on

For quite a few decades,we have nonchalantly operated under a comforting and standard assumption that our bodies are our ultimate legal deeds. The features of every human body are quite unique. We have been taught that while passwords can be guessed, documents can be forged, and keys can be stolen, the biological architectures of our physical selves remain fundamentally unassailable and distinctly foolproof. Your face, your fingerprints, the unique landscape of your eye, are nature’s barcodes, forged from an intricate mix of genetics and intrauterine chance, utterly distinct to each of us among billions of people. This absolute distinctiveness made “biometrics”; automated methods used to recognise, authenticate, or identify individuals based on their unique biological and behavioural characteristics, the golden child of universally accepted global security. Amongst many other things, they are even trusted to unlock smartphones, provide access to sensitive portals, secure multi-billion-dollar wire transfers, cross international borders, and even safeguard top-secret military complexes.

Yet for all that, a profound and deeply unsettling shift is occurring, even beneath our own feet. The rapid acceleration of generative Artificial Intelligence (AI) and digital cloning technologies has begun to split open this relationship between biological reality and identity confirmation. Today, sophisticated software can replicate human voices with terrifying accuracy using mere seconds of feed-in audio, synthesise flawlessly lifelike videos of public figures saying things they never ever verbalised, and generate artificial fingerprints or facial configurations designed specifically to trick electronic gatekeepers. The comforting illusion that our bodily metrics are fool-proof is perhaps dissolving to quite a significant extent, casting a real-time shadow across the infrastructure of modern trust, even in everyday life.

Beyond the Fingerprint: The Expanding Universe of Identity

To understand the intricacies and depth of the current risks, one must look beyond the traditional hallmarks of identity verification. Perhaps the average person is clearly and deeply familiar with standard facial recognition, thumbprints, and the striking, complex rings of retinal imagery. Indeed, human biology offers an incredibly vast and nuanced spectrum of unique identifiers. Science and industry have quietly harnessed a long list of alternative indices to verify the identities and details of exactly who we are.

Consider iris recognition, which maps the intricate, visible coloured ring surrounding the pupil of the eye, or palmprint authentication, which tracks the expansive system of major lines, wrinkles, and minute ridges across the entire hand. Beyond these lie vascular biometrics, often referred to as vein pattern recognition, which uses near-infrared light to capture the unique layout of blood vessels seen beneath the skin of a finger or palm, a map completely invisible to the naked eye.

Furthermore, behavioural traits have proven just as distinct as anatomical ones. Voice biometrics analyses the physical anatomy of the vocal tract, nasal cavities, and vocal cords to isolate distinct sound frequencies. Gait analysis evaluates the precise, rhythmic mechanics of how an individual walks, tracking joint angles and weight distribution. Even keystroke dynamics, the precise cadence and rhythm with which you type on a keyboard, and ear acoustic geometry, which measures the unique way sound waves echo back out of your specific ear canal, have been successfully deployed to establish undeniable proof of identity.

The Pro Side: Unmatched Convenience and Safety

The historical arguments in favour of biometric systems remain incredibly compelling, which explains their near-ubiquitous adoption. First and foremost is the argument of unmatched convenience. Biometrics elegantly solve the “human error” factor inherent in traditional security appliances. You cannot lose your iris on a crowded train; you cannot accidentally leave your unique vein patterns at home; and you cannot forget the complex “password” of your facial geometry. It is an identity architecture that is permanently attached to the user, eliminating the friction of remembering combinations of symbols or carrying physical keys.

From a general, social and systemic perspective, biometrics have provided an unprecedented layer of objective truth. In criminal justice, fingerprint and DNA databases have exonerated the wrongfully accused, reunited missing children with families, and brought dangerous fugitives to justice based on definitive physical evidence rather than fickle, unreliable human memory. At international borders, automated biometric gates process millions of travellers daily with high efficiency, flagging authentic security threats while speeding up travel for the public. In the financial sector, a glance at a smartphone or a press of a thumb could prevent billions of dollars from being fraudulently stolen in identity theft and sham transactions every year by ensuring the actual account owner is physically present.

The Dark Side: When Your Body Becomes a Vulnerability

Despite these immense benefits, the reliance on biological markers has always harboured a fundamental flaw: the absolute permanence of the data. If a hacker steals your credit card number or a critical password, you can easily log online, cancel the account, and generate a completely new string of random characters. The breach is a nuisance, but it is entirely correctable and is fixable. However, if a malicious actor steals the high-resolution digital file containing your retinal map, your facial architecture, or your voice print, you cannot change your body. You cannot reset your eyes; you cannot easily forge a new set of fingers. Once a biometric signature is compromised, it is compromised for the rest of your life.

This permanence creates a highly centralised vulnerability. Biometric authentication systems do not store your actual finger or face; they store a mathematical digital template derived from them. These templates are housed inside vast corporate and government databases, and even universal digital portals. As cyberattacks grow increasingly sophisticated, these databases represent high-value targets for digital thieves. The terrifying consequence is that a single security breach at a major technology company or a government agency could permanently expose the personal physical keys of millions of citizens simultaneously.

The AI Shadow: Faking even the Unforgeable

This brings us to a profound paradigm shift driven by modern artificial intelligence. The traditional and abiding defence of biometrics was that physical traits could not be replicated in real-time. A photograph of a face could not trick a system looking for depth, and a recorded voice lacked the dynamic shifts of live speech. However…, surprise, SURPRISE…, AI has completely shattered these firmly held conventions and inferences.

Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs), a class of AI models in which two neural networks compete against each other, are now capable of analysing thousands of images or audio clips of an individual and creating a near-flawless synthetic clone. A clone refers to an exact copy, duplicate, or true genetic replica of another organism, cell, or object. The term applies across several fields and implies an absolutely identical real-life descriptor. Using these tools, fraudsters can create “deepfake” videos that mimic the precise micro-expressions, skin textures, and even the blink rates of a targeted executive, acclaimed scientist, an economist of global repute or even a political leader. In 2024, an employee at a multinational firm in Hong Kong was tricked into paying out 25 million dollars after attending a video conference call where every other participant was an AI-generated digital clone of his real-world colleagues.

Similarly, voice cloning has become a weaponised tool for financial scams. With less than ten seconds of audio scraped from a social media post, AI can synthesise a voice that is indistinguishable from a loved one or a bank official, perfectly matching the acoustic biometrics used by telephone banking systems. Even more alarming is the concept of “Master Prints”: the AI-generated, synthetic fingerprints that combine the most common ridge patterns found across the human population. Much like a master key that can open many different locks, these synthetic prints can trick biometric sensors up to 20% to 30% of the time, completely undermining the premise of absolute individuality.

Implications for the Future: Rebuilding Trust

The realisation that biometrics can be systematically manipulated has immense implications for the future of global society, law, and security. We are stepping into an era where we can no longer trust our eyes or ears to verify the identity of the person on the other side of a digital connection. This breakdown of trust threatens to disrupt not only financial institutions but also the very foundations of democratic systems, where synthetic video and audio can be deployed to frame individuals or fabricate digital evidence.

To survive this environment, the security industry must completely abandon the concept of the commonly used single-factor biometric authentication. The future will require a multi-layered approach. Biometrics will likely be coupled with behavioural signals that change dynamically over time, or physical tokens like cryptographic hardware keys. Furthermore, security developers are engaged in an intense arms race to create “deepfake detectors”; AI systems designed specifically to analyse incoming files for the microscopic digital artefacts left behind by generative software, verifying that a human face or voice is biologically real and is happening in real-time.

Legally and ethically, this shift demands robust new frameworks. Governments worldwide are beginning to recognise that our biological signatures require the same, if not greater, legal protections, as our financial assets. Laws must be strictly enforced to punish the unauthorised creation of digital clones and to compel corporations to encrypt biometric data using advanced, non-hackable methods.

A Balanced Path Forward

Ultimately, and even surprisingly, biometrics are neither a flawless saviour nor an inherent curse. They are powerful tools caught in the crossfire of an abiding technological evolution. They continue to offer unparalleled efficiency and security when implemented correctly. However, the dangerous myth of their absolute infallibility must be permanently laid to rest.

As artificial intelligence continues to blur the line between the real and the synthetic, our approach to identity must become as dynamic as the technology threatening it. We must stop viewing our physical bodies as unshakable passwords. True security in the modern age will not come from blindly trusting our biological uniqueness. It can only come from our collective vigilance, technological adaptation, and the implementation of robust, multi-layered digital defences that protect the sacred boundaries of who we really are.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
An independent free-lance correspondent.

Continue Reading

Features

Human-caused leopard deaths soar in Sri Lanka’s Central Highlands, new study warns

Published

on

Wire snares leading cause of leopard deaths

A groundbreaking international study, spanning 17 years, has revealed an alarming rise in human-caused deaths of the endangered Sri Lankan leopard, with the majority of fatalities concentrated in the tea estate landscapes of the Central Highlands.

The peer-reviewed study, titled “Human-Caused Leopard Deaths in Sri Lanka Are Concentrated in Central Highlands’ Estate Mosaics: Evidence From 17 Years of Mortality Records,” was recently published in the prestigious scientific journal Wiley’s Wildlife Letters.

The research team was led by conservation scientist Sanjaya Weerakkody and comprised a distinguished group of local and international researchers, including Vimukthi Gunasekara, Sethil Muhandiram, Try Surya Harapan, Kithmi R. Gunasekara, Bandini Jayasena, John B. Wilson, Prathiba M. Amugoda, Tharika de Silva, Chathuranga D. Hathurusinghe, Ahimsa Campos-Arceiz, and Enoka P. Kudavidanage.

The scientists represented a broad collaboration of institutions, including the Southeast Asia Biodiversity Research Institute of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, Yunnan Provincial Tropical Rainforest and Asian Elephant Conservation Innovation Team in China, LeopardCon Sri Lanka, Oklahoma State University in the United States, the Department of Natural Resources of Sabaragamuwa University of Sri Lanka, and the Tropical Ecosystems Research Network.

Speaking on the significance of the findings, researcher Sethil Muhandiram said the study provides the clearest picture yet of how human pressures are driving leopard mortality in Sri Lanka’s hill country landscapes.

“We found that plantation landscapes, especially tea estate mosaics in the Central Highlands, have become major hotspots for leopard deaths. Most concerning is the widespread use of wire snares, which continue to silently kill leopards and other wildlife,” Muhandiram said.

According to the findings, researchers analysed leopard mortality records from 2008 to 2024 and documented 164 human-caused deaths across the island, averaging nearly 10 deaths annually. More worryingly, the study found that leopard deaths have steadily increased over time, underscoring intensifying human-wildlife conflict in Sri Lanka.

The study identified wire snares as the leading cause of death, accounting for over 62 percent of cases where the cause was known. Many of these snares are believed to have been set for wild boar and other animals but ended up trapping leopards.

“Snaring is now one of the greatest threats facing the Sri Lankan leopard outside protected areas. Unless immediate action is taken to remove snares and strengthen enforcement, these deaths will continue to rise,” Muhandiram warned.

Plantation landscapes, especially tea estates in the Central Province, emerged as the most dangerous habitats for the country’s apex predator.

Researchers found that nearly 47 percent of all recorded leopard deaths occurred in the Central Highlands, while the Nuwara Eliya District alone accounted for 38.4 percent of fatalities, despite covering only a small portion of the leopard’s estimated range.

Researchers warned that the patchwork of tea estates, fragmented forests, villages, and agricultural lands has become a deadly landscape for leopards attempting to move between habitats.

The study also found that adult male leopards were disproportionately affected, a trend scientists caution could have serious implications for breeding populations and the long-term survival of the species.

Sri Lanka’s leopard, scientifically known as Panthera pardus kotiya, is an endemic subspecies found nowhere else in the world and is already listed as endangered.

Muhandiram stressed that conservation efforts must move beyond national parks and include estate landscapes where leopard-human interactions are increasing rapidly.

“Conservation cannot focus only on protected areas anymore. Leopards are surviving in human-dominated landscapes, and protecting them will require cooperation from estate communities, plantation companies, Wildlife authorities, and policymakers,” he said.

The study has further emphasised that leopard conservation in Sri Lanka can no longer focus solely on protected areas such as the Yala National Park, as significant leopard populations are increasingly surviving in estate and rural landscapes vulnerable to human pressures.

Researchers concluded that without immediate and coordinated action, Sri Lanka risks losing one of its most iconic and ecologically significant species to escalating human-induced threats.

By Ifham Nizam

Continue Reading

Trending