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Carlo Fonseka in Kataragama

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Prof. Carlo Fonseka

By Uditha Devapriya

“If the duration of contact is not long enough to sustain a burn, then you don’t get burnt. This is what Alice in Wonderland said: ‘Some people get burnt because they forgot the rule that if you hold a red-hot poker for very long, you will get burnt!’”

Carlo Fonseka, Check Mate with Chrismal Warnasuriya, 2012

Prof. Carlo Fonseka always had something to quote from Shakespeare. When I first met him in 2013, he quoted Mark Antony, and recalled that time in 1953, when he and his friends left a school cricket match to watch Joseph Mankiewicz’s version of Julius Caesar at the Savoy. The second time he quoted from Romeo and Juliet, and observed that, passionately attached as Juliet may have been to Romeo, she still insisted on marrying him. I think his point there was that, ultimately, biology triumphs over sentiment.

To quote Shakespeare to make a point about our primordial urges may have been a bit off-putting. But Fonseka spent the better part of his life, and his career, proving not the infallibility, but the ultimate knowability, the reliability, of science. This didn’t win him many friends. Yet it won him many admirers, even from among his critics.

Fonseka belonged to that generation of gentle, radical thinkers who made their mark in our universities in the 1960s. Having broken away from established religion, many of them cultivated a scientific if sophisticated attitude to Buddhism, an attitude that lay a world away from the more emotive world of the Sinhalese villager.

This was around the time that anthropologists, both local and Western, began studying the twin worlds of urban and rural Buddhism: a theme that did much to revive interest not just in Sri Lanka, but also Buddhism in general, across the world.

To say Fonseka took sides in this conflict, between rural and urban Buddhism, would be taking things too far. A brilliant product of the Ceylon Medical College and an even more brilliant product of the University of Edinburg, he specialised in Physiology. In 1967 he returned to Sri Lanka, then Ceylon, with a PhD. Ratnajeevan Hoole speculates that the “erosion of the university ethos” in the country eventually disillusioned him, causing him to abandon his work in physiology in favour of other pathways.

The rift between urban and rural Buddhism – as posited by social scientists in his time – may have been what encouraged him to explore some of the more popular rites and beliefs in Sinhala society. At least two of those rites took him to Kataragama: hook-hanging and firewalking. Consuming pork and liquor, breaking every taboo in the book, he proved that physiology could explain both, in a way devotion could not.

In debunking these rituals, Fonseka risked a torrential backlash. Yet that backlash never really materialised. There are several possible reasons for this. Prime among them would be the time he worked in: a time when everything could be questioned in a spirit of free, critical inquiry, when a healthy culture of scepticism pervaded our intelligentsia.

A more tenable reason, in my view, would be the kind of audience that saw him at work in places like Kataragama. They were largely, though not only, urban and suburban. Buddhist though they were, by the 1960s they had imbibed the intellectual, philosophical, and scientific, view of Buddhism which Fonseka reinforced. Yet at the same time, they were also highly respectful of the myths and rituals of popular Buddhism.

As Gananath Obeyesekere and Richard Gombrich have pointed out, though there is a line that can be drawn between rural and urban Buddhism in Sri Lanka, there is also a permeation of popular religious beliefs in the most cosmopolitan setting. Thus the most avowed rationalist can capitulate to the most ritualistic visions of his faith, as seen in the almost rush for amisa and aloka puja in every nook and corner of Colombo.

I am not an expert on Buddhism, still less on its practice in Sri Lanka, to take this discussion forward. I can only speculate that such a mishmash of popular and intellectual attitudes generated an almost Janus-faced response to Fonseka’s work. Thus, on the one hand, there was a fairly mainstream acceptance of his efforts. On the other hand, there was also a critique of what these efforts meant in the broader context of Sinhalese and Buddhist culture. Perhaps the best example of these contradictory responses came from a devotee of Kataragama, a friend who was residing in Colombo.

Of course the soles of your feet are strong enough to withstand live coals for a few seconds. He had his arguments, and they were fairly convincing. But…

A more intriguing response came from another devotee who shuttles between Kataragama and Colombo.

I won’t argue with his views. But I don’t have to prove my beliefs to anyone.

In the first instance, one discerns a reluctant acknowledgement of the validity of what Fonseka was doing (“But…”). In the second, one notices a pushback (“I have my beliefs, he had his, why should I be the one to prove mine to him?”). The reactions are palpably different: the first person displayed a sheepishness at odds with his fierce attachment to rituals, while the second was visibly irritated, almost unwilling to talk.

In both responses there is some form of admission of the truth of Fonseka’s work. I would argue, though I stand to be corrected, that these responses have been shaped by the contradictory world of urban Buddhists: they are, in essence, accepting of the myth and the myth-busting. The situation is the same in villages, which have been penetrated by the forces of modernity, development, and urbanisation. But the response there is somewhat different. A friend of mine put that in perspective the other day.

A typical urban Buddhist would offer flowers, chant pirith, and still adhere to a scientific view of Buddhism. A typical rural Buddhist would put more emotional power into his rites and ceremonies, he would be disdainful of scientific explanations.

There is very little of this sort of rural Buddhism in Sri Lanka. But I have been to some of these regions and places, and have been astounded by the attitudes I have encountered. The more urbanised villagers I have met have mostly been tolerant but sceptical of rationalist explanations of rituals. Their attitude is closer to that of the second respondent: they are respectful of other viewpoints, but don’t feel obliged to justify theirs. Indeed, often they go beyond this logic by explicitly questioning scientific reason itself.

It’s strange that that we try to prove something and then believe it’s right for all time. Look at gravitational theory, look at Newtonian physics!

We are so sure gods don’t exist, how can we be sure oxygen does?

These are not, as some would be wont to say, ramblings of unsophisticated and ignorant villagers. They reflect a particular viewpoint and worldview, a way of perceiving and responding to the environment around us. Their scepticism of scientific rationality is, in that sense, no different to our scepticism of religious belief.

At the risk of drawing too fine a line between urban and rural Buddhists here, I would say that the tendency among the former, with regard to the sort of myth-busting that Fonseka engaged in, is to accept the rationalist explanation for popular rituals while still taking part in them. The tendency among the latter is dismiss such explanations while questioning the scientific viewpoint. There is still some acknowledgement of the validity of science in Sinhala villages. Yet that is tempered by their attachment to popular beliefs.

Perhaps the easiest way of defining these divisions would be to adopt the Jathika Chintanite dichotomy of Sinhala and Olcott Buddhists. But even this is inadequate. The forebearers of Jathika Chintanaya share the same intellectual lineage as Carlo Fonseka. That they chose to reject this lineage eventually, as I contended months ago, in no way undermines the fact that they hailed from it, and in many ways still subscribe to it.

We must hence look elsewhere when examining the many, paradoxical responses that Sri Lankans have offered with regard to the work of people like Carlo Fonseka: work that, for all the criticisms of it we can bandy about, remains highly important.

Uditha Devapriya is a writer, researcher, and analyst based in Sri Lanka who contributes to a number of publications on topics such as history, art and culture, politics, and foreign policy. He can be reached at .



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‘There are no private universities in Sri Lanka’ – some considerations for higher education reform

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Academics involved in education policy like to say that there is no such thing as a private university in Sri Lanka. The only ‘universities’ in the country are state universities; anything else offering degrees is a private higher education institution (HEI). This position is technically accurate. Yet, in the discourse and imagination of the public, private universities are very real – people teach in them, students register in them, families pay fees, and such degree holders enter job markets in Sri Lanka and outside.

For decades, activists concerned for public higher education have ignored or resisted looking at private HEIs, as if such scrutiny would taint them. Others have worked in both types of institutions, carrying practices from each to the other. The apex body governing state universities, the UGC, has, meanwhile, ignored the concept of conflict of interest and appointed individuals in private higher education in committees and leadership positions. It is unsurprising then that some of the ideologies informing private higher education appear in reform agendas in the state sector.

This is a good time then to consider the varying types of private HEIs around us, and to take a look at some of the issues within them in the hope that higher education reform agendas will include private, as well as state higher education.

What is a ‘private university’?

First, some clarifications. In the public imaginary, a ‘private university’ is typically an institution that provides a foreign or local degree for which the student makes a payment. But this broad classification encompasses a host of diverse institutions and types of degrees which I detail below.

The Non-State Higher Education Division (NSHE) of the Ministry of Education has recognised 295 degrees by 32 institutions. Most of these are private companies and include a handful of established, well-known private HEIs that are ‘university like’. The degrees are local degrees conferred by the institutions accredited by the NSHE Division. While private HEIs conferring local degrees must be accredited by the NSHE Division, there appears to be no legal consequence for not doing so. In addition, there are several permutations of the private degree that miss the net of this Division and the Standing Committee on Accreditation and Quality Assurance (SCAQA) that assists this Division.

For one, degrees conferred by foreign universities offered, via these same private HEIs, are not vetted by the NSHE Division. Secondly, there is a growing plethora of private HEIs which have either no physical presence locally or only a dubious presence. The University Grants Commission has notified the public, through their website, that foreign universities listed in the Commonwealth Universities Yearbook and the World Higher Education Database are recognised, but refrained from giving any other details – which degrees? Offered by what modes? These details are not known. Some of the foreign universities in the lists may be legitimate entities in their own land but the degrees conferred locally, in their name, may not adhere to curriculum or teaching specifications of the NSHE Division or the UGC.

Another troubling phenomenon is the ‘top up degree’, which appears to work on the same principle as that of a pre-paid mobile connection: if I have a Diploma or an HND of a sort, I am eligible to complete a course of study which provides me with a degree, usually from a foreign university. The idea that someone who does not initially qualify for a degree programme should be able to work their way towards one is a progressive notion. This is the concept that open and distance learning (ODL) was based on initially, but which is now sadly exploited. ODL models are expected to provide opportunity for learning for those who may be excluded from traditional learning institutions. In Sri Lanka, however, we have seen ODL become a marketplace offering easy to obtain, for-fee qualifications by institutions with little commitment to superior teaching and learning.

Finally, a perusal of the many types of private HEIs and their varied degrees bring to mind another question – how should the private degrees, provided by state institutions (that are not educational institutions), be regulated? Who should do so?

All of these create a host of problems for the public – for hopeful students and parents and trusting employers. For the higher education sector, recruitment of academic staff, too, has become difficult due to this plethora of ambiguous higher education qualifications, as I discussed in a previous Kuppi article (‘Recruiting academics to state universities’).

Some issues in private HEIs – a bellwether for change in state universities

In this second part of this article, I will discuss some aspects of work in private HEIs – albeit the more established institutions – given that such issues may appear in reform agendas in future.

Across state universities, all permanent staff of a specific category are paid according to the same criteria. The picture is not so clear when it comes to private HEIs since they are different entities legally, typically companies. Private HEIs have salary scales and financial incentives that are different to each other. The more established private HEIs reportedly have attractive renumeration packages, possibly a reason for academics of state universities migrating eagerly to such institutions during sabbatical years and on retirement. This may not of course be the case with other less established, or improperly registered HEIs of which we know little. Academic staff of these more accepted private HEIs seem to value the high financial remuneration they receive (in comparison to state universities) as something that makes their work rewarding.

Attractive remuneration is important to sustain the good life and is at times seen as the institution’s way of encouraging good work. Yet, this has implications for the future of the institution: to continue to deliver on promised financial packages, institutions must continue to have large profit margins. One strategy has been to enroll multiple cohorts of students per year, even up to three or four intakes per year. This can result in exploitative work conditions, since staff must cater to all these cohorts in that same year. If there is inadequate staff, employees are further burdened. On the other hand, if there is a sudden drop in enrolments (degrees can go out of fashion) unexpected layoffs occur. Similar to other sectors that employ short-term contract staff – including state universities – in private HEIs, too, individual teachers, who are on short term contracts that need regular renewal, can feel pressured to work under difficult or exploitative conditions.

At the same time, even in the more established private HEIs, work norms differ from those of state universities in that they include promotional work that keeps the institution’s name in the eye of the public. The Marketing (or similarly named) unit comes up in conversations as one of the most important departments. It appears to weigh in on decision-making related to the number of staff, the amount of re-sits per exams, and other pedagogically important matters. This is a worrying example of how financial rationales interfere with pedagogically or academically sound processes, resulting in problematic results in the classroom. On the plus side, junior colleagues, who had experience in both state and private HEIs, also felt that they faced less harassment in private HEIs – primarily due to the private HEIs ability to take swift action in reported cases of harassment. This is a real indictment on state institutions and their reluctance to address chronic issues of harassment in our universities.

Yet, while we hear much about problems in state universities, we hardly hear of problems that staff in private HEIs face. One rationale for a lack of public expressions by staff is that expressions of discontent might lead to trouble given the importance of reputation for private HEIs. The worry about reputational damage is a growing concern in state universities, too, as evidenced by social media policies and internal conversations on reputational damage, consequent to negative publicity. Institutional worries of reputational damage are harmful in the long run since these impact not only freedom of expression by student and staff, but also research that is possible in and about the education sector.

Some thoughts at the end…


A close look at the private higher education sector is important given its strong presence in the country. Impending reform needs to regulate this diverse array of higher education offerings in the private sector, as well as the state institutions that offer privately-funded options of higher education (a topic for a separate Kuppi on its own). It is time we carefully considered how to build a whole system of higher education out of this broken mess.

Kaushalya Perera is a senior lecturer at the University of Colombo.

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

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Ready for solo spotlight

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Nish Peiris: Excited about future plans

Singer Nish Peiris is set to take the next big step in her music journey.

The talented vocalist, who has been seen and heard in the scene here for a short while, and was also featured with the now-defunct band, Inner Vision, has announced that she will be fully committing to her solo career, after completing her degree this year.

“I’m finishing my degree this year, and after that I’ll be fully committing to my solo music career,” Nish told The Island.

“I’ve already got a few tours lined up for next year, so I’m really excited for what’s ahead.”

Fans, no doubt, will remember Nish for her smooth voice and stage presence, and the good news is that she is now ready to chart her own path and bring new music to audiences at home and abroad.

With tours already planned for 2027, the year 2026 promises to be an exciting year for the young artiste as she steps into the spotlight on her own.

We wish Nish every success in this new chapter!

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Exclusive musical evening for Sri Lankans in Toronto

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Toronto Ceymphony Live Band, with Sri Lankans doing the needful

While Sri Lankan music lovers, in Dubai, are eagerly looking forward to being a part of the action on Saturday, 25th July, with Rajiv Sebastian in the limelight, Sri Lankans, in Toronto, Canada, are equally excited and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of Sri Lanka’s famous singer/entertainer Sohan Weerasinghe.

Having done the needful with The X-Periments, the legendary performer has now embarked on an exciting new chapter – a solo career – and Toronto, Canada, will see him do the needful, on Friday, 31st July, 2026, from 8.00 pm to 12.00 am, at the Angus Glen Golf Club.

Sohan Weerasinghe: In Canada, and ready to do the needful on 31st July

Reports indicate that it’s a ‘sold out’ event – naturally with Sohan in the spotlight.

Gamini Hemalal: Creating all the excitement for Sri Lankans in Toronto

Having built his reputation through years of unforgettable performances, and hits that became part of our musical fabric, Sohan is ready to bring his own vision, sound, and stories directly to the audience, in Toronto, Canada, backed by the phenomenal Toronto Ceymphony Live Band.

Says Gamini Hemalal, who has been instrumental in reviving the Sri Lankan entertainment scene, in that part of the world:

“The countdown begins for the most exclusive musical event of the summer! Join us for a premium night of incredible music, elite hospitality, and a lavish buffet as the legendary Sohan Weerasinghe takes the stage live in Toronto!

“This is a high-end event, designed for those who appreciate exceptional entertainment and great food.”

Gamini, who is also a member of the Toronto Ceymphony Live Band, mentioned that it’s going to be an intimate musical evening with the celebrated Sohan Weerasinghe.

From packed auditoriums to intimate shows, Sohan continues to prove why he remains one of Sri Lanka’s most beloved entertainers.

For decades, Sohan Weerasinghe has been a household name in Sri Lankan entertainment.

Known for his captivating smooth voice and charismatic stage presence, Canada will experience it all on Friday, 31st July.

Next on the list of events, Gamini Hemal is working on, is Halloween night and he says “what we plan to do will be very interesting and unique … with a surprise guest star, as well!”

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