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Dudley Senanayake (1911-1973): The gentle knight of Ceylon politics

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Mr Dudley Senanayake as Prime Minister on a visit to Jaffna. Together with him is G.G. Ponnambalam, Mr M. Tiruchelvam and Mr M. Sivasithamparam

(Excerpted from Selected Journalism by HAJ Hulugalle)

“He was a verray parfit gentil knight”, in the words of the fourteenth century English poet Geoffrey Chaucer. Dudley Senananyake was a Minister at the age of 36 and four times Prime Minister. He won the respect and affection of millions, many of whom had never seen him, or know him only from his picture in a public print or a displayed poster.

Although he was a wise statesman and an experienced politician, there is something else which comes uppermost to the minds of those who pause to recall his public career of 38 years. I was working in my small garden after I had heard the news of his death. An elderly woman was plucking some jasmine flowers from a creeper in the fence. She too had heard the news and turning to me, said: “Such is our existence on this earth. Even the Lord Buddha had to die.”

It was a spontaneous reaction. She did not feel that there was any profanity in the comparison. The affection she showed for someone she could not have known, as if he had been her own son, will be shared by everyone who can value a man as a human being, forgetting all the trappings of authority, position and power.

The shock of Dudley’s death cannot but generate an upsurge of sentiment in every part of the country. It is easy to give way to adulation on such an. occasion. But there is no need for it when the facts can speak for themselves. The worst that can be said about him is that, while being a politician, he had no craving to wield power, to impose his will and to regard himself as the man of destiny. He had other values, and he was content to do what he thought was his duty.

The reluctant tribute of a journalist friend of mine, who usually opposed Dudley’s politics, was couched in these words: “The disciplined intellectual virtues of justice of heart and mind, the proud shyness that comes of high mental attainments, and the sensitive dignity the results of exceedingly good breeding, in themselves are great qualities devoutly to be wished”.

I was editor of the “Ceylon Daily News” when Dudley entered the State Council in 1935 and during almost 13 years of his public career thereafter. I had no occasion to ask him any favours nor to grant him any. When he was appointed a Minister in D.S. Senanayake’s first Cabinet in 1947 I felt that there might be an element of nepotism about it.

Without reference to D.R. Wijewardene, who was of course a close friend of D.S. Senanayake, I printed in the newspaper a letter criticizing the appointment. The letter touched a sensitive spot in the Prime Minister. I shall allow J.L. Fernando to tell what happened as recorded in his book “Three Prime Ministers of Ceylon”:

“There was no doubt that one reason which impelled Prime Minister D.S. Senanayake to appoint Dudley Senanayake, Minister of Agriculture in Ceylon’s first Cabinet, was his belief that he could continue to keep an eye on the Dry Zone colonization schemes if his own son presided over the Ministry in charge of them.

“There was some public criticism of the appointment of Dudley Senanayake, the son, to the Cabinet by the father. One morning when I returned home after my daily walk I heard that D.S. Senanayake had left a telephoned message to call him back to his home, Woodlands, Kanatte.

“When I called him I was quite embarrassed by his comments on a letter in the “Ceylon Daily News” of that morning, criticizing the report of the news that Dudley Senanayake might be appointed to the Cabinet. “Must I keep him out of the Cabinet because he is my son?” growled D.S. Senanayake, picking on me though he could have as easily telephoned his friend, D.R. Wijewardene, or H.A.J. Hulugalle, then the editor of the “Ceylon Daily News”.

“I remember mumbling my ignorance regarding the letter which I had myself seen before I left on my morning walk. Some days later I recall his explaining to me the reasons for appointing Dudley Senanayake to that particular Ministry. Whatever the reasons, there is no doubt that Dudley Senanayake’s record in that Ministry fully justified his appointment”.

A more impartial historian, Professor S.A. Pakeman, in his book entitled “Ceylon” makes the following comment:

“It was freely said at the time that he (D.S.) wanted to run the Ministry of Agriculture, and that he had therefore appointed his son to that office. Events, however, were to show that Dudley Senanayake was quite capable of taking his own line, and in fact he proved a capable Minister of Agriculture. His father had, of course, during his ministry, laid down the lines on which this, the most essential ministry, except that of Finance, should proceed. But the son did not hesitate to make changes and developments where he thought them desirable”.

It did not take me long to realize that I had been mistaken.

When D.S. Senanayake died in March 1952, maneuvering for (the succession) had already got under way in the reception hall of the Central Hospital. I was then in charge of Government information and moved among Members of Parliament assembled there. I could see how, on the initiative of MP’s like Eddie Nugawela and Noel Gratiaen, opinion was swaying in favour of Dudley, who was himself quite unconcerned. Had S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike not left the party in 1951 he would have had Dudley’s support for the Premiership.

Lord Soulbury, who was the Governor – General at the time, told a friend later that he had had a talk with D.S. Senanayake before his last illness about who should succeed him if he was suddenly disabled. The elder Senanayake was not prepared to make a nomination, or suggest names, but said that he would not be surprised if the majority in the cabinet and among back-benchers favour a summons to Dudley should the occasion arise.

Dudley did not seem to have the necessary steel in his make-up to ride the storm and make a success of his first Premiership. His, in some respects, was a complex character. He had had it easy as the son of his over-powering father. A political career was open to him for the asking. Nothing brings out a man’s grit as hardship, opposition and slender means.

To one who did not know him intimately, the absence of a partner who could have given him a happy life, look after his health and spur him to ambitious deeds seemed to be a serious handicap, if not a tragedy in Dudley’s life. Verily, these things are on the knees of the gods, and it is not for mere mortals to regret what they decree.

The first set-back was, however, not the end of the story. Dudley came back to the leadership after a brief sojourn in the wilderness and during the years from 1965 to 1970 he was again in command. He was always a leader even without the gnawing desire to lead. The diffidence to wield power may be a weakness in a politician but it is an acknowledgment of qualities which transcend pure partisanship. There was nothing which his colleagues and subordinates were not prepared to do at his bidding without any expectation of reward or recognition.

He was not a leader by virtue of his being the son of a great man. He was no rubber-stamp of his parent. He was a leader from his schooldays, a captain whom others were glad to follow. Boys have a sound instinct in these matters. Indeed he embodied in his life the best characteristics of the schools which produced most of the country’s leaders and continue to do so even today. Every Thomian, past and present, was proud of him.

But political craftiness is again something else. Dudley was short on it. Of few men in our public life could the words of Abraham Lincoln be more justly used: “With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in.”

He met with Triumph and Disaster and treated those two impostors just the same. He accepted the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in politics with a philosophic mind. This is not to say that he was not a fighter. His combative qualities asserted themselves when occasion demanded, especially in defeat.

What redeemed his politics from being a. form of sport with which he was all too familiar was his compassion. The quality of compassion was probably what appealed to him most in his Buddhist faith. He felt deeply for the poor and, in his travels around the country, he knew all about the debilitating and degenerating effects of grinding poverty.

Dudley had too soft a heart to be a forceful politician or a ruthless administrator. Nothing gave him more pleasure that to help a lame dog over a stile. His culture was what Matthew Arnold called “the passion for sweetness and light, and (what is more) the passion for making them prevail”. A short time before he passed away he turned to a nephew who stood by him and said that he was happy he had been able to do in his life much of what he had wished to do.The country has lost a beloved leader. For years to come, it will retain the memory of a noble, unselfish and kindly human Politician who did not crave for power.

(This article first appeared in the Ceylon Daily News of April 16, 1973)



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Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka

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World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future

by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?

These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.

World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.

We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.

Making more of what we already have

Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.

Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.

The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.

Stop wasting the food we produce

Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.

Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.

Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.

Nutrition and food safety come first

Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.

Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.

Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.

A food system that can cope with climate change

Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.

Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.

Give young people a bigger role

Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.

A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.

A pathway designed for Sri Lanka

We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.

The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.

The choices we make today

The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.

So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?

The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.

A better food future begins with the choices we make today.

Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna

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20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried

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Aftermath of the terror attack

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.

It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.

By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.

I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.

When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.

The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.

The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.

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‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

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Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24

I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.

The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.

The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.

After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.

Clark

The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.

Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.

Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.

He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.

Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.

Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.

Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.

Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.

So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.

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