Features

Early employment and the move to Colombo

Published

1 year ago

2025/06/22

CHAPTER 6

The 1920s in Sri Lanka was a period of excitement and change. Politically there was significant movement after many decades of stagnation… [S]ocially… there were breaches in traditional hierarchies and practices. Some… who in earlier times had little say in society for class and caste reasons, achieved high status positions… and middleclass women shocked the orthodox.

(de Alwis & Jayawardena, 2001, pp.1 & 5)

An Uncertain Future

After leaving St. Aloysius’, NU seemed to be uncertain about his future, and initially applied for a job as a teacher:

When I was 16, in 1924, I did not know what to do and I thought the best thing would be to teach. My father had come at this time to Tangalle, which is our ancestral home. I stayed with my parents after leaving school and I decided to apply for a teaching post at the same school [St. Mary’s] in which I had my education. (interview by Manel Abhayaratne)

NU’s application was accepted and he was hired. However, since NU was underage, he could not be registered and his salary was paid out of the principal’s own pocket. NU stayed with his uncle who was working in the Hambantota Kachcheri. NU still did not give up his desire to study:

I wanted to pursue my studies but I wanted to do it by studying by myself. There was a series of books advertised by a London tutorial college and I decided to get them down and study to further my qualifications. (ibid)

According to NU, his father was anxious that he join the public service and follow in the footsteps of his uncle (who was later appointed Kachcheri Mudaliyar of the Hambantota Kachcheri); and it

was due to his father’s persuasion that he applied for the post of clerk in the District Roads Committee (DRC). NU further explained the events leading to his entry into the clerical service:

Mr. Frank Leach, Assistant Government Agent, had set the qualifying papers. We all handed over the papers and went back. About a month later I learned that I had answered the papers very well and had got pass marks, but pressure had been brought on the Assistant Government Agent, to recommend someone else who was a relation of the then Mudaliyar. (ibid)

The final decision, however, rested with the Government Agent himself, Mr. Millington, who insisted that the man who had obtained the best results in the examination, NU, should be appointed

to the DRC at a salary of Rs. 27.50 a month. Incidentally, this salary was significantly less than the Rs. 40 he received when teaching at St. Mary’s.

This was perhaps the first occasion when NU came face to face with social realities and favouritism in the system, which could on occasion ignore merit and reward social position. Thus began NU’s

career, which was to take him first, up and down the Southern Province in various posts, and finally, to join the Ruhuna diaspora in Colombo. The District Roads Committee was set up in 1862 to oversee the construction and maintenance of minor roads. It was funded with one third of the money collected from the Road Tax. Committees were set up in each district, and each consisted of the Government Agent or Assistant Government Agent of the district and the District Engineer, along with three other elected members from the European, Burgher or other ‘native’ communities. Significantly, the DRC was the first local body to follow the elective principle (Saparamadu, in Woolf, 1962, p.1xiii-iv).

Back to School

As mentioned above, NU was not particularly interested in applying for the job at the DRC and did so only at his father’s insistence. He soon tired of this minor post, and against his father’s wishes took up a teaching position at his old school, St. Servatius’ College, Matara. NU lodged at the school catechist’s home in the Fort, Matara – as he had done earlier when a student there. He coached the catechist’s son and, to please his father, prepared both for the Clerical Service and Matriculation examinations.

NU soon moved on from St. Servatius’ when a job opportunity opened up at the leading Buddhist boys’ school in the Southern Province – Mahinda College, Galle. To reach the school, NU had to

again travel daily by train, and as in the past, he continued to use the train and the station waiting room as his ‘study.’ He had to take the early train to reach Galle from Matara, and for the return journey:

“He would reach Matara station in the dark, settle down in the Third-Class waiting room and study by the dim light from the oil lamp which hung down from a beam in the room” (de Zoysa manuscript, p.59).

NU also studied while ‘on the move,’ as an amusing anecdote related by Lucien de Zoysa shows: “he used to read while walking after school, creating a stir among those walking on the [Matara]

ramparts when they saw a young man oblivious of all and everything except the open book in his hand.” As de Zoysa notes: “reading… [and] studying… [were] more than second nature to him. It was all of him and he spent every moment he could, studying for both the Matriculation and Clerical Service examinations” (de Zoysa manuscript, pp.57-58).The principal of Mahinda at that time was P.R. Gunasekara, who had succeeded the earlier distinguished foreign principals.

The school, founded by the Buddhist Theosophical Society, was initially funded by Thomas de Silva Amarasuriya and his son Henry Woodward Amarasuriya, both important plantation-owners, businessmen and liquor merchants from the Southern Province. In Mahinda College two tendencies prevailed, namely, dedication to Buddhist causes and local history and culture, along with a modern education in English. Two foreign principals of the school had also set the tone for liberal political awareness. The first was the Theosophist F.L. Woodward, an Oxford-educated Pali scholar who had translated

sections of the Pali Canon, and who was closely associated with Colonel Olcott. He was the founding Principal of the College, serving from 1903 to 1919. The second, Gordon Pearce who served as Woodward’s Vice-Principal, was also a Theosophist and British Labour Party supporter, who became Principal in 1921.

In contrast to Christian schools, Buddhist schools such as Mahinda College encouraged a national awareness and exposed students to Indian nationalism. In 1922 visitors to the school included persons linked to the Indian independence movement, such as Rabindranath Tagore, Sarojini Naidu, Rev. C.H. Andrews (a British supporter of Gandhi), and Annie Besant, a leading Theosophist and advocate of Indian Home Rule. Significantly, the sessions of the Ceylon National Congress were held at Mahinda College in 1926; and at the 1927 prize-giving, Mahatma Gandhi was the chief guest:

“The Olcott Hall was filled to capacity. Never was there such a large gathering of Buddhists, Hindus and Christians to pay homage”

(Norah Roberts, 1993, pp.154 & 156).

NU may have been present at some of these historic events. In his student days, NU had moved from Hambantota to Matara and then to Galle. The process was reversed after he passed his Senior

Cambridge and began his career, when he first moved back to Hambantota, then to Matara and Galle. There was thus some mobility in NU’s life at this stage, with his progression from school to school and job to job, although limited to the Southern Province.

In the process, both at St. Aloysius’ and Mahinda College, NU was fortunate to have interacted with excellent teachers. They were men of dedication and generosity, some famous scholars, some politically committed to an anti-colonial agenda.

Early Days in Colombo

In 1926, NU also passed the London Matriculation (in the First Division) as a private student, passing in Mathematics, which he had failed at the Senior Cambridge. Another important event in

his life was his success at the General Clerical Services Examination in 1926, followed by his posting to the Public Works Department (PWD) in Colombo as a Class 2 clerk on a monthly salary of Rs.75. Getting into the Class 2 category was a significant advance from which NU never looked back. His father was so pleased he gave NU a 50-rupee note. According to family folklore, NU looked at it and pointed to the note’s signature of W.W. Woods, the Colonial Secretary, and asked,

“Why can’t I sign a note like this?” – thereby provoking much amusement in his family.

The PWD, formed in 1867, consisting of a director and provincial engineers, was responsible for construction and maintenance of government-constructed buildings, roads, ferries, and resthouses

(Woolf, 1962, p.lxxi). Until the early 1930s, the top administrators and executives, who ran the various government departments, were almost exclusively British; while the essential routine work in the office was handled by local clerks who were hierarchically just above peons (now called ‘minor employees’), performing the lowliest work in the offices. As noted earlier, to become a clerk in the government service was the main ambition of most young men whose parents were neither professionals, wealthy businessmen nor large landowners. NU, when he passed his clerical examination, had achieved the aspirations of many families from his background, namely to have a family member in the prestigious government service, which would elevate the family’s social standing.

NU had been to Colombo only twice before, to sit examinations, staying in one of Maradana’s cheap lodging-houses for young workingmen, known as ‘chummeries.’ On his move to Colombo as a clerk in the Public Works Department, he worked at its head office in the Fort, and lived in a ‘boarding house’ on Forbes Lane in Maradana, run by Dickman de Mel. The transport between Maradana and Fort was by tramway or train.

NU gave tuition to de Mel’s nephews in exchange for lodging – a similar arrangement to what he had done when he stayed with the St. Servatius’ catechist. Released from paying for his lodgings in Colombo, NU was able to bring his youngest brother Peter to Colombo. NU, who held thwarted ambitions to be a doctor, was keen to see his brother enter the medical profession. Peter stayed at the boarding house, with NU paying his fees and enrolling him in the leading Catholic school, St. Joseph’s College, just near Forbes Lane. Later, Peter Jayawardena, benefiting from the education he received, entered the Medical College, later becoming a well-known gynaecologist and obstetrician.

In Sri Lanka, supporting family members has long been a tradition. It is expected and even taken for granted that family members, including those from the extended family, would assist and support each other – especially to help brighter children pursue their studies.

NU’s strong family ties and his willingness to assist his relations were evident at all times. NU, who himself continued to benefit from such family support in later years, managed, with assistance from his future father-in-law, Norman Wickramasinghe, to get his brother David a job in the Government Stores. NU also helped arrange marriages for his younger sisters and was always present at family weddings, often being the attesting witness for his nieces and nephews on such occasions. This was all part of the close family network. NU’s success in entering the clerical service enabled him to move

from minor jobs in the Southern Province, to the capital city. ‘Go West, Young Man!’ was a popular US slogan for ambitious settlers moving westwards to California in the 19th century. In Sri Lanka, in the early 20th century, ‘Go West’ meant moving to the Western Province – and to the city of Colombo.

Public Works Department

Colombo in the Late 1920s

There had been a rapid population growth in Colombo, which in 1911 had more than 200,000 inhabitants, an increase of 30% since 1901. Urbanization was fast occurring, with a drift from the countryside to the towns. Though the transfer was not large enough to alter the demographic balance, and the country remained overwhelmingly rural, urban centres expanded considerably. In the economy, these were years of boom in the mid-1920s, then a severe economic depression in the early 1930s. One important development of this period was the expanded infrastructure of roads, railways and port facilities, along with banks, shops, offices and government departments, typical of a colonial economy. This meant employing increasing numbers of manual workers and government servants at all levels, many of them – like NU – originally from the outlying provinces.

The move from Galle to Colombo would have been somewhat daunting for NU, as he was now very far from home, no longer within the secure confines of his family and relatives. At the same time, he would have felt a measure of excitement and expectation at being in the political and commercial capital of the island, where the local elite and the colonial establishment lived and worked, patronizing its restaurants, clubs and hotels. The city of Galle for all its charm could not be compared to the economic and social activity, excitement and bright lights of Colombo. From 1926 to 1929, NU eked out a living in Colombo as a clerk, living frugally in a poor neighbourhood, but observing the activities and life of the city in the heyday of the island’s economic prosperity of the 1920s. This period of NU’s residence in Colombo, however, was also an era of political and social change alongside emerging movements of dissent.

Politics in the 1920s

Politically there had been very little change before the 1920s. The legislature up to 1911 continued to be composed of European ‘officials’ and a few others known as ‘unofficials’ appointed by the Governor to represent the different local ethnic communities and business interests. A nationalist ferment was lacking, as radical political dissent and activism had subsided after the Rebellion of 1848. In 1864, however, a few Members of the Legislative Council, notably Charles Lorenz (whose family was from Matara), had led a vote of ‘unofficials’ against the government and subsequently walked out of the legislature. This group started the Ceylon League, to campaign

First Letter of Appointment as a clerk in the Public Works Department

for political reform.

While there was no mass-based political agitation in the 19^th century, some moderate political reform of the constitution was demanded by the emerging local political leaders. In 1919 the Ceylon National Congress was formed, with Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam as President, to press for more representation, wider franchise rights and an elected legislature. Under the Manning Reforms granted in 1920, a Legislative Council was established with elections on a limited (4%) male franchise. But although some further reforms were demanded, there was no agitation comparable to the militant nationalism that developed in India in the 1920s.

The nature of the local opposition to colonialism reflected a certain economic weakness. Local capitalism was based on accumulation in plantations, the liquor trade and graphite mining – areas where there were few confrontations with colonial interests. In contrast to India, there was no major clash with colonialism in the market place – the ‘school’ where, it is said, a bourgeoisie learns its nationalism. Although national feeling was not militant, communal tensions based on economic considerations arose. There was some criticism of the influence of Indian merchants, South Indian Chettiar moneylenders and other non-Sinhala traders, who by their extraterritorial

interests or economic domination, were seen as a threat to the Sinhala trader. Competition for the limited number of jobs in government service also led to some tension between Sinhalese and

Tamils in the public sector.

But dissent grew and there were some social upheavals. Members of many ‘lower’ castes entered politics and emerged as radical labour leaders, to the consternation of those belonging to ‘higher’ castes. Women also created a stir by agitating for the right to vote – led by the Women’s Franchise Union, formed in 1927. Universal suffrage – including votes for women – was obtained in 1931, and by 1932 there were two women in the legislature. The ‘new women’ of the period shocked traditional society.

They began to participate in politics, making demands for women’s franchise, and caused a sensation by driving cars, riding bicycles, wearing short skirts, bobbing their hair, socializing and dancing with men in public. They also entered University College, and moved into new avenues of employment, including the medical and legal professions (de Alwis & Jayawardena, 2001, p.5).

There was other excitement too. When NU came to Colombo in the mid-1920s, the Ceylon Labour Union led by A.E. Goonesinha was at the height of its popularity among Colombo’s workers.

A general strike in the government and private sectors had occurred in 1923, followed by militant strikes in the Colombo port (1927), tramways (1929), and numerous other places of work. The tramway strike was particularly aggressive, resulting in violence and the setting on fire of the Maradana police station, which led to a police shooting and five deaths. NU, whose lodgings were nearby, would have gazed on with amazement on the new phenomenon of working-class militancy.

This unprecedented agitation resulted in the formation of the Employers Federation (1929), leading to the first collective agreement with a labour union (1929) and the beginning of trade union legislation in Sri Lanka. During these years, NU was in government service and was therefore debarred from politics or trade-union activity. Thus, as he watched these events firsthand, even if he had any sympathies with the workers, he would have kept his views to himself.

NU’s Work Ethic

When NU started work as a clerical servant, he was determined to bring certain principles and practices into his work. No doubt the lessons on efficiency and excellence, which he had learned both in school and from his British bosses in the workplace, were crucial in his attitude to office routine. He was a conscientious worker, but more than that, he was anxious to formulate a system whereby the files he maintained would be kept orderly and comprehensive.

This characteristic of his to have everything in a tidy retrieval system was one that stood him in good stead in the furtherance of his career. It brought a certain discipline not only to the office, but also to his own work.

NU took pride in his work and did not want any superior officer to find fault with him, and did whatever was given to him with meticulous care. In fact, he often used to say that the guiding principle with regard to his work was that ‘he must do today what he could well do tomorrow.’ It was a principle that made him impatient with those who did not have his keen and cutting intelligence and his ability to remember things down to the last detail.

He never proffered excuses if he failed to do anything, and this again was a trait that affected his relationships with those who worked with him. NU worked hard and conscientiously, combining study with work. His great opportunity for social and financial advancement, however, came with his marriage in 1929.

(N.U. JAYAWARDENA The First Five Decades Chapter 5 can read online on https://island.lk/lure-of-govt-service/

(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)
By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda ✍️

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Features

Independence of the judiciary, democratic governance, and dismantling of the executive presidency:

Published

17 hours ago

2026/10/14

Sahan Weerasooriya

NPP manifesto promises to abolish the executive presidency

the basis for drafting a new constitution

By Savitri Goonesekere

( This is an edited version of the transcript of a talk given at a public seminar titled ‘Why should we rally for a new people’s constitution?’, held at the National Library Auditorium on 11 September 2026 and organised by the Young Lawyers’ Association. )

Today there is so much confusion: what is Constitutionalism? What is a Constitution? Why do we need a Constitution? We must recognise that, it has been civil society, including professionals in this country, who have always articulated a voice on issues of public concern. If you remember the time of COVID, we had the medical professionals articulating a voice because this was a matter of public concern. So, the Bar Association, too, has expressed views on public concerns. We have with us this evening, President’s Counsel Mr. M. A. Sumanthiran, and Mr. Geoffrey Alagaratnam, and we will have President’s Counsel Mr. Saliya Pieris, who will join us later.

They and many other leading lawyers have always led from the front. And in that regard, in the case of the legal profession, inevitably there are areas of public concern that necessarily mean that they have to call the government to account. When that happens, the Bar Association is required to question government’s action or inaction including their policies

Now, in the past, I don’t think it was as bad as today, because today we have such adversarial, confrontational politics that if by any chance—and an unlucky chance—the Opposition’s stand on a matter happens to coincide with that of professionals, then there’s a delegitimisation of the professionals. That is wrong because professionals must have the courage to speak for their profession, even when they question the government. Constitutionalism and Constitution-making, to be functional, must have bipartisan consensus. When that is not there, even professionals who articulate a voice are seen as either anti-government, against government, or worse, lackeys of the government.

I think citizens should be aware of these realities, and therefore reflect on what it means to have a Constitution. What is a Constitution? A Constitution is, after all, the basic law of a country which will regulate the governance system. And to regulate a governance system, you have to have a framework for governance. The framework for governance also then will have to have institutions of governance. That would be what you call the system of governance. Now, those institutions of governance also have to be embedded and linked with some values, and a values framework.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, we have basically two forms or frameworks of governance. One is Democracy. The other is what we call centralised power with perhaps a single leader. That kind of governance does not focus in the way that Democracy does on the Sovereignty of the people, the rights and liberties of citizens of the country. Therefore, we need to understand in Constitution-making where we stand. Is it going to be for Democracy or is it going to be for another form of government? And I say this because today we’re constantly talking of the Democratic deficit, the failures of Democracy. Contrasted with that are countries which have strong leadership, single leadership, supposed to propel our counties into economic growth and a wonderful future.

In that context, therefore, we need to ask ourselves: what is the value in Democracy? Now Democracy, we must understand, was born of an evolutionary framework developed from a time when there was single leadership by a king, a monarch. Democracy didn’t come overnight. It had to dismantle monarchy and single leadership, and that’s what it did. Historically we know that basic ideas on Democracy as a form of governance can be traced to the Greek civilisation and time of what we call the Western Enlightenment. It was the Western Enlightenment that brought together these ideas of the Sovereignty of the People, a social contract between government and the People who are governed, and the central importance of the People of a country. That is Democracy. That did not come overnight. It took centuries. It took ideologies. It took thought. It required struggle born also of blood and tears.

Today we dismiss Democracy and this history and say, “Oh, it is elitist liberalism.” But we must not forget that Democracy was born as an evolution from monarchy and single leadership, replacing this with the concept of government that respected the rights of the Sovereign people. The central importance of the Sovereign Peoples rights to be protected from abuse of state power is the foundation of democracy as a form of governance. The European countries and the UK engaged with that system of governance.

By 1948, when the UN Charter and the International instruments were drafted, there were two different approaches to governance. One was the Western tradition born of their experience evolving from monarchy to People’s rights and People’s sovereignty that focused on civil liberties: freedom from torture, freedom of speech, freedom of expression, freedom to protest—those are civil liberties. But the weakness was that there was no recognition of social and economic rights as the rights of the people: that was absent in that tradition.

On the other hand, there were member states from the Communist countries, which had the centralized, authoritarian system of governance. They did not recognise civil liberties, but focused on meeting all their people’s social and economic needs as rights: health, education, shelter.

In 1948, we must remember that there were therefore two major international treaties or covenants: one, a Covenant on Civil and Political rights, and another one on Economic and Social rights. That was the Cold War period. But then subsequently through the years, there were changes. In the 1990s, there was the flowering of the human rights tradition. Member states of the UN came together at the Vienna World Conference in 1993, which then recognized that ALL these rights should be human rights of peoples across the globe

So, the Western liberal civil liberties tradition, linked with that of the countries of the Global South like Malaysia, China, and Russia—which recognized and gave importance to social and economic rights. And then a consensus developed that ALL these rights are important; they are “indivisible.” We witnessed this in the 1990s, and the early years of this millennium in the development of many international Conventions which declared human rights on the basis of both civil liberties and social and economic rights.

One would have thought that we would achieve a global consensus on the broadening of the meaning of democracy and a movement away from this concept of strong leadership without civil liberties. But we have not had that. In place of that, we have had a decline in multilateralism in the UN system, giving way to bilateralism, once again back to this focus on two systems: Democracy or strong single leadership.

In this global context, let us compare the situation in countries like ours, which experienced decolonization: countries which knew the impact of colonialism. What happened in those countries? These civil liberties, the legacy of the colonial powers, were used in freedom struggles. They were used to dismantle colonialism. That is why the idea that this liberal tradition of civil rights is a colonial white man’s sudda-law should be challenged. Because this is not so. These countries of South Asia and Africa internalised the values of Democracy, the systems of governance known as Democracy, and built for their nations Constitutions which recognized the importance of civil liberties and control of state power And you see this in India, you see this in Nepal, you see this in Sri Lanka: we had the same concepts of the importance of civil liberties in Constitutionalism. But we focussed on civil liberties. Social and economic rights in the Vienna Convention were considered only as social policies, following the Western tradition on people’s rights.

And what is the meaning of Constitutionalism? The Sovereign people have given their consent to the rulers to rule subject to protection of THEIR rights. And that means that Constitutionalism must prevent the abuse of State and Government power. . Today sometimes we talk of authoritarian Constitutionalism, we talk of abusive Constitutionalism. That’s a contradiction. If Constitutionalism is to prevent abuse of state, government power, you can’t have authoritarian constitutionalism or abusive constitutionalism. What you can say is you can abuse of constitution making process to embed an authoritarian system of governance.

So, we must now, therefore, recognise that even today, if we say there’s a Democratic deficit, this system of governance has been used in our countries to give a better quality of life to our people. There have been failures; there are dysfunctional areas, but that does not mean you have to reject something which has been a powerful force for recognising the importance of the citizens of a country.

I think today when we are challenged with all this talk on the deficit of democracy, the importance of single leadership and authoritarian governance to deliver development, we must stay the course and say: “No, for Sri Lanka, from 1948 we have had Democratic governance.” Governments have not delivered in many areas—true—so the challenge is to focus on Constitutionalism in a new Constitution. Priority must be given to help the government to deliver on the gaps that we have, and ensure the well-being of our people. Constitutionalism must be the basis for drafting a new constitution.

I think we have to also challenge this often-repeated statement that we have a “78-year curse” in governance. We have had deficiencies, but we have had Democratic governance. Central to that has been regular elections and the resilience of the People. Also, the contribution of the courts of this country, the lawyers of this country in ensuring that there has been some accountability in governance.

Some of you may not remember, but I have lived through dark times. I have witnessed the horror of the murder of a dear student, a politician whose head was cut off by the JVP—the Deshapremi at that time—and stuck on his gate. He had young children. I have gone with my husband in dark curfew streets to help clear a body for burial, where the first person who opened the poll, a relative, was killed at the General Election the JVP prohibited.

So, we in this country have lived through dark times. But we also have moved from that dark past to a point where those involved in an armed struggle the JVP entered into the democratic political process. They did so in 1994. Having come into that political process, the Democratic process, it is a commitment made to the people. We must hold this government with its JVP partner to deliver on Democracy, and not any other system of governance.

Let us look at our history of Constitutionalism and Constitution making. What is our history? 1948: we had the parliamentary system. We had, particularly in relation to the minorities, decisions of the appeal courts which have been criticised, which did not take into account minority rights. So, there were deficiencies. But we had a written constitution, we had courts, we had public administration and law enforcement systems that functioned. That was the dividend of post-independence freedom and political autonomy in Sri Lanka.

Then in 1972: with a massive mandate, we had a government which again brought in the 1972 “autochthonous” or home grown constitution. But what did it do? In fact, it interpreted the Sovereignty of the People as the Sovereignty of Parliament and parliamentarians. And that made Democracy dysfunctional. There is a recorded history of the abuse of power that took place at the time, including the conflict with the courts.

Now change was promised in 1978 Constitution. The people gave a massive mandate for a Dharmishta anduwa. And then what happened ? Again, we put in place all the democratic institutions as we know them, the system of democracy familiar in the liberal tradition. But a huge gap was the aggrandizement of power in the strong Executive Presidency, which has led to decades of problems in the governance of this country.

The Executive Presidency of 1978 has destabilised what were good public institutions. It has contributed to an ethos where, in institutions, the person who is considered the boss is supposed to lead, and everybody else does not question him/her. That happens in the public sector today in many institutions, and I’m told (and it looks like it does) that sometimes this also happens in the private sector. So, we have developed what you call a boss-man culture which seeps down to society, not just public institutions and governance. The Executive Presidency, therefore, has contributed to the weakening of many public institutions and also, to a large extent, a culture of corruption, and abuse of power.

This decline has been understood, and because it has been understood, since the year 2000 we have been asking for a new Constitution that will eliminate the Executive Presidency. Successive political leaders including the current President and their political parties have pledged in election manifestos to do this. At least the Chandrika Bandaranaike government fulfilled that promise and brought such a constitution in 2000 to abolish the Executive Presidency and strengthen the democratic institutions to achieve accountable governance to the People. Unfortunately, a subsequent and recent executive President and his party tore that Constitution to shreds in Parliament. That was 2000.

(To be continued)

Features

Coercive laws recipe for future misrule

Published

2 days ago

2026/10/13

Sahan Weerasooriya

by Jehan Perera

The NPP government is going after powerful figures from the past and present who have engaged in corruption, fraud and criminal activity in a way that no previous government in Sri Lanka has done. Former ministers, politicians and senior state officials are among those facing investigations and legal proceedings. The government has placed before Parliament a document listing 50 cases involving corruption, fraud and other crimes. These include not only financial offences but also cases relating to the Easter Sunday attacks, the killings of Lasantha Wickrematunge and Wasim Thajudeen, the disappearance of Prageeth Ekneligoda and attacks on journalists Keith Noyahr and Upali Tennakoon.

The significance of this effort is that it can demonstrate that nobody is above the law, regardless of political connections or social standing, which will help restore public confidence in institutions that have long been distrusted. It could also recover public resources, improve the investment climate and strengthen the foundations for a more prosperous and just Sri Lanka. When criticised for focusing on the past and not the present, the government position is that these investigations were initiated under earlier governments, particularly between 2015 and 2019, and that it is now allowing investigators to proceed to deal with the backlog without political interference.

But there is an aspect of the government’s approach that is less justifiable. While pursuing past wrongdoing by powerful individuals, it is also advancing a triumvirate of draft laws that could give the state sweeping powers over citizens, organisations and dissent in the present and future. The draft Prevention of Terrorism legislation, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill raise serious questions about the over-centralisation of power. Each of these laws strengthens the powers of the state while weakening the rights and safeguards that protect people from their misuse and thus questions the basic rights of people in democracy where ‘the power of the people is vested in the government’. This is a recipe for future misrule rather than the rule of law. As the well-known saying goes, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Proposed Laws

The real test of system change, for which the government obtained an overwhelming mandate, requires not only a government willing to hold others accountable, but one prepared to subject itself to the same principles of legality, transparency and restraint. The three proposed laws that are particularly important in this regard are the Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill. Each of these draft laws has been presented as serving a legitimate purpose. Preventing terrorism, combating organised crime and ensuring that NGOs do not facilitate money laundering or terrorist financing are proper responsibilities of the state. Sri Lanka has international obligations in these areas, and no responsible government can disregard them. However, the existence of a legitimate objective does not justify every means adopted to achieve it.

The proposed Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill illustrates the problem. Although its definition of terrorism draws on a model developed by a former United Nations Special Rapporteur, the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka has warned that the definition of terrorism extends beyond the model and could bring legitimate political protest, trade union action and civil disobedience within the scope of counter-terrorism legislation. Its concerns also include prolonged detention, inadequate judicial oversight and restrictions on access to legal counsel. These are objections that go to the heart of the relationship between the citizen and the state. The government cannot credibly promise to protect democratic freedoms while creating powers that could be used to restrict them. It is necessary for the government to reassess the draft through transparent consultation and revise provisions that could criminalise legitimate dissent.

The Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill raises similar concerns. It is presented as giving effect to the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organised Crime, which Sri Lanka ratified in 2006. The Centre for Policy Alternatives (CPA) has argued that the convention does not require many of the bill’s provisions. The proposed law extends to a broad range of offences, permits detention orders lasting up to a year, makes confessions to police admissible for purposes of legal evidence, and introduces extensive surveillance powers. A law intended to dismantle criminal networks should not create a parallel system of exceptional powers that could be applied far beyond organised crime. Nor should safeguards developed through years of experience with abuses under the Prevention of Terrorism Act be weakened through legislation bearing a different name. The government should review whether or not existing laws could be used effectively to control these crimes or whether each exceptional power is necessary.

Civil Society

The proposed NGO Registration and Supervision Bill presents another test of the government’s intentions. The government may reasonably seek transparency in the finances of organisations receiving public or foreign funds, including measures to prevent money laundering and terrorist financing. It seeks to justify its overreach on the grounds of meeting the internationally mandated requirements of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) for the Asia-Pacific region. But these objectives do not justify placing civil society and NGOs under excessive administrative control when even the FATF ranks them as low to medium risks. The draft bill would require registration and renewal, impose extensive obligations on organisations and empower authorities to suspend or deregister them on broadly framed grounds. It is important to redraft provisions that confer excessive discretion over registration, renewal, suspension and deregistration of NGOs.

Among the concerns raised by United Nations human rights special rapporteurs with regard to the draft NGO law are provisions requiring organisations to align with government policies and restrictions that could affect advocacy, dissent and freedom of association. The implications extend well beyond organisations that engage directly with the government. Community groups, human rights organisations, independent researchers and organisations working on reconciliation or accountability could find their activities constrained by uncertainty over how these provisions might be interpreted. Organisations that criticise government policies are not thereby working against the country. Their freedom to do so is part of what distinguishes a democracy from a system in which the government determines which opinions and activities are acceptable.

The government has generated considerable public goodwill through its pursuit of corruption and criminality. It should not assume that this goodwill gives it an unlimited mandate to strengthen the coercive powers of the state. The NPP knows from its own history that governments can treat dissent as a threat and use the machinery of the state against their opponents. There is still time to correct the drafts through transparent public consultation, narrow definitions of offences, meaningful judicial control over detention and surveillance, and effective remedies against arbitrary decisions. A government that pursues corruption while weakening safeguards against state abuse risks undermining its own achievements. Besides bringing to light the abuse of power by previous governments, the NPP government needs to build a system in which no future government can abuse power in the belief they can get away with it.

Features

Quality assurance without quality enhancement: The irony of university QA

Published

2 days ago

2026/10/13

Sahan Weerasooriya

By Ramya Kumar

According to the Quality Assurance Council (QAC) of the University Grants Commission (UGC), quality assurance (QA) refers to “the means (i.e. the policies, attitudes, actions, procedures, etc.), by which an institution can guarantee with confidence and certainty, that the standards and quality of its educational provision are being maintained and enhanced”.

An expansive structure has been in place since 2005 to govern and implement QA processes within the state university system. The QAC is the focal point at the UGC that implements external reviews of state universities and institutes. Each university has its own Centre for Quality Assurance (CQA) tasked with performing QA in line with QAC directives. Faculties, in turn, have Internal Quality Assurance Cells (IQAC) performing their own QA; they are answerable to the CQA.

The big question is whether this all-encompassing top-down QA system, that in many ways undermines the internal dynamics of university governance, actually supports universities to enhance the quality of education. This article highlights some concerns.

Top-down check-box activities

The QAC conducts external reviews of universities and degree programmes. A review team appointed by the UGC (who may or may not have experience in the institution/programme in question) examines the self-evaluation report submitted by the said institution/programme. The team then conducts a site visit to verify the claims made in the university’s self-evaluation report, clarify issues identified during the desk review, and examine how QA procedures operate in practice. The team holds meetings with the university administration, members of the Council and Senate, Deans, Heads of Departments, academic and non-academic staff, students, and others. Following the visit, a draft report is submitted to the relevant institution/programme for comment before final publication. The reviewed institution/programme then prepares and publishes an action plan addressing the recommendations, with subsequent monitoring of progress.

There are some worthy QA initiatives under implementation, such as improving facilities for students with disabilities and strengthening mechanisms to address sexual- and gender-based violence. However, for the most part, QA activities have little to do with improving the quality of education. They are mostly preoccupied with monitoring faculty and department websites, digital transformation, student feedback, subject evaluation, course evaluation, peer evaluation, and, more recently, staff appraisal. These activities, which consume an inordinate amount of time—so precious at understaffed universities—have become check-box activities completed to generate evidence for the next review. Below is an excerpt of a conversation between two academics (1 and 2) that conveys how QA plays out at universities (reproduced with permission).

1: … .it’s like social media you know, like posting things on Facebook or twitter or Instagram. When people do a lot of social media, everything they do, they do thinking, “okay I’m going to post it in this way… this I have to put on my Instagram.” QA is a little like that… everything is considered in light of, “ah we can use this for the review, as evidence… for example very recently we were encouraged to have all the things that we do in our department in the faculty newsletter so then they can put in the review. Every little thing has to be noted down….

2: And with pictures and all…

1: At the very least it has to be written so that you have written evidence .. you can’t be doing something for the sake of doing something or because it is good for the department … and sometimes people tell me “oh yea that’s a good idea we can fit that under this x, y section of the review..”

2: Yea, and nobody really thinks about the actual outcome… whether it’s actually helping anyone..

1: I also find that a lot of the words that we used in different ways have now been co-opted to the QA discourse ..including quality.. I can’t actually say what I want as an “outcome”, for example, that the outcome of this workshop is that my students “think about” … then I am told “ah but no that’s not one of the Bloom’s taxonomy words, “think about”.…

2: And the worst part is these medical and agriculture people, these types of people go around spreading it like some kind of gospel!

1: Yea, this cookie cutter way of doing things, they think is the height of innovativeness or creativity, when actually it is so mundane … for me the most awful thing about it is like some fungus of mundanity has taken over through QA reviews.

2: yea, when you say QA, my mind closes off immediately and I stop listening…

Auditing everything but power

QA leaves out crucial aspects of university governance. For instance, there is no review or assessment of the “quality” of university administrations under Criterion 1 or the integrity of procedures governing the promotion of academic staff under Criterion 6 of the institutional reviews.

The majority in the Council—the university’s executive and governing body, which is responsible for selecting the Vice-Chancellor (VC)—are appointed in ad hoc fashion. Apart from the Ex-Officio members in the Council (VC, Deans, etc.), and the two members elected by the Senate, the remainder are appointed by the UGC with no formal consultation or vetting procedure. The VC appointment process described in UGC Circular No. 03/2023 exemplifies how an ostensibly technical process can become entangled in political sycophancy. The Registrar invites applications for the position of VC through advertisement. Applicants must submit a curriculum vitae, a statement of vision for the university and supporting documents. The University Council appoints a three-member Search Committee of senior academics to encourage “eminent persons” to apply, while the UGC appoints a former VC from another university to “observe” the selection process.

A Special Meeting of the University Council is convened. Candidates are interviewed and must make a presentation to the Council Members, followed by questions. Each Council member “gives marks” for seven prescribed criteria: strategic focus (20%), effective leadership (20%), holistic thinking/conceptual skills (10%), academic and research excellence (15%), personal integrity (10%), professional communication (10%) and managerial competence (15%). Marks are averaged, and the Council recommends three candidates to the UGC in rank order. The UGC-appointed observer separately submits a confidential report on the selection process.

This procedure is expected to guarantee quality, but does it? Applications are submitted to the Council Members, who have been appointed on questionable bases, and who are expected to review the applications and give scores, based on objective assessments. But, in reality, most Council Members are manipulated by VC candidates, who often have personal ties with them. The UGC-appointed observer usually has no genuine interest in the outcome. And there is no way for anyone to actually question the Council’s decision once it is made. Although the highest-ranked candidate may ultimately be appointed, the selection remains a political decision made by the President, who retains the discretion to appoint any one of the three.

External reviews also do not look into the promotions of academic staff, except to scrutinise whether there are policies and procedures in place to govern promotion. Academic staff may apply for promotion to Professor once they satisfy the prescribed eligibility requirements, which typically include the period of service, academic qualifications, research and publication achievements, teaching experience, and contributions to the university and wider community. Applications are evaluated against specified criteria, with research output and academic contributions assessed through documentary evidence and expert evaluation. Under the UGC’s scheme for Professors, two experts from outside the applicant’s institution assess specified aspects of research and knowledge dissemination. Again, beneath this technical process, which is externally evaluated, lies a problematic points-based scheme that can be manipulated and abused with impunity.

Rethinking university QA

Like the VC election process and the schemes of promotion for academic staff, QA reviews are open to manipulation. Before a review, there is a chaotic rush to complete evidence gathering and reporting. Academics leave all other work aside, including at times their teaching, to focus on completing documentation and preparing reports. The standardised criteria in the review manuals and scoring sheets often do not reflect differences in disciplines and institutional contexts. But this does not really matter because any serious problems experienced by institutions or programmes are hastily brushed under the carpet to conceal any evidence that could taint the review. The goal is to obtain an A or at least a B grade at whatever cost.

QA may result in positive change if it moves beyond top-down check-box activities towards internally designed and owned processes encompassing all aspects of university governance, led by departments and faculties, and supported by adequate resources. The current QA system needs to be dismantled and replaced by procedures that are accountable, not to the UGC, but to our students and the communities we serve.

(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna)

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