Features

EMANCIPATION THROUGH EDUCATION

Published

8 months ago

2025/05/25

Thilina Walpola

Mulkirigala Temple: wall painting depicting a troupe of women musicians, including female drummer

CHAPTER III

I remember my first day in school when I was five years old… There were about 30 students. Our classroom was a long, single room with a low wall from where we could see the playground, and the paddy fields further away.

(NU, interview with Carol Aloysius, 2000)

The Colonial School System

In Sri Lanka there had been a virtual revolution in education in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, reflected in the rise of literacy and educational levels. Primary schools expanded in urban and rural areas, and literacy rates increased rapidly. In leading towns, wellstaffed and equipped high schools in the English medium (some with boarding facilities), drew in boys and girls from all parts of the island. Parents from rural areas or small towns would try to somehow raise the necessary funds to send their children to schools in provincial capitals (and if possible, to Colombo) for their secondary studies, in order to broaden their horizons and prospects. While those living in villages were often caste-conscious, the schools in the towns had a universalism, which discouraged parochial feeling. Students sent to urban centres for their studies became more aware

of social and political issues affecting Sri Lanka and the rest of the world. NU was part of this process. His family, in the quest for upliftment through education, chose to move him from a small school in Hambantota (St. Mary’s), where he had his primary education, to a secondary school in the larger town of Matara (St. Servatius’), and then to a prestigious school (St. Aloysius’) in the provincial capital of Galle – all of which were run by Jesuits.

A pansala (temple) school

The country had a network of non-fee-levying government schools teaching in Sinhala and Tamil, and one – Royal College – teaching in English. There were also English-medium non-government schools, which received government grants and levied fees. The latte were run by Christian missionaries and Buddhist organizations in Colombo and the provincial capitals. The first Englishmedium schools, during early British rule, were attended by the sons of Muhandirams, Mudaliyars and the local new-rich. A few children

from less-affluent families also attended. These schools, based on the British school system, implanted modernizing ideologies among the children. Similarly, there was also an expansion of English-medium Buddhist schools in urban areas, which modelled their curricula on the former, imparting a western-oriented, modern education, but with an emphasis on Sri Lankan and Indian history and on Buddhism. English-medium schools were a training ground for the professions, producing lawyers and doctors as well as teachers, planters, businessmen, clerks, bookkeepers and secretaries. The demand for a

modern English education increased with the growth of the colonial economy, the creation of mercantile establishments, and the consequent expansion of the job market.

Early Education at St. Mary’s

The reverence for education in Sri Lankan culture is reflected in the traditional ceremony of ‘first letters,’ in which a child is initiated into the process of writing by a respected or learned person. NU’s education started at the age of three with this ritual, which was conducted by his maternal grandfather, Gajawira. This was preceded by a visit to the temple by the whole family (de Zoysa manuscript, p.48). A few years later, registered as Ubesinghe Jayawardenage Nonis, he began his formal education in 1913 at St. Mary’s School, a typical, one-room village school for children under the age of 10. The school, located barely a mile away from the Hambantota Resthouse, was founded in 1900 by a Belgian Jesuit, Father Paul Cooreman (1863-1919), even though there were only about a dozen Catholics in the town (Perniola, 2004, p.28). Father Paul Cooreman, born in Ghent, Belgium, in 1863, came to Sri Lanka in 1899 after joining the Jesuit Order. His elder brother, Father Joseph Cooreman, was already teaching in the Southern Province. The former was allocated to Hambantota, which was referred to as “a sterile station… a locality burnt by the sun and inhabited only by Muslim merchants of salt of whom… nobody is ever converted.” Since it was difficult to recruit teachers “to come and re- side under the burning heat of this place,” Cooreman himself taught at St. Mary’s (Report of Father Feron, 1913, quoted in Perniola, pp.510-11).

NU’s sister Wimala, dressed up as Queen Victoria for a school play, Christ Church School, Tangalle

Father Cooreman was described as a “man full of duty, full of zeal,” who gave himself “body and soul to the hard work.” Cooreman worked for 20 years in Hambantota, until his death of cholera in 1919. As Perniola writes: “in his humble bullock cart he crossed the jungle or vast burning desert… paying no attention to distances or to fatigue” (ibid, p.574). St. Mary’s in NU’s time was headed by Father Wickremasinghe.

Two and a half years later, NU changed his school when his father left his job as Hambantota Resthouse keeper. The circumstances of his leaving reveal the latter’s temperament. Diyonis had declined to carry out his duties in the way the Government Agent (GA) of the Southern Province wanted, and eventually told him to ‘do the job himself.’ The GA appears to have been a difficult person to work for; as Leonard Woolf wrote many years later, he himself had been “rapped on the knuckles” by the Governor for including in his diary “some sarcastic and not unjustified criticism” of his superior, the

GA (Woolf, 1969, p.200). NU’s cousin, a clerk in the Kachcheri Mudaliyar’s office, tried to persuade Diyonis not to jeopardize his job by challenging officialdom. Disregarding his advice, Diyonis left the job and went home to Tangalle with his family (de Zoysa manuscript, p.49). NU’s maternal grandfather, Gajawira was ambitious for his grandson and felt he should be sent to a good school. In 1916 the change was made to St. Servatius’ College, Matara, which, like St. Mary’s, was run by Belgian Jesuits. NU moved to Devundara, where his maternal grandparents lived, since this was closer to Matara.

Meanwhile, Diyonis turned to cultivating his paddy land at Angunakolapelessa, a drought-stricken and depressed area frequented by elephants, 15 miles from Tangalle. NU commented: “As a child I would often help my father who had a small paddy field in a jungle area. It was a source of our income and I, being the eldest boy, was useful to my father in his work.” NU also in an interview referred to the “unproductive paddy land” his father farmed (Roshan Pieris, 1987). These childhood experiences may have resulted in NU’s realization that small landownership was neither a source of income or status, and, in later life, in his particularly critical view of those engaged in absentee-landlordism.

Some miles away from where his father farmed was an imposing dagoba on the summit of a rock known as Mulkirigala, 300 feet high. Its historic temple, carved out of rock, is famous for a wall painting depicting a troupe of female musicians, including a woman drummer. The summit presents a panoramic view of the province. Bordering Diyonis’ paddy land on all sides was forest. The backwoods in which this land lay could be viewed from the treehouse, or platform, which it was customary to have in such areas. It served as a watch-post for the cultivator to protect his crops from elephants. Made of two gnarled tamarind trees, the structure was 12 feet high, and one climbed on to it with the help of a ladder (de Zoysa manuscript, p.52).

The Tangalle Connection

Tangalle, where Diyonis and his family had their home, lay roughly midway between Matara and Hambantota. Unlike Hambantota, which was the administrative and commercial centre of the district, Tangalle was a quiet town situated on a bay. Diyonis’ house was on the Medaketiya Road – a loop road branching off from the main Tangalle-Hambantota Road, which skirts the sea front and joins the Hambantota Road at Ranna. The house was nearly two miles beyond the bridge over the Kirama Oya. A tiny lake nearby, called Rekava Kohalankala, added to the attractive setting.

NU’s parents’ home in Tangalle

A one-room school

NU’s daughter Neiliya has vivid recollections of her grandparents’ home, which she used to visit as a child:

My grandparent’s home was in Tangalle, which they sold subsequently when they moved to Colombo. I still visit this house on occasion, though the surroundings have changed. The house is still in its original condition – a U-shaped building with a central courtyard, covered with sea sand of sparkling gold. ( The house remained in its original condition up until the tsunami of December 2004, when it was completely destroyed.) The base of the ‘U’ is the living and dining rooms, and the right side has the kitchen storeroom and servant’s room, and the left side the bedrooms. During my childhood, the house had one boundary at the rear and the other was the river. It was a beautiful location, an ideal hunting ground and playing field for us children – 8 brothers’ and sisters’ children – 27 grandchildren in all. There were no other houses within sight.

Near the Jayawardena house and land at Medaketiya was the house of the Amarasinghe family, where Kusuma Gunawardena née Amarasinghe – later Member of Parliament and wife of leftist leader Philip Gunawardena – was born in 1905. Lakmali Gunawardena has

written of her mother’s birthplace and the string of towns and ports that dotted the southern coastline between Galle and Kirinde. She refers to the “thin ribbon of road [along which were] these towns, Matara, Devundara, Tangalle, Ambalantota, and smaller ones of local importance… Ranna, Hungama, Netolpitiya, and Nonagama… up to and beyond Tissamaharama” (Gunawardena, 2004, p.1).

Tangalle was a natural site for a small harbour, where the British built a resthouse on a promontory overlooking the Indian Ocean… In the early 1900s it had schools, a post office, a police station and other establishments that had elevated it from a sleepy fishing town. (ibid)

The Amarasinghes and U.J. Diyonis’ family knew each other. The second Amarasinghe son, Dayananda was a contemporary of NU’s and they kept in touch with each other throughout their lives. The houses of both families were situated on coconut land that adjoined the sea, and their lifestyles were similar. Both families were Buddhist; the Amarasinghe father, Don Davith was a building contractor who was active in the Tangalle branch of the Buddhist Theosophical Society and was the leading patron of the town’s Buddhist school – Sri Rahula Vidyalaya, which Kusuma attended. Amarasinghe, being independently employed, could afford to sponsor Buddhist education and be involved in the agitation carried out by the Buddhist movement. In contrast, Diyonis had to be cautious – if he held any ‘controversial’ views – while he served the government as a resthouse keeper.

Devundara and Matara

NU’s first break with his home was when he was sent to live with his grandfather. NU’s maternal relatives – the Gajawiras of Devundara – constituted the more-learned side of his family, and NU always acknowledged the role of his mother’s father, who took a great interest in NU’s education. By all accounts, his grandfather Gajawira was well versed in Sinhala grammar and poetry, as he had been educated at a pirivena (temple school). Gajawira had four daughters and a son. NU’s mother Podi Nona was the eldest; the youngest, Arlis Perera Gajawira (1901-82) was seven years older than NU. Like NU, his uncle Arlis also attended St. Servatius’ and joined the clerical service. He and NU became close and kept in touch in later life. Arlis even named one of his sons Neville, after NU. (Interview with Dr. Bandula Gajawira, Arlis Gajawira’s son. The family link continued when Arlis’ granddaughter married Dr. Mahilal Ratnapala, NU’s sister Wimala’s son.)

Devundara is the southernmost point of Sri Lanka, with a lighthouse, marketplace and a historic Vishnu devale. NU’s grandfather’s small house was on Lighthouse Road, which leads to the famous lighthouse. St. Servatius’ was three miles away in the town of Matara

with its Dutch fort, low ramparts, government offices and courthouse. This English-medium school, founded in 1897, was off the main road and close to a promontory called Brown’s Hill. NU studied at St. Servatius’ for four years.

On his first day in school, NU, who was accompanied by his grandfather and his uncle Arlis, was introduced to the principal. The 3-mile trek to school along the road, and probably along the beautiful Wellamadama beach, was not unusual at the time. In 1911 in Sri Lanka, the average distance on foot to the nearest school was 3 miles, with provincial averages ranging from 5 miles in the North Central Province to three-quarters of a mile in the Western Province (Denham, 1912, p.405).

NU seemed to have enjoyed his long walk to school and back, noting its beneficial effects:

My grandfather decided to have me educated at St. Servatius’ College in Matara. To reach school we had to walk three miles and this I did at the age of eight in 1916. I did not feel that walking to school was some kind of drudgery. I enjoyed school. I would get up as early as five o’clock, and by six in the morning I left with my uncle and walked to school. Looking back now perhaps it appears tedious, but I enjoyed the walk. School was over at about three in the afternoon, and I would reach home by six in the evening. The walk did have its impact, for, I think, it made me hardy and strong, especially since roads at that time were not tarred and finished as they are now and I would walk barefoot to and from school. In fact, my determination to study, to gain knowledge as it were, made me make this daily trip without finding any excuses to stay away from school. (interview by Manel Abhayaratne)

Lucien de Zoysa notes that, NU “preferred to walk barefoot, carrying his shoes in one hand… shoes were compulsory at school, but NU found it more comfortable to walk barefoot, and put on socks and shoes only as he entered the school premises” (de Zoysa manuscript, p.53). As NU recalled: “I don’t remember wearing shoes until I went to St. Servatius” (Roshan Pieris, 1992). According to Pat Williams (who was at St. Aloysius’), inexpensive Japanese tennis shoes became readily available in Sri Lanka around that time, and thus, the use of shoes became more widespread (personal communication, 2006). The walk to school, however, did appear to have put a strain on the young NU, with a negative impact on his studies. The grandfather, noting the boy’s weariness, placed NU at the home of the school catechist who lived in a house situated within the Matara

fort, one mile from St. Servatius’ College.

This change did not seem to make much of a difference to his progress in school – and perhaps made him feel more isolated and lonely. Lucien de Zoysa writes that NU’s grandfather knew, by the way that “NU got on with his Sinhalese grammar and poetry, that he was no dullard, but how to get him interested in his books was the problem.” In retrospect, de Zoysa speculated that NU’s poor performance may have been caused by separation from his doting mother and sisters. To his grandfather, he seemed to be in a world of his own. Perhaps it was due to this loneliness and homesickness that NU played truant from time to time – sometimes bathing in the Nilvala Ganga, which flowed under the bridge at Matara – perhaps recalling happier times at the river and beach back home in Tangalle (de Zoysa manuscript, p.53).

Given this separation from his parents and siblings, NU looked forward to returning to Tangalle during school holidays. We have evidence of this from NU’s niece, Chandrani, who says:

My mother [Rosalind] related to us that she looked forward to my uncle [NU’s] school vacation so that they could give him the best of food to make him plump and healthy. She said that she measured his arm on the

first day he came home to check how much weight he had put on by the end of the vacation. The food they had was thala guli [sesame sweet] and banana on waking; then a plate of rice with bala maalu [tuna] and kiri hodhi [coconut gravy]. After lunch, they had mi kiri [buffalo curd] and

honey [palm treacle].

NU also soon had two younger brothers: David born in 1910, and the ‘baby’ Peter born in 1915. David was outgoing and boisterous, whereas NU tended to be introverted. In 1920, after 4 years at St. Servatius’, NU at the age of 12 was sent to St. Aloysius’ College in Galle. The move to St. Aloysius’ was to be a crucial milestone in his life.

Ironically, in his early days NU did not do well in arithmetic or mathematics. He himself often stated that he was a late developer, and his childhood schooling, though it opened to him a new world of books, did not really give him any impetus to further his knowledge in any particular subject. When he reached the 5th standard in school, family circumstances favoured him once again, when his eldest sister Charlotte was married in 1919 to Thevis Nanayakkara. This was a fortuitous event that solved the dilemma facing his maternal grandfather, who had been worried about his grandson’s progress. They decided that NU should go to St. Aloysius’ College in Galle, since Charlotte’s house was half a mile away from the Talpe railway station, 6 miles from Galle. NU was later joined at the Nanayakkara residence by his younger brothers, David and Peter.

The Importance of Railways Indrani Munasinghe’s book, The Colonial Economy on Track (2001) documents the story of transport expansion and the way the network of roads and railways built in the 19th century changed the lives of many who lived in areas remote from Colombo. Before the coming of the railways, towns such as Kandy, Jaffna and Galle had been linked by new roads to Colombo, but travel was by cart, horsedrawn coach, or on horseback. Norah Roberts writes that, the Colombo- Kandy coach was started in 1832, and by 1838 there was a two-horse Galle Royal Mail Coach leaving Galle at 6 o’clock in the morning to arrive in Colombo at 4.30 in the afternoon, as well as a Galle-Matara coach. These coaches, which charged differential amounts from various categories of persons – Europeans, Burghers, lawyers and Mudaliyars – were, however, beyond the reach of the mass of people, who used bullock carts, and hackeries (light carriages)

or walked to their destinations (Norah Roberts, 1993, p.9).

After the Colombo-Kandy rail connection was opened in 1867, railways were extended to other towns in the Central and Uva provinces, to cater to the needs of the plantation sector. Railway expansion, which benefited the inhabitants of other provinces, occurred subsequently. This accessibility between provincial towns and Colombo enabled many to commute to work and even to school from outlying areas. The coastal line from Colombo to Matara via Galle, a distance of 100 miles, was completed by 1895. The expansion of railways was certainly a most welcome innovation for southerners. A schoolteacher described the arrival of the first train in Galle in 1894, “with decorated engine,” adding that “the band played and people danced on the platform” (quoted in Roberts, 1993, p.9).

NU benefited from the coming of railways to the South. He had once used to walk many miles from Devundara to school in Matara and back, as the railway line did not go beyond Matara. But when he was transferred to school in Galle, he travelled in the trains that operated between Matara and Galle. The railways changed NU’s life, as did his new school, St. Aloysius’ College. (N.U. JAYAWARDENA The First Five Decades Chapter 2 can read online on https://island.lk/nus-social-milieu/))

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

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Features

The Silent Shadow: The threat of the Nipah virus in Asia

Published

10 hours ago

2026/01/30

Thilina Walpola

In the quiet woods of West Bengal and the lush countryside of Kerala, a lethal pathogen is once again testing the limits of modern biosafety. The Nipah virus (NiV), a shadow that has flickered across South and South-East Asia for decades, is currently the subject of heightened international surveillance. With a case fatality rate that can soar up to 75%, this virus Nipah is not just a regional concern; it is a priority pathogen on the World Health Organization (WHO) Research and Development Blueprint, alongside Ebola and COVID-19, due to its epidemic potential.

To understand the much-justified fear Nipah inspires in the scientific community, one needs to look at its molecular machinery. Nipah is a negative-sense, single-stranded RNA virus belonging to the genus Henipavirus. In a kind of “Instruction Manual” analogy, Positive-Sense (+RNA) arrive with an instruction manual already written in the cell’s language. As soon as they enter the cell, the cell can start reading the RNA and “printing” viral proteins immediately. In contrast, Negative-Sense (-RNA) viruses like Nipah, Influenza, or Rabies, arrive with an instruction manual that is written backwards or as a “mirror image.” The cell’s machinery cannot read it directly. It cannot dictate terms to the cell. It needs a “translator” to get the cell to do what the virus wants. If the translator is deactivated, the virus becomes inert. However, with the help of the active translator, a replication pathway is created. This specific replication pathway is a major area of study for antiviral drugs. If we can find a way to “jam” that specific viral translator without hurting the host cell’s own functions, we can effectively stop the virus, so to speak, in its tracks.

Nipah is a “Biosafety Level 4” agent; the highest risk category requiring maximum containment. The virus targets the host’s cells lining of blood vessels and the nerve tissues. Once it enters the human body, typically through the binding of its attaching glycoprotein to host receptors, it initiates a devastating cascade. The infection often presents as a dual-threat, namely acute respiratory problems with features of severe “atypical pneumonia,” and potentially fatal involvement of the brain. In its most sinister form, the virus crosses the blood-brain barrier which routinely protects against invasion of the central nervous system by infective organisms, causing massive inflammation of the brain. Symptoms progress rapidly from fever and headache to drowsiness, disorientation, and seizures, often culminating in a coma within 24 to 48 hours.

As of January 2026, the epidemiological map of Asia shows several distinct hotspots. India is currently managing two distinct geographical risks. In West Bengal, a recent cluster in Kolkata and Barasat involving healthcare workers has triggered a massive “trace and test” operation. This region, bordering Bangladesh, has a history of outbreaks dating back to 2001. Simultaneously, Kerala in Southern India has become a recurrent epicentre, with four confirmed cases and two deaths reported in mid-2025 across the Malappuram and Palakkad districts.

Bangladesh remains the most consistently affected nation. In 2025 alone, four fatal, unrelated cases were reported across the Barisal, Dhaka, and Rajshahi divisions. Unlike the hospital-based transmission often seen elsewhere, Bangladesh’s outbreaks are frequently linked to a cultural staple, which is the consumption of raw date palm sap.

The current clusters have sent warning currents across the continent. Airports in Thailand (Suvarnabhumi and Phuket), Nepal, and Singapore have reinstated COVID-style health screenings for travellers arriving from affected Indian states. Taiwan has gone a step further, proposing to categorise Nipah as a “Category 5” notifiable disease; the highest level of public health alert.

The natural reservoir of Nipah is the Pteropus genus of fruit bats, commonly known as flying foxes. These bats carry the virus without falling ill themselves, shedding it in their saliva, urine, and excrement. The “spillover” to humans typically occurs via three routes:

= Contaminated Food: Eating fruit partially consumed by bats or drinking raw date palm sap where bats have urinated into the collection pots.

= Intermediate Hosts: In the 1998 Malaysia outbreak, pigs acted as “amplifying hosts” after eating contaminated fruit, later passing the virus to farmworkers.

= Human-to-Human: This is the greatest concern for urban centres. Close contact with the bodily fluids or respiratory droplets of an infected patient, often enough in a home care or hospital setting, can trigger secondary clusters.

While Sri Lanka has not yet recorded a human case of Nipah, the island cannot afford complacency. The risks are grounded in both biology and regional connectivity. Surveillance studies have confirmed that Pteropus bat species are indigenous to Sri Lanka. While the presence of the bat does not guarantee the presence of the virus, the ecological apparatus for a spillover event exists on the island. Environmental changes, such as deforestation, can drive these bats closer to human settlements in search of food, increasing the probability of contact.

Sri Lanka’s proximity to South India, particularly Kerala and Tamil Nadu, creates a constant flow of people and goods. With direct flights and maritime links to regions currently monitoring outbreaks, the risk of an “imported case” is quite considerable. A single undetected traveller in the incubation period, that is the period between the infection and production of the disease, which can last from 4 to 14 days, and in rare cases up to 45, could theoretically introduce the virus into a local clinical setting.

The primary challenge for Sri Lanka lies in looking at what doctors call a “differential diagnosis”, which looks at all possible conditions that have a similar clinical presentation. Early symptoms of Nipah mimic common tropical illnesses like dengue, Japanese encephalitis, or even severe influenza. Without high-level biocontainment labs (BSL-3 or BSL-4) and rapid Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR) testing protocols specifically tuned for Henipaviruses, a localised outbreak could gain significant momentum before it is correctly identified. Incidentally, PCR is a sort of molecular photocopier which allows scientists to take a tiny, almost undetectable amount of viral genetic material (RNA or DNA) from a patient’s swab or blood sample and amplify it millions of times until there is enough to be detected and identified.

Currently, there is no licensed vaccine or specific antiviral drug in the treatment for Nipah. Management is limited to intensive supportive care. However, the “One Health” approach offers a roadmap for prevention:

=For the Public: Ensure all fruits are thoroughly washed and peeled, and discard any fruit that shows signs of bird or animal bites (“bat-bitten” fruit).

=For Healthcare Workers: Strict adherence to Infection Prevention and Control (IPC) measures. Wearing personal protective equipment (PPE) when treating patients with unexplained encephalitis or respiratory distress is vital.

=For Authorities: Strengthening surveillance of bat populations and enhancing the diagnostic capacity of national laboratories.

Nipah virus is a reminder of the permeable borders between the wild and the urban. As Asia watches the current clusters in India and Bangladesh, the lesson for Sri Lanka is clear: preparedness is the only antidote to a virus that currently has no cure.

We need to make the general public well aware of preventive guidelines for travellers to other countries, most particularly for those traveling to or from Kerala, West Bengal, or Bangladesh. Before travel, it is necessary to monitor the Sri Lankan Ministry of Health (Epidemiology Unit) website for travel advisories. Currently, screening is focused on passengers arriving from Kolkata and Kerala. It is essential to ensure that travel insurance covers medical evacuation and high-intensity supportive care, as Nipah management requires ICU facilities.

During the stay in an area of another country that is a high-risk area, avoid “Bat-Bitten” Fruit and do not purchase or consume fruit that has visible puncture marks, scratches, or missing chunks. In regions where fruit bats (Pteropus) are active, they often taste fruit and discard it, leaving saliva and virus behind. It is essential to only eat fruit that you have washed thoroughly with clean water and peeled yourself. Avoid pre-sliced fruit platters in street markets. Stay away from pig farms and bat roosting sites such as large trees where “flying foxes” gather. If you visit rural areas, do not touch surfaces under these trees which may be contaminated with bat urine.

Once a traveller returns to Sri Lanka, the authorities at the ports of entry have to be most vigilant. As for the traveller, it is best to self-monitor for about a month. The incubation period can be long. If you develop a fever, severe headache, or cough within three weeks of returning, isolate yourself immediately. If you seek medical care, the very first thing you should tell the doctor is: “I have recently returned from a region where Nipah cases were reported.”

Healthcare workers have to be extremely careful. This is crucial for doctors and nurses in Sri Lankan Outpatient Departments (OPD) and Emergency Treatment Units (ETUs). Careful medical triage of sorting out possible cases is mandatory. It is necessary to maintain a High Index of Suspicion: In any patient presenting with Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS) or Encephalitis (confusion, seizures, or coma), immediately check their travel history or contact with travellers. It is essential that the health staff do not rule out Nipah just because a patient has a “simple” cough or a “sore throat” as these often precede the neurological crash by 24–48 hours.

Infection Prevention and Control (IPC) measures have to be employed compulsorily. Because Nipah has a high rate of nosocomial (hospital-acquired) spread, the following “Standard Plus” precautions are mandatory for suspected cases:-

=Meticulous hand hygiene before and after patient contact.

=Use of medical masks and eye protection (goggles or face shields).

=Double gloving and the use of fluid-resistant gowns.

If a patient is suspected to suffer from Nipah virus infection, the patient needs to be moved to a dedicated isolation ward immediately. Do not “cohort” (group) them with other encephalitis or flu patients until Nipah is ruled out by PCR. Treat all bodily fluids (blood, urine, saliva) as highly infectious biohazards. Use 0.5% sodium hypochlorite for surface disinfection. Under the Infectious Diseases Act, Nipah is a notifiable disease in Sri Lanka. Contact the regional Medical Officer of Health (MOH) or the Epidemiology Unit immediately upon suspicion. DO NOT WAIT FOR LAB CONFIRMATION.

One final but absolutely vital and life-saving declaration and truism is that the Nipah virus is very sensitive to common soaps and detergents. Regular handwashing with soap for at least 20 seconds is one of the most effective ways to break the chain of transmission, even for a virus that is this lethal.

Features

India shaping-up as model ‘Swing State’

Published

1 day ago

2026/01/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi with foreign political leaders at India’s 77th Republic Day celebrations. (PMO via PTI Photo)

The world of democracy is bound to be cheering India on as it conducts its 77th Republic Day celebrations. The main reasons ought to be plain to see; in the global South it remains one of the most vibrant of democracies while in South Asia it is easily the most successful of democracies.

Besides, this columnist would go so far as to describe India as a principal ‘Swing State.’ To clarify the latter concept in its essentials, it could be stated that the typical ‘Swing State’ wields considerable influence and power regionally and globally. Besides they are thriving democracies and occupy a strategic geographical location which enhances their appeal for other states of the region and enables them to relate to the latter with a degree of equableness. Their strategic location makes it possible for ‘Swing States’ to even mediate in resolving conflicts among states.

More recently, countries such as Indonesia, South Africa and South Korea have qualified, going by the above criteria, to enter the fold.

For us in South Asia, India’s special merit as a successful democracy resides, among other positives, in its constitutionally guaranteed fundamental rights. Of principal appeal in this connection is India’s commitment to secularism. In accordance with these provisions the Indian federal government and all other governing entities, at whatever level, are obliged to adhere to the principle of secularism in governance.

That is, governing bodies are obliged to keep an ‘equidistance’ among the country’s religions and relate to them even-handedly. They are required to reject in full partiality towards any of the country’s religions. Needless to say, practitioners of minority religions are thus put at ease that the Indian judiciary would be treating them and the adherents of majority religions as absolute equals.

To be sure, some politicians may not turn out to be the most exemplary adherents of religious equality but in terms of India’s constitutional provisions any citizen could seek redress in the courts of law confidently for any wrongs inflicted on her on this score and obtain it. The rest of South Asia would do well to take a leaf from India’s Constitution on the question of religious equality and adopt secularism as an essential pillar of governance. It is difficult to see the rest of South Asia settling its religious conflicts peacefully without making secularism an inviolable principle of governance.

The fact is that the Indian Constitution strictly prohibits discriminatory treatment of citizens by the state on religious, racial, caste, sex or place of birth grounds, thus strengthening democratic development. The Sri Lankan governing authorities would do well to be as unambiguous and forthright as their Indian counterparts on these constitutional issues. Generally, in the rest of South Asia, there ought to be a clear separation wall, so to speak, between religion and politics.

As matters stand, not relating to India on pragmatic and cordial terms is impossible for almost the rest of the world. The country’s stature as a global economic heavyweight accounts in the main for this policy course. Although it may seem that the US is in a position to be dismissive of India’s economic clout and political influence at present, going forward economic realities are bound to dictate a different policy stance.

India has surged to be among the first four of global economic powers and the US would have no choice but to back down in its current tariff strife with India and ensure that both countries get down to more friction-free economic relations.

In this connection the EU has acted most judiciously. While it is true that the EU is in a diplomatic stand-off of sorts with the US over the latter’s threat to take over Greenland and on questions related to Ukraine, it has thought it best to sew-up what is described as an historic free trade agreement with India. This is a truly win-win pact that would benefit both parties considering that together they account for some 25 percent of global GDP and encompass within them 3 billion of the world’s population.

The agreement would reduce trade tariffs between the states and expand market access for both parties. The EU went on record as explaining that the agreement ‘would support investment flows, improve access to European markets and deepen supply chain integration’.

Besides, the parties are working on a draft security and defence partnership. The latter measure ought to put the US on notice that India and the EU would combine in balancing its perceived global military predominance. The budding security partnership could go some distance in curbing US efforts to expand its power and influence in particularly the European theatre.

Among other things, the EU-India trade agreement needs to be seen as a coming together of the world’s foremost democracies. In other words it is a notable endorsement of the democratic system of government and a rebuffing of authoritarianism.

However, the above landmark agreement is not preventing India from building on its ties with China. Both India and China are indicating in no uncertain terms that their present cordiality would be sustained and further enriched. As China’s President Xi observed, it will be a case of the ‘dragon and the elephant dancing together.’

Here too the pragmatic bent in Indian foreign policy could be seen. In economic terms both countries could lose badly if they permit the continuation of strained ties between them. Accordingly, they have a common interest in perpetuating shared economic betterment.

It is also difficult to see India rupturing ties with the US over Realpolitik considerations. Shared economic concerns would keep the US and India together and the Trump administration is yet to do anything drastic to subvert this equation, tariff battles notwithstanding.

Although one would have expected the US President to come down hard on India over the latter’s continuing oil links with Russia, for instance, the US has guarded against making any concrete and drastic moves to disrupt this relationship.

Accordingly, we are left to conclude from the foregoing that all powers that matter, whether they be from the North or South, perceive it to be in their interests to keep their economic and other links with India going doubly strong. There is too much to lose for them by foregoing India’s friendship and goodwill. Thus does India underscore its ‘Swing State’ status.

Features

Securing public trust in public office: A Christian perspective – Part III

Published

1 day ago

2026/01/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Professor, Dept of Public & International Law, Faculty of Law, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka and independent member, Constitutional Council of Sri Lanka (January 2023 to January 2026)

This is an adapted version of the Bishop Cyril Abeynaike Memorial Lecture delivered on 14 June 2025 at the invitation of the Cathedral Institute for Education and Formation, Colombo, Sri Lanka.

(Continued from yesterday)

Conviction

I now turn to my third attribute, which is conviction. We all know that we can have different types of convictions. Depending on our moral commitments, we may think of convictions as good or bad. From the Bible, the convictions of Saul and the contrasting convictions of Paul (Saul was known as Paul after his conversion) provide us with an excellent illustration of the different convictions and value commitments we may have. As Christians we are required to be convinced about the values of the Kingdom of God, such as truthfulness and rationality, the first and second attributes that I spoke of. We are also called to act, based on our convictions in all that we do.

I used to associate conviction with fearlessness, courage or boldness. But in the last two to three years of my own life, I have had the opportunity to think more deeply about the idea of conviction and, increasingly, I am of the view that conviction helps us to stand by certain values, despite our fears, anxieties or lack of courage. Conviction forecloses possibilities of doing what we think is the wrong thing or from giving up. Recall here the third example I referred to, of Lord Wilberforce and his efforts at abolishing the slave trade and slavery. He had to persevere, despite numerous failures, which he clearly did. In my own experiences, whether at the university or at the Constitutional Council, failures, hopelessness, fear or anxiety are real emotions and states of mind that I have had to deal with. In Sri Lanka, if convictions about truth, rationality and justice compel a public official to speak truth to power and act rationally, chances are that such public official has gone against the status quo and given people with real human power, reason to harm them. Acting out of conviction, therefore, can easily give rise to a very human set of reactions – of fear for oneself and for one’s family’s safety, anxiety about grave consequences, including public embarrassment and, sometimes, even regret about taking on the responsibilities that one has taken on. In such situations, such public officials, from what I have noticed, do not ever regret acting out of conviction, but rather struggle with the implications and the consequences that may follow.

When we consider the work of Lord Wilberforce, Lalith Ambanwela and Thulsi Madonsela we can see the ways in which their convictions helped them to persist in seeking the truth, in remaining rational and in seeking justice. They demonstrate to us that conviction about truth and justice pushes and even compels us to stand by those ideals and discharge our responsibilities in a principled and ethical way. Convictions help us to do so, even when the odds are stacked against us and when the status quo seems entrenched and impossible to change. This is well illustrated in how Wilberforce persisted with his attempts at law reform, despite the successive failures.

Importantly, some public officials saw the results of acting out of conviction in their lifetime, but others did not. Wilberforce saw the results of his work in his lifetime. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German theologian who opposed Hitler’s rule, was executed, by hanging, by the Nazi German state, a couple of weeks before Hitler committed suicide. Paul spent the last stage of his life as a prisoner of the Romans and was crucified. These examples suggest that conviction compels us to action, regardless of our chances of success, and for some of us, even unto death. Yet, conviction gives us hope about the unknown future. Conviction, indeed, is a very powerful human attribute.

I will not go into this, but the Christian faith offers much in terms of how a public official may survive in such difficult situations, as has been my own experience thus far.

Critical Introspection

I chose critical introspection as the fourth attribute for two reasons. One, I think that the practice of critical introspection by public officials is a way of being mindful of our human limitations and second it is a way in which we can deepen and renew our commitment to public service. Critical introspection, therefore, in my view, is essential for securing public trust and it is an attribute that I consider to be less and less familiar among public officials.

In Jesus, and in the traditions of the Church, we find compelling examples of a commitment to critical introspection. During his Ministry, he was unapologetic about taking time off to engage in prayer and self-reflection. He intentionally went away from the crowds. His Ministry was only for three years and he was intentional about identifying and nurturing his disciples. These practices may have made Jesus less available, perhaps less ‘productive’ and perhaps even less popular. However, this is the approach that Jesus role-modelled and I would like to suggest to you today, that there is value in this approach and much to emulate. Similarly, the Biblical concept of the Sabbath has much to offer to public officials even from a secular perspective in terms of rest, stepping away from work, of refraining from ‘doing’ and engaging with the spiritual realm.

Importantly, critical introspection helps us to anticipate that we are bound to make mistakes. no matter how diligent we may be and of our blind spots. Critical introspection creates space for truth, rationality and conviction to continue to form us into public officials who can secure public trust and advance it.

In contrast, I have found, in my work, that many embrace, without questioning, a relentless commitment to working late hours and over the weekends. This is, of course, at the cost of their personal well-being, and, equally importantly, of the well-being of their families. Relentless hard work, at the cost of health and personal relationships, is commonly valorised, rather than questioned, from what I can see, ironically, even in the Church.

One of the greatest risks of public officials not engaging in critical introspection is that they may lose the ability to see how power corrupts them or they may end up taking themselves too seriously. I have seen these risks manifest in some public officials that I work with – power makes them blind to their own abuse of power and they consider themselves to be above others and beyond reproach.

Where a public official does not practice critical introspection, the trappings of public office can place them at risk of taking themselves too seriously and losing their ability to remain service-oriented. Recall the trappings of high constitutional office – the security detail, the protocol and sometimes the kowtowing of others. It is rare for us to see public officials who respond to these trappings of public office lightly and with grace. Unfortunately for us, we have seen many who thrive in it. In my own work, I have come across public officials who are extremely particular about their titles and do not hesitate to reprimand their subordinates if they miss addressing them by one of their titles. Thankfully, I also know and work with public officials who are most uncomfortable with the trappings of public office and suffer it while preserving their attitude of humility and service.

Permit me to add a personal note here. In April 2022 a group of Christians and Catholics decided to celebrate Maundy Thursday by washing the feet of some members of the public. I was invited to come along. On that hot afternoon, in one corner of public place where people were milling about, the few of us washed the feet of some members of the public, including those who maintain the streets of Colombo. I do not know what they thought of our actions but I can tell you how it made me feel. The simple act of kneeling before a stranger and one who was very obviously very different to me, and washing their feet, had a deep impact on me. Many months later, when I was called, most unexpectedly, to be part of Sri Lanka’s Constitutional Council and had to struggle through that role for the better part of my term, that experience of washing feet of member of the public became a powerful and personal reminder to me of the nature of my Christian calling in public service. I do think that the Christian model of servant leadership has much to offer the world in terms of what we require of our public officials.

Compassion

Due to limitations of time, I will speak to the fifth attribute only briefly. It is about compassion – an aspect of love. Love is a complex multi-dimensional concept in Christianity and for today’s purposes, I focus on compassion, an idea that is familiar to our society more generally in terms of Karuna or the ability to see suffering in oneself and in others. The Gospels, at one point, record that when Jesus saw the crowds that he was ministering to, that he had compassion on them.

Of course, we know that the people are not always mere innocent victims of the abuse of power but can be active participants of the culture of patronage and corruption in our society. Nevertheless, for public officials to secure public trust, I think compassion, is essential. Compassion, however, is not about bending the rules, arbitrarily, or about showing favouritism, based on sympathy. In Sri Lanka we are hard pressed to find examples of compassion by public officials, at high levels, despite the horrors we have experienced in this land. However, in the everyday and at lower layers of public service, I do think there are powerful acts of compassion. An example that has stayed with me is about an unnamed police officer who is mentioned in the case of Yogalingam Vijitha v Wijesekera SC(FR) 186/2001 (SC Minutes 28 August 2002). In 2001, Yogalingam Vijitha was subject to severe forms of sexual torture by the police. After one episode of horrific torture, including the insertion of the tip of a plaintain-flower dipped in chilli to her vagina, the torturers left her with orders that she should not be given any water. This unnamed police officer, however, provided her with the water that she kept crying out for. In a case which records many horrific details about how Yogalingam Vijitha was tortured, this observation by the Court, about the unnamed police office, stands out as a very powerful example of compassion in public office.

Compassion for those who seek our services whether at university, at courts or at the kachcheri, should be an essential attribute for public officials.

Aspects not explored

There is much more that can be said about what a Christian perspective has to offer in terms of securing public trust in public office but due to limitations of time, I have only spoken about truthfulness, rationality, conviction, critical introspection and compassion – and that, too, in a brief way. I have not explored today several other important attributes, such as the Christian calling to prioritise the vulnerable and the Christian perspectives on confession, forgiveness and mercy that offers us a way of dealing with any mistakes that we might make as public officials. I have also not spoken of the need for authenticity – public officials ought to maintain harmony in the values that they uphold in their public lives with the values that they uphold their personal lives, too. Finally, I have not spoken of how these attributes are to be cultivated, including about the responsibility of the Church in cultivating these attributes, practice them and about how the Church ought to support public officials to do the same.

Securing Public Trust

Permit me to sum up. I have tried to suggest to you that cultivating a commitment to truthfulness, rationality, conviction about the values of public service, critical introspection and compassion – are essential if public officials are to secure public trust.

The crisis of 2022 is a tragic illustration of the pressing need in our society to secure trust in public office. In contrast, the examples of Thulsi Madonsela, former Public Protector of South Africa, of late Lalith Ambanwela, former Audit Superintendent from Sri Lanka and Lord Wilberforce illustrate that individual public officials who approach public service can and have made a significant difference, but, of course, at significant personal cost. Given the mandate of this memorial lecture, I drew from the Christian faith to justify and describe these five attributes. However, I do think that a similar secular justification is possible. Ultimately, secular or faith-based, we urgently need to revive a public and dynamic discourse of our individual responsibilities towards our collective existence, including about the ways in which can secure public trust in public office. I most certainly think that the future of our democracy depends on generating such a discourse and securing the trust of the public in public office.

If any of you here have been wondering whether I am far too idealistic or, as some have tried to say, ‘extreme’ in the standard that I have laid out for myself and others like me who hold public office – I will only say this. Most redeeming or beautiful aspects of our human existence have been developed mostly because individuals and collectives dared to dream of a better future, for themselves and for others. Having gone through what has easily been the toughest two-three years of my life, I know that, here in Sri Lanka, too, we have among us, individuals and collectives who dare to dream of a better future for this land and its peoples – and they are making an impact. Three years ago, you could have dismissed what I have had to say as being the musings of an armchair academic – but today, given my own experiences in public office with such individuals who have dared to dream of a better future for us, I can confidently tell you – these are not mere musings of an armchair academic but rather insights drawn from what I have been witness to.

(Concluded)

by Dinesha Samararatne