Features
Establishing a self-financing Disability Studies Unit a the University of Kelaniya
(Excerpted from Memories that Linger: My journey through the world of disability by Padmani Mendis)
We had entered the last decade of the millennium. And I had aged into my sixties. I was thoroughly involved in my work, travelling extensively. Often, I would be away for eight or nine months of the year; never continuously, always coming home in between assignments. And I was tired. Long standing diabetes and knees degenerating from Osteoarthrosis were taking their toll.
So I said to my Swedish friends that I would like to have others take over and now stay at home. Kristina would have none of it. “But you can’t stop teaching,” she said, “I understand what you say. Instead of you having to travel about, we will bring students to you.” This was the first of three remarkable incidents.
At about the same time, Einar’s replacement at WHO had discussed with me the need to institutionalise Community Based Rehabilitatuin (CBR) in academia. He asked me to look for a suitable university on my travels that will be willing to initiate CBR education. This was the second incident.
The third is when, not too long after this, I received a message from the Vice Chancellor of the University of Kelaniya in Sri Lanka, Professor M.M.J. Marasinghe, saying he would like to meet me. When we did so, he said that he would like to introduce disability as an area of interest to this university. Could I help him? Oh, could I!
A series of three coincidences. Destiny again?
I shared with the Vice Chancellor my work in CBR and my relationships with Radda Barnen, with WHO and with Uppsala University and their current thinking about the need for recognised education.
Prof. Marasinghe’s request was opportune. We could do something for sure. He brought in other faculty members for discussions. Prof. K. Tillekeratne, then Dean of the Faculty of Science was most supportive of the whole initiative. They would like to establish an educational activity in the Faculty of Medicine which was set up newly in 1991. Prof. Carlo Fonseka had been appointed its first Dean. He was invited to the discussions and was agreeable to the suggestion. This was now early January1993.
An International Delegation in Sri Lanka
One month later, a delegation of five headed by Yngve was in Sri Lanka. Others in the team were Einar’s successor in Geneva, Enrico Pupulin, Kristina Fenno from Radda Barnen, Tom Lagerwall from the Swedish Handicap Institute with whom also I had worked, and Ingrid Cornell, representing the Swedish International Development Agency which may provide financial support if the initiative was suitable.
I had arranged a programme for them to first meet Prof. Fonseka and decide on the preliminaries. With Prof. Fonseka later that morning the group met Prof. Marasinghe. In the afternoon Prof. Fonseka led the group to a long meeting with Prof. Arjuna Aluwihare, who was the Chairman of the University Grants Commission, UGC. Prof. Aluwihare and Yngve got on famously, sharing much in common as experienced medical academicians.
By the end of that meeting, a preliminary Memorandum of Understanding or MOU had been reached between the UGC and the international team. This was put into a draft document to be discussed further by each side before they next met.
The core of the draft was that a Disability Studies Unit (DSU) would be established at the Faculty of Medicine, Kelaniya University. It would function directly under the Dean. Its purpose would be CBR education, research and publications both at an international level and in Sri Lanka.
As an initial activity the DSU would organise and carry out over the next two years, two international courses in CBR, each six weeks in length, each for 20 – 25 participants. Financial support would be provided by SIDA and Radda Barnen and channelled through the International Child Health Unit or ICH of Uppsala University.
Details about how this would be done were also in the draft. When asked, the Swedish delegation made one request of Prof. Aluwihare. It was that I be given responsibility for the DSU and for the two initial CBR courses. Prof. Aluwihare looked at me and we smiled.
The same group met Prof. Aluwihare the next morning with further suggestions. The draft was finalised, made ready and signed by him and Yngve.
Late that afternoon, Yngve took a flight back to Sweden. All done and dusted within two days. The other team members stayed on until Friday, meeting relevant people for discussions. More information gathering really. Included was a field visit to a CBR project. We used this project later as one of the field study areas for the international course participants.
The Disability Studies Unit is Born
And so, the DSU came into being. Prof. Fonseka asked me to come in on an informal basis to get the DSU started until I was given a formal appointment. Prof. Fonseka was Professor of Physiology and I met him in his office. On this my first day he said to me, “Padmani, it will be easiest all round if I gave you space in this department.”
He took me to a large, spacious, airy room and said, “You can have this for the DSU.” It had a desk and a chair. I was happy with that. The post of “Course Director” was soon formally advertised and three applicants were interviewed. I took up my appointment on April 26, 1993.
There were two remarkable clauses in the Memorandum of Understanding. The first was that ICH (International Child Care Unit of the Unversity of Uppsala) would meet the cost of setting up the DSU. This included all the equipment we would need. Also, the salaries of three staff for the rest of the year, at the end of which Kelaniya University was expected to take over that cost.
It was this allocation that the Faculty used to employ for us Kodi and Senevi, two of my former physiotherapy colleagues. The three of us worked together to get the course going. They then participated in the first course to learn more about CBR. They became teachers on the local courses we organised.
Before he left, Yngve had asked me to make a list of the equipment that the Disability Studies Unit, DSU, would require and fax it to him as soon as possible. He said particularly, “Don’t forget to include a vehicle for your use.”
The second remarkable clause was that the two CBR courses were arranged on a “sell-buy” basis. The DSU sold each course wholesale to ICH to buy using funds provided by SIDA and Radda Barnen. This was Yngve’s innovation, with Prof. Aluwihare’s unhesitating concurrence. The DSU arranged the residential course programme, invited and hosted resource persons, estimated the cost of the course per participant and forwarded it to the ICH at Uppsala University.
ICH selected 20 – 25 international participants and forwarded to us information about them. We made arrangements for each participant’s return travel and made sure their itinerary and travel tickets reached them in time. Each was met at the airport and brought to the course venue and residence, the Mount Royal Beach Hotel, Mount Lavinia, then under Sri Lankan ownership.
ICH paid us for all these. On the first course the participants came from 12 countries. On the second, from 14 countries. The cooperation of Thomas Cook, Colombo was memorable indeed. There were no travel hitches for any single participant. That was their achievement.
The First International Course on Community-Based Rehabilitation
Yngve attended the first course to launch the cooperation and the course. In his honour, we asked the hotel to have all the flowers in blue (manel) and yellow (araliya) flowers. The hotel was amazed, remarking that these flowers are not expensive. To us it was not the cost, but the colours and the beauty of the flowers that was important. Blue and yellow are the colours of Sweden. The hotel had gone to town and placed them all over. Making the room quite festive and beautiful. We had large flags of both countries on each side of the top table.
We arranged travel and accommodation for our international resource persons in the same way. We invited Einar to both courses. He came willingly to share both his experience and his happiness about the whole thing. Other resource persons were “Baby” Estrella from the Philippines to share her experience of disability as a wheelchair user and Joy Valdez to share hers as a CBR pioneer in the same country.
For the second course and thereafter, we invited Joy as well as Javed Abidi from New Delhi to share his experience of disability and as that of a successful activist. We also had other international resource persons for specific modules. And eminent Sri Lankans for special topics.
Sri Lankan disabled people were always invited as resource persons as soon as we could, no later than the second day. There were a few participants who had never had prior exposure to disabled people. This was not surprising – those were the times.
The First Self-Financing Unit
There was a very significant and carefully planned outcome of this sell-buy agreement. Planned by Yngve. When the DSU costed each course, we could add a percentage of the total as the cost of organising it and of running it. This was profit that we maintained in our own bank account. The Faculty though, was responsible for it and only its staff could sign cheques. We could only see the monthly statements. We followed the same practice with all the local courses that we did.
Uppsala paid us in USD. For this, we were given permission by the Central Bank to maintain a USD account at the People’s Bank NRFC branch. An exceptional approval at that time. So the DSU (Disability Studies Unit) was wealthy! But we didn’t just accumulate this wealth. We used some of our profits to run our unit. We paid our own salaries, met the costs of running our own vehicle and hiring our own driver, and of all the material we needed for the unit. All fair and square and we donated a share to the Faculty. And we invested any to spare in fixed deposits so as to add to our capital.
The DSU was a profit-making venture. It was financially independent. And it was the first self-financing unit in our university system.
The DSU was the only section in the faculty that had its own vehicle. The Dean would ask for it whenever his was not available. Other faculty members felt free to do the same. Those were the early days of computers, and we had three; we had our fax machine, own phone line, photocopier, a library and absolutely all the equipment required to run the Unit. So it was no surprise that many faculty members were often in and out of our room. It was not long therefore that the DSU became “a part” of the faculty.
When that Memorandum of Understanding ended Yngve had retired and his replacement had taken over. He had not proved himself to SIDA so our MOU could not be extended. But the purpose of the MOU was achieved. DSU was now established in the faculty. It would grow.
And grow it did with increasing demands on our work. Made possible by Prof. Fonseka’s unstinting support. We ran two more similar international courses in the next three years. One was at the request of the two WHO Regional Offices for South East Asia and for the Western Pacific. The other we organised ourselves. I had still been doing international work and travelling. The DSU had good relationships with sponsors who had sent us participants over the three years. We advertised our course to these contacts. An adequate number purchased places on our course to enable us to run it independently.
By the time we completed just the four international activities, we had reached and prepared 89 participants from 27 countries to improve in one way or another, the situations and lives of countless disabled people in their own countries.
Features
Ethnic-related problems need solutions now
In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.
There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.
But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.
Core Principle
A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.
This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.
Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.
Equal Rights
Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.
The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.
Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.
The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.
Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.
Lose Trust
Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.
The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach
This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education
In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.
Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?
History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms
That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.
Institutional and Structural Gaps
Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.
This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.
Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?
Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.
Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality
Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.
At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:
“When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.
I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.
Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:
“It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”
Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.
Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?
In Conclusion
The following suggestions are put forward:
First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.
Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.
Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Aruni Samarakoon
Features
Smartphones and lyrics stands…
Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.
Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.
Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.
Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!
In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.
They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days
The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!
When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.
Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.
AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!
AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.
In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!
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