Features
Falling leaves – an autobiographical memoir of a high achiever

by LC Arulpragasam
(We begin excerpting today sections of an anthology of memoirs of LC Arulpragasam,
who at over 95-years of age is among the last surviving members of the old Ceylon Civil Service.
This introduction backgrounds his life and career)
I was born on November 5, 1927 to a Jaffna Tamil, Christian family. My father was Dr. A. R. Arulpragasam, a government medical doctor, and my mother was Mrs. Bertha Arulpragasam. I had three siblings: Dr. A.C. Arulpragasam, FRCS (Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons), Ms. Aruljothi (Bartlett) Arulpragasam (M.A. Educn) and my younger brother Jega Arulpragasam, a Computer Engineer. I was in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS) for 10 years. I then joined FAO (the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations) in 1962 and retired as Director of Agrarian Reform. I am currently the only surviving member of the family, at the age of 95 years.
I was blessed with ideal parents, a wonderful wife, excellent siblings, caring children and good friends the world over. I also have been blessed (no merit of mine) with more than my share of worldly gifts. I have tried to nurture these gifts to the best of my ability. I never learnt music but play the piano by ear and listen to a lot of classical music. I have been a pictorial photographer, winning awards at International Exhibitions, and have also designed a Ceylonese postage stamp. I became a passable painter in oils in my middle years and have, in fact, hand-painted the picture of fallen leaves on the cover of these memoirs. I have participated in a number of sports, including athletics (track), rugby, boxing, swimming, tennis, sailing, wind surfing and skiing.
I love the outdoor life, and especially being near water. I owned a canoe as a boy and have wandered down Lanka’s many waterways. I have swum off the beaches of all of Sri Lanka’s coasts and in many different oceans and seas. I have walked over 200 miles through the jungles of the Uva and Eastern Provinces, and also from Okanda in the Eastern Province through to the Yala Sanctuary in the Southern Province. In later years, I have been among the poppy growers in the jungles of the Burma/Thai border, as well as among the former head-hunters of Sarawak and Sabah. I have also been to the game reserves of Kenya, Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Namibia.
I married my classmate at the University, Ms. Lohini Saravanamuttu, whose parents came from the well-known Saravanamuttu and Chitty families. My wife unfortunately passed away in the year 2007, after 56 years of our married life. She was loving, generous, kind and forgiving. It was some time before I realized that I was married to the most decent human being that I have ever encountered in this world.
We have three children: Dr. Shyamala Abeyratne (PhD in Development Sociology), Dr. Jehan Arulpragasam (PhD in Economics) and Ms. Anjali Arulpragasam Ashley (Attorney-at-Law, Harvard University). They have all done well in their respective professions; but more importantly, they have turned out to be caring human beings, thanks to the example of their mother.
I went to Royal Prep and then to Royal College, Colombo: the latter from 1939-1946. I was fortunate to win many prestigious prizes at Royal, including the Dornhorst Memorial Prize for the Best All-Rounder and was also made Head Prefect of Royal College. I was also head of the Cadet Corps in Royal College, in command of 60 cadets, the highest rank a schoolboy could attain. In fact, my name figured the most number of times in the history of the school (for the greatest number of prestigious prizes won) engraved on the marble rolls of honour that adorn the walls of Royal College hall – this record has probably been beaten by now.
I was also active in sports, being Athletics Captain of Royal College and awarded College Colours in Athletics (Track) and Rugby, while also being a member of the House boxing, cricket and tennis teams. Having passed the SSC and HSC in the First Division (with ‘A’ in all four subjects at the HSC), I also passed first in the whole country in all three subjects offered at the University Entrance Examination (English, History and Political Science) and was offered the University Entrance Scholarship in respect of each of them.
I chose the scholarship in Political Science, although there was no degree in that subject at that time. It was a ‘sub’ of the degree in Economics (a subject that I hated back then); but I took the economics course for its political science ‘sub’ because of my passionate interest in the behavioral sciences. The degree course in Sociology began to be offered in the next year. I would have taken it, if it had been offered in my year.
My university career did not amount to much. The ‘problem’ was that I fell in love with my wife-to-be from the first day that we met at the University. I chased her unavailingly for the better part of two years. In my final year, we became an established couple, and I was able to return belatedly to my studies, passing first in my batch, but failing to get a first class. In the meantime, I pursued my sport interests and was awarded University Colours in Athletics (Track), Rugby and Boxing and was made Athletics Captain of the Ceylon University.
I was also the holder of two All-Ceylon Athletics (track) records in the 4 x 440 yards relay (with two different teams, in two different years) while still at the University: this was due to the merit of my relay team-mates rather than to me. I was also a strong swimmer, probably the best in Royal College and the University in my time; but unfortunately there were no Swimming Colours, either at Royal or in the University at that time. In fact, neither institution had a swimming pool in those days.
My career ambition was to be an academic and researcher. Although appointed as Assistant Lecture in Political Science for two years, there were no further openings in my field. Having also passed first in the batch in the Sociology degree, I was promised a post of Assistant Lecturer in Sociology by Professor Bryce Ryan, the Head of the Sociology Department. Unfortunately, since the post was not advertised that year or the next, I had no option but to sit for the CCS Exam, which was only three months away. I had just returned from a three-month trek in the jungles of Bintenne on a sociological survey of the Veddas. I was sick with severe dysentery contracted in the jungle. I had only three months to study for the CCS exam – and was only able to cover one-third of the syllabus. It was with great luck that I managed to pass first (in the whole country) in the CCS exam of that year.
The Sociology post in the University was subsequently advertised and I applied for it from the Civil Service – which was not done at that time, because the Ceylon Civil Service was considered more prestigious, with a higher salary. Only one post was advertised. The head of the Sociology Dept, Prof. Ryan insisted that I be appointed to that post; in fact, at an appointment meeting, he offered to resign if I was not appointed. He insisted that I would be the best candidate to lead the Sociology Department in the future.
It is worth noting that I was recommended for that one post by the Head of the Dept. of Sociology (Prof. Ryan) over Mr. S.J. Tambiah, who ultimately headed the Dept. of Social Anthropology at Harvard University in America. I turned down the appointment because Dr. Ralph Pieris was appointed to that one post. In the end, they created three posts (in order to get over Prof. Ryan’s objection that he would resign if I were not selected for the post advertised). Actually, this was part of a larger fight: whether the school of Sociology in Ceylon was going to be empirical research-oriented or not. I turned down the post on Prof. Ryan’s advice; he too resigned soon after.
In a curious manner, I was also later (in 1956) selected for a post as understudy to the Marketing Manager of Lever Bros. (Unilevers), on a starting salary that was six times higher than my salary in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS). I would have thus become Marketing Manager of the biggest commercial firm in Ceylon at the age of 29 years. This would have broken a glass ceiling of ‘British only’, as these top posts were reserved only for the British. I would have become the first Ceylonese to attain a Manager/Director level post in a big British company at that time. However, given my interests in economic and social development, I turned down that job offer too. I must also admit that I was shamed into turning down this offer because my father, who had always stressed service before self, who wrote to me deprecatingly, saying: “I cannot believe that any of my sons would stoop to filthy lucre like this”!
So, I decided to stick to the Ceylon Civil Service. It was a decision which I have never regretted because I was able to see and hear real people. I was fortunately able to navigate my own path within the CCS, taking only development-type jobs and specializing only in the agriculture sector. The latter was partly due to my own interests, but mainly because I felt that I could contribute most in that sector, since it provided a living to 70 percent of the national population at that time.
Ultimately in 1960/61, from my post in the Department of National Planning, I wrote a policy paper calling for a fundamental change in agricultural policy from our uneconomic policy of land development to a forward-looking policy of agricultural development. This was strongly opposed by both the Minister of Finance and Planning (Mr. Felix Bandaranaike) and the Hon. Prime Minister (Mrs. Sirimavo Bandaranaike), who believed fervently in past policy, which had been with us since pre-independence. I spent about three weeks persuading them to accept the (opposite) policy changes.
I argued for a policy of agricultural intensification, to take advantage of the HYVs (High Yield Varieties) that were becoming available at that time. I had in effect written a strategy for agricultural development in 1960, based on the coming green revolution and a policy to support it, given our smallholder agrarian system. The Prime Minister called a high-powered meeting of the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, Mr, C.P. de Silva, his Permanent Secretary and all his Departmental heads to discuss and agree upon a way forward. Mr. C.P. de Silva hotly contested each policy proposal – and even challenged the figures that I was using.
His argument collapsed when I showed that they were from his own Ministry’s reports. The meeting went on for two days, with Mr. C.P. de Silva shouting at me. In the end, he subsided, agreeing to all the policy changes that I was seeking. His departmental heads agreed with me – since I had worked with them on my policy proposals. He agreed even to publishing them all in what became the Short-Term Implementation Programme of 1961.
But in little over a week, the Minister, Mr. C.P. de Silva broke his agreement and threatened the Prime Minster that he would resign from her Government and cross the floor with 14 of his supporters, causing the fall of her Government. The Prime Minister had to give in. She called me to her office to thank me for my hard work and apologized to me because she had not been able to politically push my proposals through. As a result, the country missed the green revolution by 10 years!
I had fought the Minister of Finance and Planning, the Hon. Prime Minister and the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, all of whom had been strongly against my proposals. We had struggled to arrive at the agreed changes in agricultural policy. But now all my work had come to naught – for political reasons. I had taken the risk of venturing into the field of policy – because I had seen the possibility of Ceylon becoming self-sufficint in rice. May be, I presumed too much!
Now I had nowhere to go – except to purely administrative jobs. So, I decided to apply for development jobs abroad. However, being persuaded by the Prime Minister, I agreed to come back to Sri Lanka when and if she was in a position to carry out the policies we had agreed upon. Fortunately for me and my children, she was never able to fulfill her side of the agreement, because her government was voted out of office
I was appointed to the UNDP, New York, as Programme Officer, and in quick succession to a post with the FAO. Choosing the FAO job because of my interest in agricultural policy, I resigned from the CCS in 1962.
In my FAO capacity, I managed to set up the Agrarian Reform and Training Institute (now renamed the Kobbekaduwa Institute) in Ceylon, with FAO assistance. Later in Rome in 1970, I was appointed Senior Economist for Asia and the Far East in the Economic Analysis Division. In 1976, I was appointed Chief of the Land Tenure and Agrarian Reform Service at the Director level, being the youngest to be appointed to that level at that time. However, my career in FAO became blocked thereafter for various political reasons.
FAO at that time was highly compartmentalized into specialized technical fields, while the organization itself was becoming more bureaucratic, autocratic and politicized. Although the technical directors were highly qualified, they had PhDs from countries that had the opposite set of factor proportions to the small farmers of the developing world. They were accustomed to having plenty of land and access to capital, thus choosing strategies that best utilized these resources. But these are what around 70 percent of the farmers of the developing world did not have.
Hence, by a strange quirk of history, the most qualified FAO experts were the least qualified to help the farmers of the developing world. They were trained in countries which had the opposite factor proportions to those that the developing countries had. They were now called upon to cater to small farmers with little land, no capital, but with surplus labour.
Although completely boxed-in within the field of agrarian reform, my knowledge of agricultural problems and policies was much broader and deeper, due especially to my field work and agricultural planning experience in Sri Lanka. I felt strongly, for example, that FAO had no technologies nor improved farming systems for small and subsistence farmers, who make up some 70 percent of all farmers in the developing world. Fed up and frustrated, I simply handed in my resignation to FAO in 1987- two years before my time – and just walked away.
This represented for me, the greatest failure in my life, since with this impetuous decision, I had lost my only chance to change the policies of the international organizations relating to the farmers of the developing world. As in Sri Lanka, where I took on the Minister of Agriculture, the Minister of Finance and Planning and the Prime Minister herself, I should have taken on the Director-General of FAO. I had written a policy paper arguing that FAO’s policy towards the farmers of the developing countries was all wrong. But instead of confronting the Director-General with it, I chickened out (on the advice of the Director du Cabinet). I resigned from FAO in ‘surrender’ mode, afraid of the Director-General of FAO – to my lasting regret.
I also regret very much that I did not go to some other development institute to develop my own ideas about small farm development and publish them. I chickened out of this too, because I would have had to go to another country (England or Norway – where there were research institutes) and set up house alone there. Because of this rash decision to resign from FAO without confronting the Director-General, I went into a deep (mental) depression – because I had failed in my duty. I buried myself in international consulting. I found that I was much in demand by IFAD, which was based in Rome.
My main benefit from FAO was that we spent 30 years in Rome, giving our children a chance of growing up in Italy, with the advantage of a rich cultural life and fluency in three or four European languages. I also had a piece of land by a beautiful lake, where I planted vines and fruit trees, which bore abundantly. We continued to live in Rome for 10 years after I resigned from FAO, during which time I accepted international consultancies for about five months each year, working from home where feasible. I worked in Asia too, where I was able to visit my mother in Sri Lanka. In fact, I was in Sri Lanka when she passed away, following her fervent wish.
In 1995 my wife and I moved from Rome to Washington D.C., to be close to our children. But one by one, our children took off for international postings outside the USA. Hence, when my wife passed away in 2007, I had no family in Sri Lanka in my old age. So I decided to take up residence with my eldest daughter, in the Philippines.
Unlike other expatriates, my work has brought me regularly to Sri Lanka for nearly 40 years, from 1962 to 2000. This has enabled me to work with different governments over the years, also enabling me to keep in close touch with my friends. I continue these contacts by visiting Sri Lanka for about two months every year. Now that I have reached the age of 95 years, I have had to discontinue my visits to Sri Lanka. I now miss the country of my birth so much!
Features
Echo fades? NPP’s waning momentum in LG polls

The 2025 local government elections in Sri Lanka were expected to cement the National People’s Power (NPP) as the country’s emergent political force. However, the results delivered a more complex picture. Despite months of rising public frustration with traditional parties, the NPP saw a surprising loss of momentum—shedding over 2.3 million votes compared to their strong showing in the 2024 elections. This electoral drop has puzzled analysts and frustrated supporters, raising critical questions about political consistency, campaign strategy, and the evolving expectations of Sri Lanka’s voters.
Since 2019, the NPP, led by Anura Kumara Dissanayake, had rapidly ascended in popularity, drawing support from youth, professionals, and disillusioned citizens across ethnic and social lines. Its messaging of clean governance, economic equity, and systemic reform resonated strongly in the wake of multiple national crises—from the 2019 Easter attacks to the crippling financial collapse of 2022.
In the aftermath of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s resignation and widespread protests that rocked the island in 2022, the NPP emerged as a political vessel for anti-establishment sentiment. Many expected the 2025 local government elections to be a stepping-stone to national dominance. (See table 1: Source: https://election.newsfirst.lk/#/parties)
The Vote Drop Explained
* The loss of 2.3 million votes has several potential explanations:
* Turnout Fatigue: Voter turnout was markedly lower than in the presidential elections, particularly in urban centres and among younger demographics—traditionally NPP strongholds.
* Fragmented Opposition: Other opposition parties, including the SJB and remnants of SLFP factions, may have regained localised influence, especially in rural electorates.
* Unrealised Expectations: Some voters, who rallied behind the NPP in national-level discourse, may have doubted its practical ability to manage local governance.
* Campaign Gaps: Compared to the presidential elections, the local campaign lacked grassroots mobilisation and visibility in several key districts.
* Implications for Presidential Race
While the NPP remains a key contender for the next presidential election, the 2025 local poll results suggest it cannot rely solely on public dissatisfaction to drive voter loyalty. Its ability to build consistent, multi-layered support—across local, provincial, and national levels—may determine its viability as a governing force.
The results of the 2025 local government elections are neither a death knell nor a coronation for the NPP. Rather, they serve as a sobering checkpoint in the party’s political journey. The challenge now is to reconnect with its disillusioned base, sharpen its policy delivery at the grassroots, and reassert itself, not just as a movement—but as a government-in-waiting.
Sri Lanka’s 2025 local government elections mark a significant turning point in the nation’s political trajectory. After decades of domination by traditional parties, such as the United National Party (UNP), the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), and their offshoots, a new political force—the National People’s Power (NPP)—has emerged as a credible challenger. Fuelled by public frustration over economic mismanagement, corruption, and a deepening trust deficit in governance, the NPP’s ascent signals not merely a change in voter preference but a seismic shift in political culture.
This article analyzes the key patterns emerging from the 2025 local government polls, drawing comparisons with historical voting trends from 1982 to 2024. It explores the urban-rural divide, the shifting role of ethnic minority parties, and the unprecedented surge in support for the NPP. Through this lens, we assess the long-term implications for Sri Lanka’s democratic institutions, party system, and policy direction.
Since gaining independence in 1948, Sri Lanka’s political landscape has been predominantly shaped by two major parties: the United National Party (UNP) and the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP). These parties alternated in power for decades, cultivating strong patronage networks and deep-rooted voter bases. While the UNP positioned itself as centre-right and pro-business, the SLFP leaned toward centre-left policies and a populist approach. Their dominance, however, was periodically challenged by splinter groups and coalitions, such as the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), Tamil political parties, and more recently, the Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna (SLPP), founded by the Rajapaksa family.
The 1970s and 1980s were marked by political instability, including the JVP insurrections, ethnic tensions, and the outbreak of a protracted civil war in 1983. These events shifted the focus of governance toward national security and centralised power. The civil war’s end in 2009 created new political opportunities, especially for the Rajapaksas, whose military victory brought them immense popularity. The SLPP, a breakaway from the SLFP, capitalised on this sentiment to dominate national politics by 2019.
However, the veneer of stability began to crack following the Easter Sunday attacks in 2019, the economic collapse of 2022, and a series of mass protests that culminated in the resignation of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa. These events exposed the fragility of state institutions, widespread corruption, and policy incoherence. The public’s growing disillusionment with mainstream parties created fertile ground for alternative political movements.
The National People’s Power (NPP), an alliance led by the formerly radical JVP and allied civil society actors, emerged as a legitimate alternative. With a platform centred on good governance, anti-corruption, youth empowerment, and economic justice, the NPP resonated particularly with urban voters, the educated middle class, and politically disenchanted youth. Their performance in the 2025 local government elections reflects this broader national mood and demands a serious examination of whether Sri Lanka is entering a post-partisan or realigned political era.
Over the past four decades, Sri Lanka’s political stage has experienced seismic shifts — from the firm grip of traditional powerhouses, like the United National Party (UNP) and the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), to a recent wave of public support for reformist newcomers like the National People’s Power (NPP).
From Dominance to Decline: UNP and SLFP’s Waning Appeal
In the early 1980s, the UNP was riding high, securing over half the vote in national elections. But as the years progressed, public dissatisfaction began to creep in. By 1994, after over a decade of UNP-led rule, marked by civil unrest and economic concerns, voters decisively turned to the SLFP, handing it a landslide victory with over 62% of the vote. This marked the beginning of a back-and-forth tug-of-war between the two traditional giants.
From 2005 to 2015, elections were closely fought. The SLFP, supported by a strong rural base and popular policies, held a slight edge. However, in 2015, a wave of frustration over governance saw the UNP bounce back. The contest remained tight until the SLFP once again gained ground in 2019.
2024: A System in Flux
By 2024, the grip of both the UNP and SLFP had visibly weakened. In one round of results, the SLFP led with 42.3% while the UNP lagged behind at 32.75%. In another, the gap widened even further, with the SLFP reaching nearly 56% of the vote. These figures, however, painted only part of the picture. Beneath the surface, a deeper shift was brewing — the emergence of a third force.
Urban-Rural Divide Becomes Clearer
The NPP made sweeping gains in urban areas like Colombo, Gampaha, Kalutara, and Kandy. Educated young voters, professionals, and middle-class families — hit hard by job losses and rising living costs — turned to the NPP’s promise of clean governance and reform.
In contrast, rural regions, particularly in the South and North Central areas, still leaned toward the SLPP and SJB (Samagi Jana Balawegaya), albeit with thinner margins than in previous years. Old loyalties and patronage networks seemed to persist, though weakening steadily.
Ethnic Politics and Emerging National Themes
Tamil political parties, particularly the Illankai Tamil Arasu Kachchi (ITAK), held their ground in the Northern and Eastern Provinces, winning most local seats in places like Jaffna and Batticaloa. However, voter turnout was low, signalling deep political disillusionment.
Interestingly, the NPP also made modest inroads in these regions, suggesting its message is resonating across ethnic lines, particularly among younger and more urbanised voters.
Economic Anger Fuels Political Upheaval
The steep decline of the SLPP has been linked directly to the economic crisis, where food, fuel, and medicine shortages led to the 2022–2023 protests known as Aragalaya. The ruling party’s failure to stabilise the economy appears to have cost them dearly, aligning with global trends where poor governance results in electoral punishment.
While the SJB made some gains, especially in southern regions, it couldn’t fully capitalise on voter frustration. Analysts suggest this may be due to its perceived links to the old UNP, vague policy directions, and lack of a bold vision.
End of Bipolar Politics?
The rise of the NPP signals the beginning of a new political era. For decades, Sri Lankan politics was defined by a two-party rivalry — UNP vs. SLFP, and later SLPP vs. SJB. Now, the landscape is tripolar, and possibly moving toward a multiparty democracy where ideas and reform matter more than family legacies and party loyalty.
Young, first-time voters and professionals are looking for issue-based politics: anti-corruption, economic stability, and public accountability. The NPP seems to be answering that call — for now.
A New Chapter Begins
In short, Sri Lanka is witnessing a political transformation. The old guard is losing ground. A new generation of voters is demanding answers, not slogans. And if the 2025 local elections are anything to go by, the future may well belong to those who listen, adapt, and lead with integrity.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT , Malabe. He is also the author of the “Doing Social Research and Publishing Results”, a Springer publication (Singapore), and “Samaja Gaveshakaya (in Sinhala). The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the institution he works for. He can be contacted at saliya.a@slit.lk and www.researcher.com)
Features
A plural society requires plural governance

The local government elections that took place last week saw a consolidation of the democratic system in the country. The government followed the rules of elections to a greater extent than its recent predecessors some of whom continue to be active on the political stage. Particularly noteworthy was the absence of the large-scale abuse of state resources, both media and financial, which had become normalised under successive governments in the past four decades. Reports by independent election monitoring organisations made mention of this improvement in the country’s democratic culture.
In a world where democracy is under siege even in long-established democracies, Sri Lanka’s improvement in electoral integrity is cause for optimism. It also offers a reminder that democracy is always a work in progress, ever vulnerable to erosion and needs to be constantly fought for. The strengthening of faith in democracy as a result of these elections is encouraging. The satisfaction expressed by the political parties that contested the elections is a sign that democracy in Sri Lanka is strong. Most of them saw some improvement in their positions from which they took reassurance about their respective futures.
The local government elections also confirmed that the NPP and its core comprising the JVP are no longer at the fringes of the polity. The NPP has established itself as a mainstream party with an all-island presence, and remarkably so to a greater extent than any other political party. This was seen at the general elections, where the NPP won a majority of seats in 21 of the country’s 22 electoral districts. This was a feat no other political party has ever done. This is also a success that is challenging to replicate. At the present local government elections, the NPP was successful in retaining its all-island presence although not to the same degree.
Consolidating Support
Much attention has been given to the relative decline in the ruling party’s vote share from the 61 percent it secured in December’s general election to 43 percent in the local elections. This slippage has been interpreted by some as a sign of waning popularity. However, such a reading overlooks the broader trajectory of political change. Just three years ago, the NPP and its allied parties polled less than five percent nationally. That they now command over 40 percent of the vote represents a profound transformation in voter preferences and political culture. What is even more significant is the stability of this support base, which now surpasses that of any rival. The votes obtained by the NPP at these elections were double those of its nearest rival.
The electoral outcomes in the north and east, which were largely won by parties representing the Tamil and Muslim communities, is a warning signal that ethnic conflict lurks beneath the surface. The success of the minority parties signals the different needs and aspirations of the ethnic and religious minority electorates, and the need for the government to engage more fully with them. Apart from the problems of poverty, lack of development, inadequate access to economic resources and antipathy to excessive corruption that people of the north and east share in common with those in other parts of the country, they also have special problems that other sections of the population do not have. These would include problems of military takeover of their lands, missing persons and persons incarcerated for long periods either without trial or convictions under the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act (which permits confessions made to security forces to be made admissible for purposes of conviction) and the long time quest for self-rule in the areas of their predominance
The government’s failure to address these longstanding issues with urgency appears to have caused disaffection in electorate in the north and east. While structural change is necessarily complex and slow, delays can be misinterpreted as disinterest or disregard, especially by minorities already accustomed to marginalisation. The lack of visible progress on issues central to minority communities fosters a sense of exclusion and deepens political divides. Even so, it is worth noting that the NPP’s vote in the north and east was not insignificant. It came despite the NPP not tailoring its message to ethnic grievances. The NPP has presented a vision of national reform grounded in shared values of justice, accountability, development, and equality.
Translating electoral gains into meaningful governance will require more than slogans. The failure to swiftly address matters deemed to be important by the people of those areas appears to have cost the NPP votes amongst the ethnic and religious minorities, but even here it is necessary to keep matters in perspective. The NPP came first in terms of seats won in two of the seven electoral districts of the north and east. They came second in five others. The fact that the NPP continued to win significant support indicates that its approach of equity in development and equal rights for all has resonance. This was despite the Tamil and Muslim parties making appeals to the electorate on nationalist or ethnic grounds.
Slow Change
Whether in the north and east or outside it, the government is perceived to be slow in delivering on its promises. In the context of the promise of system change, it can be appreciated that such a change will be resisted tooth and nail by those with vested interests in the continuation of the old system. System change will invariably be resisted at multiple levels. The problem is that the slow pace of change may be seen by ethnic and religious minorities as being due to the disregard of their interests. However, the system change is coming slow not only in the north and east, but also in the entire country.
At the general election in December last year, the NPP won an unprecedented number of parliamentary seats in both the country as well as in the north and east. But it has still to make use of its 2/3 majority to make the changes that its super majority permits it to do. With control of 267 out of 339 local councils, but without outright majorities in most, it must now engage in coalition-building and consensus-seeking if it wishes to govern at the local level. This will be a challenge for a party whose identity has long been built on principled opposition to elite patronage, corruption and abuse of power rather than to governance. General Secretary of the JVP, Tilvin Silva, has signaled a reluctance to form alliances with discredited parties but has expressed openness to working with independent candidates who share the party’s values. This position can and should be extended, especially in the north and east, to include political formations that represent minority communities and have remained outside the tainted mainstream.
In a plural and multi-ethnic society like Sri Lanka, democratic legitimacy and effective governance requires coalition-building. By engaging with locally legitimate minority parties, especially in the north and east, the NPP can engage in principled governance without compromising its core values. This needs to be extended to the local government authorities in the rest of the country as well. As the 19th century English political philosopher John Stuart Mill observed, “The worth of a state in the long run is the worth of the individuals composing it,” and in plural societies, that worth can only be realised through inclusive decision-making.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Commercialising research in Sri Lanka – not really the healthiest thing for research

In the early 2000s, a colleague, returning to Sri Lanka after a decade in a research-heavy first world university, complained to me that ‘there is no research culture in Sri Lanka’. But what exactly does having a ‘research culture’ mean? Is a lot of funding enough? What else has stopped us from working towards a productive and meaningful research culture? A concerted effort has been made to improve the research culture of state universities, though there are debates about how healthy such practices are (there is not much consideration of the same in private ‘universities’ in Sri Lanka but that is a discussion for another time). So, in the 25 years since my colleague bemoaned our situation, what has been happening?
What is a ‘research culture’?
A good research culture would be one where we – academics and students – have the resources to engage productively in research. This would mean infrastructure, training, wholesome mentoring, and that abstract thing called headspace. In a previous Kuppi column, I explained at length some of the issues we face as researchers in Sri Lankan universities, including outdated administrative regulations, poor financial resources, and such aspects. My perspective is from the social sciences, and might be different to other disciplines. Still, I feel that there are at least a few major problems that we all face.
Number one: Money is important.
Take the example American universities. Harvard University, according to Harvard Magazine, “received $686.5 million in federally sponsored research grants” for the fiscal year of 2024 but suddenly find themselves in a bind because of such funds being held back. Research funds in these universities typically goes towards building and maintenance of research labs and institutions, costs of equipment, material and other resources and stipends for graduate and other research assistants, conferences, etc. Without such an infusion of money towards research, the USA would not have been able to attracts (and keeps) the talent and brains of other countries. Without a large amount of money dedicated for research, Sri Lankan state universities, too, will not have the research culture it yearns for. Given the country’s austere economic situation, in the last several years, research funds have come mainly from self-generated funds and treasury funds. Yet, even when research funds are available (they are usually inadequate), we still have some additional problems.
Number two: Unending spools of red tape
In Sri Lankan universities red tape is endless. An MoU with a foreign research institution takes at least a year. Financial regulations surrounding the award and spending of research grants is frustrating.
Here’s a personal anecdote. In 2018, I applied for a small research grant from my university. Several months later, I was told I had been awarded it. It comes to me in installments of not more than Rs 100,000. To receive this installment, I must submit a voucher and wait a few weeks until it passes through various offices and gains various approvals. For mysterious financial reasons, asking for reimbursements is discouraged. Obviously then, if I were working on a time-sensitive study or if I needed a larger amount of money for equipment or research material, I would not be able to use this grant. MY research assistants, transcribers, etc., must be willing to wait for their payments until I receive this advance. In 2022, when I received a second advance, the red tape was even tighter. I was asked to spend the funds and settle accounts – within three weeks. ‘Should I ask my research assistants to do the work and wait a few weeks or months for payment? Or should I ask them not to do work until I get the advance and then finish it within three weeks so I can settle this advance?’ I asked in frustration.
Colleagues, who regularly use university grants, frustratedly go along with it; others may opt to work with organisations outside the university. At a university meeting, a few years ago, set up specifically to discuss how young researchers could be encouraged to do research, a group of senior researchers ended the meeting with a list of administrative and financial problems that need to be resolved if we want to foster ‘a research culture’. These are still unresolved. Here is where academic unions can intervene, though they seem to be more focused on salaries, permits and school quotas. If research is part of an academic’s role and responsibility, a research-friendly academic environment is not a privilege, but a labour issue and also impinges on academic freedom to generate new knowledge.
Number three: Instrumentalist research – a global epidemic
The quality of research is a growing concern, in Sri Lanka and globally. The competitiveness of the global research environment has produced seriously problematic phenomena, such as siphoning funding to ‘trendy’ topics, the predatory publications, predatory conferences, journal paper mills, publications with fake data, etc. Plagiarism, ghost writing and the unethical use of AI products are additional contemporary problems. In Sri Lanka, too, we can observe researchers publishing very fast – doing short studies, trying to publish quickly by sending articles to predatory journals, sending the same article to multiple journals at the same time, etc. Universities want more conferences rather than better conferences. Many universities in Sri Lanka have mandated that their doctoral candidates must publish journal articles before their thesis submission. As a consequence, novice researchers frequently fall prey to predatory journals. Universities have also encouraged faculties or departments to establish journals, which frequently have sub-par peer review.
Alongside this are short-sighted institutional changes. University Business Liankage cells, for instance, were established as part of the last World Bank loan cycle to universities. They are expected to help ‘commercialise’ research and focuses on research that can produce patents, and things that can be sold. Such narrow vision means that the broad swathe of research that is undertaken in universities are unseen and ignored, especially in the humanities and social sciences. A much larger vision could have undertaken the promotion of research rather than commercialisation of it, which can then extend to other types of research.
This brings us to the issue of what types of research is seen as ‘relevant’ or ‘useful’. This is a question that has significant repercussions. In one sense, research is an elitist endeavour. We assume that the public should trust us that public funds assigned for research will be spent on worth-while projects. Yet, not all research has an outcome that shows its worth or timeliness in the short term. Some research may not be understood other than by specialists. Therefore, funds, or time spent on some research projects, are not valued, and might seem a waste, or a privilege, until and unless a need for that knowledge suddenly arises.
A short example suffices. Since the 1970s, research on the structures of Sinhala and Sri Lankan Tamil languages (sound patterns, sentence structures of the spoken versions, etc.) have been nearly at a standstill. The interest in these topics are less, and expertise in these areas were not prioritised in the last 30 years. After all, it is not an area that can produce lucrative patents or obvious contributions to the nation’s development. But with digital technology and AI upon us, the need for systematic knowledge of these languages is sorely evident – digital technologies must be able to work in local languages to become useful to whole populations. Without a knowledge of the structures and sounds of local languages – especially the spoken varieties – people who cannot use English cannot use those devices and platforms. While providing impetus to research such structures, this need also validates utilitarian research.
This then is the problem with espousing instrumental ideologies of research. World Bank policies encourage a tying up between research and the country’s development goals. However, in a country like ours, where state policies are tied to election manifestos, the result is a set of research outputs that are tied to election cycles. If in 2019, the priority was national security, in 2025, it can be ‘Clean Sri Lanka’. Prioritising research linked to short-sighted visions of national development gains us little in the longer-term. At the same time, applying for competitive research grants internationally, which may have research agendas that are not nationally relevant, is problematic. These are issues of research ethics as well.
Concluding thoughts
In moving towards a ‘good research culture’, Sri Lankan state universities have fallen into the trap of adopting some of the problematic trends that have swept through the first world. Yet, since we are behind the times anyway, it is possible for us to see the damaging consequences of those issues, and to adopt the more fruitful processes. A slower, considerate approach to research priorities would be useful for Sri Lanka at this point. It is also a time for collective action to build a better research environment, looking at new relationships and collaborations, and mentoring in caring ways.
(Dr. Kaushalya Perera teaches at the Department of English, University of Colombo)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Kaushalya Perera
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