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From abolishing the Senate to adopting a third new constitution

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The 50-year Constitutional Odyssey:

by Rajan Philips

There are three infliction and, perhaps also, inflection points to this article. First, is the sequel to my article two weeks ago (Sunday Island, October 10) where I alluded to the possibility of Sri Lanka’s parliament restoring itself and changing the ways of the regime between now and the next elections. In a situation of unprecedented crises, changing the ways of the regime is more vital than waiting for a potential electoral regime change three years from now. That was my plea, if not contention. I did not write last week, so it is carryover business this week. It is also the first point of infliction on the always indulgent editor and the more ageing than ageless readers of English newspapers.

The second point emanates from the visit (also on October 10) by President Gotabaya Rajapaksa to the Gajaba Regiment Headquarters, at Saliyapura, Anuradhapura, to commemorate the 72nd Anniversary of the Sri Lankan Army. In his speech to mark the military occasion, President Rajapaksa included a promissory note on the Constitution, that he will be “bringing in (of) a new Constitution,” as he had promised in November 2019, and that it “will be delivered within the next year.” The President’s obiter of reassurance literally took away the wind out of whatever parliamentary reform sails that I might have been hoping to use for my unsolicited purpose.

The third and the most obviously inflexion point, thanks entirely to Dr. Nihal Jayawickrama and the article he wrote last Sunday (October 17), is the 50th anniversary of the death, on October 2, 1971, of the Senate of Ceylon at the young age of 24. It was death by legislative euthanasia, brutally premature at so young an age and for a body that bore no incurable ill. It was a rather bad riddance of a good body.

Dr. Jayawickrama’s commemorative piece is quite remarkable at many levels. He neither asserts that the Senate deserves what it got, nor is he patently critical that it was put down at all. He is fair in his account of the purpose for which the Senate was created and the manner in which it played its constitutionally assigned role despite its lopsided composition and nominating procedure. He does not cite Sir Ivor Jennings’s scholarly cynicism that an unelected Senate can only be either “mischievous” (when it goes against the elected House) or “superfluous” (when it passes what has already been passed by the House); nor does he refer to Dr. Colvin R de Silva’s forceful contention that the Senate that “frustrates the will of the people” was one of the “five major defects” of the Soulbury Constitution.

That contention alone was enough to indicate the Senate’s fate in the new constitution that was being prepared by the United Front government. What came as a surprise at that time was the manner of the Senate’s riddance by an amendment to the Soulbury Constitution rather than through the new constitution. What struck me in the story of that riddance recounted by Dr. Jayawickrama was the pattern of disownment by all the key players in the parliamentary drama that began with a Bill to amend the Soulbury Constitution to save the SLFP MP for Ratnapura, Nanda Ellawala, from expulsion over a conviction and imprisonment, and ended with a Bill to amend the same constitution to abolish the Senate. To wit, Dr. Colvin R de Silva who introduced the first Bill in parliament, in July 1970, made it a point to ‘disown’ the bill by indicating that the Bill had been drafted in the Ministry of Justice and not by ‘his’ Ministry of Constitutional Affairs. And the disclaimers continued even as the Senate was let to die.

Committee of Experts

Nihal Jayawickrama’s article also provides a foil for contrasting the current urge to create a new constitution with the circumstances 50 years ago when Sri Lanka began its long odyssey of constitutional makeovers. No one would have thought then that it would come this far and could go still further. His intervention is particularly striking because he might be the only person alive who was closest to the making of the First Republican Constitution of 1972. He is also expertly familiar with the genesis and entrenchment of the 1978 Constitution. And perhaps the only other constitutional scholar of the same vintage is Prof. Savitri Goonesekere. If I am not mistaken, I do not think there is anyone alive today, who was associated with the making of the 1978 Constitution.

On the other hand, and I do not say this to be uncharitable, in President in Gotabaya Rajapaksa, we have the first Sri Lankan to become the most powerful person in the country with the least familiarity with anything constitutional. And it gets worse. In 1970, Parliament was the master of the country’s constitutional destiny, not only by representation but also by virtue of its legal luminaries. The finest legal minds in the country were in parliament, with the House and the Senate combined. Today’s parliament is not only bereft of talent, but is also powerless in spite of the government’s two-thirds majority. Worse, it is totally sidelined from the making of the new constitution.

That task has been outsourced to a committee of experts none of whom are in parliament, or ever held any elected office. Without tracing the bio-data of individual committee members, I will not be too far off the mark to suggest that with the exception of Prof. GH Pieris, all the other members of the committee would have been in their early twenties at most when Sri Lanka began its constitutional odyssey in 1970. If they were all kids then, they would do well to read Dr. Jayawickrama’s article on the Senate and reflect on what they are about to do now as grownups in creating a new constitution for President Gotabaya Rajapaksa.

If they are also keeners, and they ought to be so to be considered ‘experts’, it is reasonable to assume that they would have by now had some discussions with Dr. Jayawickrama to benefit from his experience and expertise. If not, it’s a shame. It is a travesty that this government is hellbent on creating a new constitution without consulting with or getting advice from people like Prof. Savitri Goonesekere or Dr. Nihal Jayawickrama. Travesty though it is, it should not come as a surprise to anyone considering the way the government availed itself of expert advice on Covid-19.

The impetus for the constitutional change in 1970-72 came from a side remark (obiter) in a 1964 Privy Council ruling that highlighted the legislative limitations of the Sri Lankan (then Ceylon) parliament. Although the contentious Privy Council obiter had been around since 1964, it became a political issue in parliament only in 1969, and it became an election issue in the April 1970 elections. The landslide victory of the United Front Parties in 1970 and the appointment of Dr. Colvin R de Silva as Minister of Constitutional Affairs eventually led to Sri Lanka becoming a Republic with a new constitution in 1972.

The inspiration for the 1978 constitutional overhaul came almost entirely from JR Jayewardene’s idiosyncratic liking for a presidential system of government. He was fortuitously able to use the flexibility of the Colvin constitution to create a far more rigid constitution predicated on an elected executive presidential system. He was also fortunate in getting to be the country’s first and only executive president without an election. Ever since, the constitutional debate has been about abolishing or significantly modifying the presidential system. Until now. And nobody knows why there should be a new constitution now to continue the same presidential system.

Why a new constitution?

Do the members of the experts committee know why Sri Lanka needs a new constitution? Other than the reason that President Rajapaksa wants to have one to show that he kept his promise that no one paid attention to. Going by some of the reasons for a new constitution provided by self-proclaimed patriots and nationalists, Sri Lanka needs a new constitution to enshrine its civilizational heritage. Its greatest heritage, Buddhism, needs no textual enshrinement by a committee of worldly experts. Constitutionally, or textually, does it mean that Chapter II of the Constitution will be expanded to fill a whole page instead of the four and half lines there are now? How will that ennoble an already great and noble religion, or edify its faithful followers?

A starkly different reason is apparently to constitutionally enshrine the implications of the 2009 war victory over the LTTE? How is that going to be textualized; in the preamble or Svasti to the current Constitution? Will it be before or after the assurances about Human Rights and the Independence of the Judiciary, in the preamble, that is? Is the purpose of enshrining triumphalism to ward off outside calls for investigating war crimes allegations? How can new constitutional provisions prevent anybody from saying or doing anything outside the country? Can a new constitution prevent another Easter tragedy, or will it unpack secrets of the last one? Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith is in no mood to trust any this-worldly Sri Lankan government or leaders. He is warning about curses and he is calling for divine intervention by the God of Israel and is looking for intercession by the silver-tongued Saint of Padua.

When the debate was about abolishing the presidency the counter-argument was that the presidency must be retained to check and contain the devolved provinces. The key players in the current Administration including President Rajapaksa himself were strong proponents of abolishing the Provincial Councils and rescinding the 13th Amendment. Now there are no active Provincial Councils to abolish as they are all dissolved. And with the government’s two-thirds majority the PCs can be abolished the same way the Senate was abolished 50 years ago. There might be a snag though if the courts were to say that Provincial concurrence is needed for their abolishing even though no concurrence is needed for their indefinite dissolution.

Surprisingly, or not, the government is now keen to go ahead with the Provincial Council elections as soon as possible, with or without a new constitution. Several reasons are being touted for this new shift. India’s hand in this is apparently not so hidden.

Second tier SLPPers are said to be getting restless without provincial offices and perks, and they need to be rewarded and kept contented. Third, a chief characteristic of Rajapaksa politics is the restless urge to keep validating themselves by constantly calling elections in the hope of winning them all the time. Their public support is said to be at its lowest point in the 16 years since they first hit the presidential jackpot in 2005. But they know it is better to test the pulse early and consolidate themselves before things get “worser and worser” as Muhammad Ali used to say. Finally, Provincial Council elections could be a trial run for a referendum that will be necessary for adopting a new constitution.

So, one needs to go back to the Committee of Experts and ask them – which of these reasons do they find to be so compelling as to devote their efforts and energies to producing a new constitution? It was the arrogance of two-thirds majority power that precipitated the abolishing of the Senate in 1971. Fifty years later, there is no palpable arrogance in spite of power, but there is great potential for its abuse out of abundance of ignorance. The question to the Committee of Experts is whether they are going to be aiding and abetting a potential abuse of power in creating a new constitution?

To circle back to the first point of infliction that I started with, it would be a fool’s paradise to discuss parliamentary reform when the government’s priority is to swing the constitutional wrecking ball at parliament and everything else that is still working in Sri Lanka. We can only wait and see how extensive the wreckage is going to be before talking about any reform. What if some or all in the Committee of Experts want to have no part of this wreckage and honourably excuse themselves from the Committee? Stranger things have happened.



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Ethnic-related problems need solutions now

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President Dissanayake in Jaffna

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

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Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach

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PM Amarasuriya

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

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Smartphones and lyrics stands…

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Diliup Gabadamudalige: Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc.

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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