Features

Inauspicious start and getting into my stride at the Victorian Bar

Published

3 years ago

2023/01/1

Excerpted from a Life in the Law by Nimal Wikramanayake

I drove into work on Monday, 13 October 1972 trembling with excitement. I walked into Owen Dixon Chambers and took the lift up to the third floor to DB’s chambers. DB took me next door and introduced me to a lady barrister, Lyn Opas, in a little dog-box next to his chambers. Next he took me across the corridor and introduced me to a young barrister by the name of John Coldrey. Coldrey had a criminal practice and was later to become the Director of Public Prosecutions, and still later he was appointed to the Supreme Court. Coldrey asked whether I would like to have a cup of coffee and suggested we go up to the lounge on the thirteenth floor.

He was a delightful man with an impish sense of humour. As we walked into the lounge the buzz of conversation suddenly stopped and all the barristers in that room turned around to stare at me. Not a word was spoken as John went up to the servery and ordered two cups of coffee. We sat down and the conversation resumed.

A number of barristers clustered around me and asked me what I was doing there. I told them that I had come to the Victorian Bar to give it some colour. This little quip of mine elicited guffaws of laughter. Coldrey and I then went back down to the third floor and I sat at my little desk. Peter Heerey had arranged for me to sign the Bar Roll on October 26 so that I was now a member of the educated unemployed for the next fortnight.

In the first few weeks, almost every single barrister I saw stopped me to ask me who I was and what I was doing in Owen Dixon Chambers. My stock reply was that I had come to the Bar to give it some colour, but I had to stop my little quip because it elicited some rather snide racist comments.

In the meantime, I was of considerable assistance to DB; having been an advocate/barrister for twelve years, I was extremely skilled in drafting legal documents. I whiled away my time drawing Statements of Claim in the Supreme Court, Particulars of Demand in the County Court, interrogatories and answers to interrogatories.

Mr Nkrumah

November was soon upon me and I sat at my desk for the first two weeks, looking longingly at my telephone and waiting for it to ring. When it did ring suddenly it was my former neighbour, Peter Allaway. While I was a solicitor, we rented a house in Jordan Street, Malvern, but once I made my decision to go to the Bar we moved into a small flat in Myamin Street, Armadale. Peter had been my neighbour in Jordan Street. He had a motor car collision case, or what is commonly called a “crash-and-bash” case.

Peter’s client was IPEC, a large firm of removalists. One of its drivers had been involved in a three-car collision and Peter retained me to appear for the driver, who was the second defendant in the Magistrates’ Court at Williamstown. Peter duly delivered the brief and I spent many an hour preparing it. I would show these young Australian barristers my mettle.

I got up the next morning and left home at 8.30 am for Williamstown. My knowledge of Australian roads was extremely limited as I had been but a year in Melbourne. I had pored over my Gregory’s Street Directory the previous night. Now I wandered up and down the Nepean highway for a couple of hours and was hopelessly lost. I finally arrived at a ferry and went across on it, arriving at the Williamstown Court at 11 am. I rushed into the Magistrates’ Court and learned to my chagrin that my case had been called and was about to be heard. I rushed in and took my seat at the Bar table when two young barristers moved across and sat on either side of me.

I was nonplussed when the first one got up and marked his appearance. He was Peter Rattray and the second was John Tebbutt. After they had marked their appearance I marked my appearance. I had shortened my name to Wikrama when I went to the Bar, and the magistrate, Harry Boarder, asked me to spell my name. I said: W-I-K-R-A-M-A. The magistrate was a beady-eyed, pompous man who looked down at me and said, “Carry on, Mr Nkrumah” (Nkrumah was then the president of Ghana and I can assure you that I bore no resemblance to him.) I gently told the magistrate that my name was Wikrama and not Nkrumah.

His reply was, “That’s alright. Carry on, Mr Nkrumah.” This was my first experience of blatant racism in Australia. Rattray put his client in the box, led his evidence-in-chief, and counsel for the first defendant cross-examined him. I then got up to cross-examine to find that Rattray and Tebbutt each in turn objected to every question I put. Most of my questions were clearly admissible but the magistrate, Harry Boarder, joined in the exchanges. He upheld every single objection, yet most of the objections were completely and utterly frivolous.

The same thing happened when John Tebbutt put his client in the box. My cross-examination was interrupted by Rattray and Tebbutt’s objections. When I put my client in the witness box, these two young heroes objected to every single question I put. I was completely shattered at the end of this experience.

Of course, you can guess the inevitable. Rattray won 100 per cent, John Tebbutt’s client was exonerated and in addition received compensation from my client for his damage. Furthermore, my client was made liable to pay two sets of damages and two sets of costs. I was mortified. I walked out of court and told both these heroes that this would never happen to me again – and it never did.

I returned to my chambers and gave Peter Allaway the bad news. He was furious. I was about to have my dinner that evening when Peter burst into our little flat in Armadale. He was screaming and yelling at the top of his voice, and was uncontrollable. He told me that because of my incompetence and stupidity, he had lost an exceptionally good client, as IPEC was taking all its business away from him.

Explanations were useless, as Allaway refused to believe his client could in any way have been negligent. He promised me that he would never brief me again and that I should leave the Bar, as I was hopelessly and utterly incompetent. He stormed out of the flat leaving me speechless. What an inglorious beginning!

My brief fee in the Allaway case was $46 – my only income for November 1972 – an inauspicious beginning.

The Christmas vacation

The Christmas vacation was soon upon me as the courts, in my case the Magistrates’ Court, was closed for two weeks. DB had given me about forty briefs to work on during the summer vacation. I spent the next two weeks diligently working my way through them as Anna Maria had to work through January.

In that month, DB invited us home for dinner. We took chocolates for his four children. The youngest, little Willie, was two years old. He finished eating his slab of chocolate and stood beside me while I was having dinner. He kept staring at my hand which was resting on the arm of my chair. He suddenly leant forward, grabbed my hand and bit it, obviously thinking it was another piece of chocolate. I gave a loud yell and little Willie disappeared.

I returned to work in the first week of January and sat there twiddling my thumbs, as no solicitors delivered briefs to Gamin’s list. I worked through DB’s pleadings and gave my completed work to him when he returned to work on February 1. I got plenty of thanks but no money.The next few months were uneventful, save for the fact that volume one of Williams found its way back to my desk. I was writing in about $400 a month until the time came for me to end my reading.There were about 420 barristers at the Bar at that time and rooms were rare as hens’ teeth. I remember my friends, Peter Buchanan (now the late Mr Justice Buchanan of the Court of Appeal) and Clive Rosen sharing a little cubicle on the first floor in Owen Dixon Chambers.My friend Michael Croyle and I had coffee early in the month of April and he proudly told me that he had obtained a room in Equity Chambers. This is where Sir Eugene (“Pat”) Gorman comes into my story.

Sir Eugene Gorman

In 1952, Dad had brought us out to Australia on a holiday. His friends were aghast because Australia was regarded, as Ava Gardner once said, as “the end of the world” Dad said that he would like to see a place where no one else had been to, so we travelled to Australia on the Neptunia, a Lloyd Triestine vessel. It was a small boat, some 12,000 tonnes in weight, and it rolled badly. We spent three weeks in Melbourne because the Neptunia was to go on to Sydney, be refurbished, and return three weeks later. But the voyage was delightful, as we traveled first class and the service on board first class was unbelievable, second to none.Dad was vice-chairman of the Ceylon Bar Council. When he came to Australia he met two distinguished lawyers, Pat Gorman and Monahan KC, later Mr Justice Monahan of the Supreme Court of Victoria.

Ceylon was one of the richest countries in the world at that time. It was selling its rubber to China as no other country was trading with China. Tea was extremely expensive, costing one English pound for a pound of tea until our prime minister ruined the market in 1954.The stupid man went to England and when he expressed surprise at the price of tea, which he said should not have been one English pound, the price of tea fell to two shillings and sixpence a pound.

In addition, when malaria was virtually eradicated, the population started increasing in leaps and bounds. The final straw came when the government granted free education, which meant Ceylon became a third-world country. I refer to this debacle because Monahan KC was horrified at my father’s fees. He was charging fifty English guineas a day while Monahan was charging fifteen Australian pounds a day.

Pat Gorman and Dad became good friends and when he discovered that Dad was on the committee of the Ceylon Turf Club, he took him to the three race courses in Melbourne. They kept up their friendship over the years. When I decided to emigrate to Australia, Dad wrote to Pat Gorman and told him that I was coming to Australia.

Sir Eugene Gorman (known as Pat) was one of the great advocates at the Victorian Bar. He was born in 1892 and had a large and a lucrative practice. His boast was that he intended retiring at the age of fifty, but the war intervened so he went off to war and retired immediately after. I believe he was a general in the Australian Army and ran the race course in Egypt during the war.

He had large salubrious chambers on the third floor of Equity Chambers, and a sign on his door read: Nothing matters half as much in life, as you think it does.Whenever I went to see Pat Gorman he was seated behind his large desk in his large room puffing on a large Cuban cigar. He would greet me with great affection, but within a few minutes would start moaning about how badly off and poor he was. For the life of me I was at a loss to understand why his conversation always started off with his poor financial situation.

It was only after he died that the penny dropped. Gorman thought that every time I visited him I was coming there to “touch him for a load”. When I decided to go to the Bar, he invited two of his friends who were senior partners in two big city firms to dinner with me. Suffice it to say I never got a brief from them.He always threw a large party every Christmas and he invited me to his party when I was reading with DB in 1972. These parties were magnificent affairs, with champagne flowing freely, oysters and the rest.

Anyway, I decided to see Pat Gorman about getting a room in Equity Chambers. I remember going to see him one afternoon in April 1973. His secretary, Pam Nicholson, ushered me into his room and he greeted me with his customary warmth. I told him that there was a room falling vacant in Equity Chambers and asked whether it would be possible for me to have it.

He picked up the phone and dialled Sir James Tate, who then handled accommodation at the bar. Pat Gorman said, “James, I have young Nimal Wikramanayake here with me. I believe there is a room going in Equity Chambers on the second floor. I want you to give it to him” I did not hear what Sir James said but Pat put the phone down, looked up at me and said: “Sonny, the room is yours” This was, I might say with some modesty, the only underhand thing I have ever done in my life. To this day Michael Croyle does not know how he lost his room. Mick died after I began this writing.

I would like to tell you about an interesting incident that happened during the final months of my reading period. It is slightly risque and un-Australian but still amusing. DB decided to take me for a drink to his club, the Victorian Club. It was in Queen Street and the subject of the “Great Bookie Robbery” a few years later. We got there shortly after five pm and joined a large group of about 15 people.

There was a short, florid Australian who appeared to take umbrage at my presence for he started relating racist Indian jokes, obviously under the impression that I was Indian. When he had finished relating his second anti-Indian joke, I asked the group whether I could have the floor and tell them a joke about the “New Australian”. They all agreed to let me have the floor, save for the florid Australian.

I told them that an Italian recently had been granted citizenship. He was excited about it and that evening he went to a pub close to his home, something he had never done before. He asked the bartender for an empty glass and then urinated into it and drank its contents. This created great interest among the members in the pub. He then left the pub with the members trailing behind him. He went back home and entered his garden through a side-gate, went to his fowl run and started choking a few of his hens to death. He then opened the back gate and went into a paddock where a cow was grazing peacefully. He went up to the cow, picked up its tail and put his ear to his rectum. At this stage the police were contacted and he was taken before the authorities for certification as being mentally unsound.

He was furious and said, “Why you arrest me? Me new Australian. Me go the pub, me drinks da piss, me screws da birds and then me listen to da bull-shit.’ This little anecdote was greeted with roars of laughter and the racist gentleman put his drink down and disappeared. I shouted to him to come back as I had a lot more jokes.

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Features

Power crept into the Sangha and is now tearing it apart

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

A file photo of Buddhist monks engaged in a protest

For more than a century, Sri Lankan society has lived with a quiet contradiction at the heart of its religious life. On the one hand, the Buddhist monk is revered as the embodiment of moral discipline, selfrestraint, and renunciation. On the other, the modern monk has become a public figure, political actor, administrator, media personality, and in some cases power broker whose influence extends far beyond the temple. This contradiction has been tolerated, even celebrated, for decades. But recent events, most notably a widely publicised case involving a senior monk accused of grave moral misconduct, have forced the country to confront a painful truth: the institutional conditions that make such scandals possible are not new. They are the predictable outcome of a long historical process that H. L. Seneviratne described with remarkable clarity in The Work of Kings. The moral deterioration visible today is not an aberration. It is the culmination of a centurylong transformation in the identity, function, and authority of the Sangha.

To understand how we arrived at this moment, it is necessary to revisit the argument Seneviratne made nearly three decades ago. His thesis was simple but profound: the modern Sri Lankan monkhood has taken on the ‘work of kings.’ By this he meant that monks, instead of confining themselves to the renunciant life prescribed by the Vinaya, have assumed the secular responsibilities once associated with precolonial kingship, such as protecting the religion, organising society, guiding the nation, and enforcing moral order. This shift, he argued, was not a natural evolution of Buddhist tradition but a modern invention shaped by colonialism, nationalism, and the anxieties of a society struggling to redefine itself in the face of foreign domination. The monk became a symbol of national identity, a guardian of cultural authenticity, and a leader in the struggle for political autonomy. In the process, the boundaries that once separated the monastic from the worldly began to dissolve.

Transformation

The consequences of this transformation were not immediately visible. For decades, the activist monk was celebrated as a patriot, a reformer, and a moral guide. His involvement in education, social welfare, and nationalist mobilisation was seen as a necessary response to colonial pressures and missionary competition. But beneath the surface, the foundations of monastic discipline were slowly eroding. The Vinaya, which had served for centuries as a rigorous framework for regulating monastic life, was increasingly overshadowed by the demands of public engagement. The communal structures that once ensured accountability, senior supervision, collective confession, and the daily rhythms of monastic routine, were weakened by the pressures of modernity. Monks who travelled constantly, managed institutions, or lived independently in urban temples found themselves outside the traditional systems of oversight that had long protected the integrity of the Sangha.

Scandal

It is within this historical context that the recent scandal must be understood. The case shocked the nation not only because of the severity of the allegations but because it shattered the public’s assumption that the monkhood remains a bastion of moral purity. Yet the shock itself reveals a collective denial. For years, Sri Lankan society has been aware, sometimes quietly, sometimes openly—of the growing gap between the ideal of the monk and the realities of modern monastic life. Stories of misconduct, financial irregularities, political manipulation, and abuse of authority have circulated with increasing frequency. But each incident has been treated as an isolated failure, a personal weakness, or an unfortunate exception. What has been missing is recognition that these incidents are symptoms of a deeper structural problem.

Seneviratne’s analysis helps illuminate this problem. When monks take on the work of kings, they inevitably enter domains of power that expose them to temptations the Vinaya was designed to avoid. Handling money, managing institutions, cultivating political patrons, and exercising authority over laypeople create opportunities for ego, ambition, and moral compromise. The monk who becomes a public figure is no longer shielded by the anonymity and humility of the renunciant life. Instead, he becomes a celebrity, a leader, and in some cases an object of uncritical devotion. This elevation brings with it a dangerous form of immunity. Laypeople who revere a monk for his public achievements may hesitate to question his behaviour. Politicians who rely on monastic support may protect him from scrutiny. The media, which often treats monks as moral authorities, may be reluctant to investigate allegations that challenge the sanctity of the robe.

The recent scandal illustrates how these dynamics can converge. The monk at the centre of the case was not an obscure figure. He was a respected preacher, charismatic leader, and head of a prominent institution. His public image was built on years of service, teaching, and community engagement. Yet it was precisely this public stature that allowed him to operate without meaningful oversight. The institutional structures around him, administrators, lay supporters, and junior monks, were either unwilling or unable to challenge his authority. The very qualities that made him a respected figure in the eyes of the public also made him untouchable within his own institution. When allegations finally emerged, they revealed not only personal wrongdoing but a systemic failure of accountability.

Failure that is not unique

This failure is not unique to one temple or one monk. It reflects a broader pattern within the modern Sangha. As monastic institutions have grown in size, wealth, and influence, their internal governance has struggled to keep pace. Many temples operate as semiautonomous entities controlled by a single monk or a small group of monks. Financial transparency is limited, administrative oversight is weak, and the mechanisms for addressing misconduct are often informal or ineffective. The traditional structures of monastic discipline, such as the Sangharama procedures for adjudicating offences, are rarely used in modern contexts, partly because they require collective participation and partly because they are illsuited to the complexities of contemporary institutional life. In practice, this means that monks who wield significant authority can act with little fear of internal sanction.

The politicisation of the Sangha has further complicated matters. Since the midtwentieth century, monks have played an increasingly prominent role in electoral politics, nationalist movements, and public policy debates. This involvement has given them access to political networks that can be mobilised to protect their interests. It has also created a culture in which monks are valued not for their adherence to the Vinaya but for their ability to influence public opinion, mobilise voters, or lend moral legitimacy to political causes. In such an environment, the monk who is politically useful may be shielded from criticism, while the monk who adheres strictly to the renunciant ideal may find himself marginalised or ignored.

The result is a profound distortion of monastic identity. The monk who once sought liberation from worldly attachments is now encouraged to cultivate influence, authority, and public recognition. The monk who once lived under the strict supervision of senior elders now operates in a world where independence is celebrated and oversight is minimal. The monk who once relied on laypeople for basic sustenance now controls vast resources, manages institutions, and commands the loyalty of thousands of followers. This inversion of traditional roles has created a fertile ground for moral deterioration.

Yet it would be a mistake to interpret this deterioration as evidence that the Sangha as a whole is corrupt. Many monks continue to live lives of remarkable discipline, humility, and spiritual dedication. In remote forest monasteries, small village temples, and meditation centres across the country, monks quietly uphold the ancient ideals of the renunciant life. They are not the ones who appear on television, lead political rallies, or manage large institutions. Their work is invisible, their influence subtle, and their commitment unwavering. The crisis facing the Sangha today is not a crisis of individual morality but a crisis of institutional identity. It is the product of a centurylong transformation that has blurred the boundaries between the monastic and the secular, the spiritual and the political, the renunciant and the worldly.

If Sri Lanka is to address this crisis, it must begin by acknowledging the structural nature of the problem. The temptation to treat each scandal as an isolated incident must be resisted. Instead, the country must confront the uncomfortable reality that the modern configuration of monastic life is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the Vinaya. The Sangha cannot simultaneously function as a political force, a social service provider, a media institution, and a spiritual community without compromising its integrity. The more monks are drawn into the world, the more vulnerable they become to the moral dangers that the Buddha warned against.

Reform, therefore, must focus not only on punishing individual offenders but on rethinking the institutional structures that enable misconduct. This includes strengthening internal governance, enhancing financial transparency, restoring the authority of senior elders, and reestablishing the communal practices that once ensured accountability. It also requires a broader cultural shift in how laypeople relate to monks. Blind devotion must give way to informed respect. Reverence must be balanced with responsibility. The robe must be honoured, but it must not be used as a shield against scrutiny.

Seneviratne’s work offers a valuable starting point for this rethinking. His analysis reminds us that the crisis facing the Sangha is not the result of moral decline alone but of historical forces that reshaped the identity of the monkhood. By tracing the evolution of the activist monk, he shows how the Sangha became entangled in the political and social structures of the modern nationstate. This entanglement has brought both benefits and dangers. It has allowed monks to play important roles in education, social welfare, and national development. But it has also exposed them to the corrupting influences of power, wealth, and public acclaim.

The challenge now is to disentangle the Sangha from these influences without undermining its ability to serve society. This will not be easy. The activist monk has become deeply embedded in the cultural and political fabric of the country. Many laypeople expect monks to be leaders, reformers, and guardians of national identity. Politicians rely on monastic support to legitimise their agendas. Media institutions depend on monks for content, commentary, and moral authority. Reversing this trend will require a collective effort from monks, laypeople, and political leaders alike.

Ultimately, the future of the Sangha depends on its ability to reclaim the renunciant ideal that lies at the heart of Buddhist monasticism. This does not mean withdrawing from society entirely, but it does mean reestablishing the boundaries that protect the monk from the dangers of worldly involvement. It means recognising that the true strength of the Sangha lies not in its political influence or institutional power but in its moral authority, its spiritual discipline, and its commitment to the path of liberation. The recent scandal, painful as it is, may serve as a catalyst for this reevaluation. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the modern monastic system and forced the country to confront the consequences of a centurylong transformation.

To understand how the Vihara Devalegam Act relates to the perceived moral deformation of the clergy, it is necessary to examine how property management, state law, and monastic discipline intersect in the modern era. Historically stemming from the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance No. 19 of 1931, this act serves as the primary legal framework governing the ‘temporalities’—meaning the secular wealth, extensive landholdings, and material donations belonging to Buddhist temples and shrines. While ancient kings granted these vast tracts of land to support the monkhood’s spiritual pursuits, the modern codification of this law has inadvertently fostered a system where property rights frequently supersede spiritual accountability.

The core of the crisis lies in the commercialisation of the monastic order that this legal framework enables. By treating temple lands as economic assets and vesting absolute administrative power in individual chief monks or lay trustees, the act has contributed to the rise of what critics term a monastic middle class. Access to vast, unregulated financial resources, rent from lands, and corporate donations has fundamentally shifted the focus of certain segments of the clergy away from the traditional path of worldly renunciation and spiritual guidance. Instead, it has driven a preoccupation with business investments, the accumulation of private capital, and luxury lifestyles, which deeply alienates a public looking to the Sangha for moral leadership.

The institutional flaws embedded in the Vihara Devalegam Act find a stark, real-world manifestation in the recent criminal case involving Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero. As the chief priest of Anuradhapura and the custodian of the Atamasthana—the eight highly venerated Buddhist shrines, including the sacred Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi—Hemarathana Thero occupied one of the most powerful and wealthy positions within the Sri Lankan Sangha. His arrest on charges of sexual abuse of a minor girl perfectly illustrates how the structural defects of the Act facilitate not only moral decay but also the systemic obstruction of justice.

The core of this intersection lies in the vast, unaccountable wealth generated by the temporalities of the Anuradhapura shrines. Under the Vihara Devalegam Act, the chief custodian exercises immense, virtually unchecked control over temple revenues, state-backed land management, and millions of rupees in daily donations from millions of global pilgrims. It is precisely this immense financial liquidity that enabled the alleged deployment of vast sums of money to the victim’s family.

Furthermore, the situation underscores the profound policy failures cited regarding the helplessness of the monastic hierarchy and state enforcement. When child protection authorities initially attempted to act, the National Child Protection Authority noted severe delays and institutional resistance, stating they practically had to force the police to execute the arrest. The monk’s immediate retreat to a private hospital in Colombo upon the advancement of the criminal probe, followed by his release on bail, mirrors the exact loop described where wealthy monastics deploy high-priced legal defence teams funded directly or indirectly by their institutional positions. Because the Vihara Devalegam Act does not provide a mechanism for the immediate, unconditional forfeiture of temporal administrative rights upon a criminal indictment, the accused retains his structural power throughout the legal process. The Pallegama Thero scandal stands as definitive proof that without a fundamental overhaul of how temple wealth is legally governed and disciplined, the material benefits guaranteed by ancient temporalities will continue to shield the worst elements of moral deformation from the rule of law.

If Sri Lanka can learn from this moment and if it can recognise the structural roots of the crisis and commit to meaningful reform, then the Sangha may yet emerge stronger, more disciplined, and more faithful to its ancient ideals. But if the country continues to treat each scandal as an isolated failure and if it continues to ignore the deeper institutional problems that Seneviratne identified, then the moral deterioration we see today will only deepen. The work of kings, when performed by monks, carries a heavy price. It is time to decide whether that price is worth paying.

by Professor Amarasiri de Silva

Features

Kondachchi wind farm and battery storage project to boost energy security, says Power Ministry Secretary

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

The Power and Energy Ministry’s drive towards energy security and renewable energy expansion received a major boost yesterday with the signing of a tripartite cooperation agreement for the development of the 150 MW Kondachchi Wind Power Project and an integrated Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) in Mannar.

The agreement was signed at the Ministry of Power auditorium under the patronage of Power Minister Anura Karunatilaka and Deputy Power Minister Arkam Ilyas.

Speaking at the event, Ministry Secretary G. M. R. D. Aponsu described the project as a transformative investment that would strengthen the country’s electricity network while supporting Sri Lanka’s transition towards cleaner energy sources.

“The Kondachchi Wind Power Project represents a significant milestone in Sri Lanka’s renewable energy journey. By combining large-scale wind generation with advanced battery energy storage technology, we are creating a more resilient and reliable power system capable of meeting future energy demands while reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels,” Aponsu said.

The project will be developed at Silavathurai in the Kondachchi area of Mannar on lands owned by the Sri Lanka Cashew Corporation. It is expected to utilise some 31 modern wind turbines with a total installed capacity of at least 150 MW.

Aponsu said the inclusion of an integrated battery storage facility would help address the variability associated with wind power generation and ensure stable electricity supply to the national grid.

“The battery energy storage component is a key feature of this project. It will enable the efficient integration of renewable energy into the grid and enhance overall system stability, which is essential as Sri Lanka increases the share of renewables in its energy mix,” he said.

According to the Ministry, the wind farm is expected to generate nearly 525 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually, significantly reducing the country’s expenditure on imported fuel and strengthening national energy security.

The project is also expected to contribute to Sri Lanka’s climate commitments by reducing carbon dioxide emissions by an estimated 372,750 tonnes annually.

“This investment delivers both economic and environmental benefits. It will reduce greenhouse gas emissions, support sustainable development objectives and help Sri Lanka move closer to achieving its renewable energy and climate targets,” Aponsu noted.

The project will be implemented under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) arrangement using the Build, Own and Operate (BOO) model. The Asian Development Bank is providing technical and financial advisory support through its Transaction Advisory Services programme.

The signing ceremony was attended by Pradeep Perera, Chairman of the National System Operator (Pvt) Ltd., and Takeyo Koike, Head of Market Development and Public-Private Partnership Division of the ADB, among other distinguished guests.

The Ministry said comprehensive Environmental Impact Assessments and avifaunal studies have been undertaken to ensure minimal impacts on bird populations, nearby communities and agricultural lands. A dedicated 220-kilovolt transmission system will also be constructed to connect the project to the national grid.

“The Kondachchi Wind Farm is a strategic national project that will help secure Sri Lanka’s energy future while accelerating the country’s transition towards sustainable and affordable electricity generation,” Aponsu said.

Energy sector experts view the project as one of the most important renewable energy initiatives currently being pursued in Sri Lanka, combining utility-scale wind generation with modern energy storage technology to enhance grid reliability and long-term energy sustainability.

By Ifham Nizam

Features

Saudi Arabia sets new benchmark in Hajj management as 1.7 million pilgrims complete sacred journey

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

Ambassador Al-Kahtani

Interview with Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka

Saudi Arabia has once again demonstrated its unparalleled capacity to manage one of the world’s largest annual religious gatherings, with this year’s Hajj pilgrimage concluding successfully despite extreme temperatures and the immense logistical challenge of accommodating more than 1.7 million pilgrims from around the world.

In an exclusive interview with The Island, Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka, described the 2026 Hajj season as a resounding success, crediting the achievement to the visionary leadership of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister, and the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies working around the clock to serve pilgrims.

The Ambassador noted that nearly 3,500 Sri Lankan pilgrims participated in this year’s Hajj under the quota allocated to Sri Lanka, benefiting from enhanced healthcare services, sophisticated crowd-management systems, expanded shaded areas and cutting-edge digital solutions introduced by the Kingdom.

With Saudi Arabia continuing to invest heavily in infrastructure, technology and pilgrim services under Vision 2030, Ambassador Al-Kahtani said the Kingdom remains committed to ensuring that pilgrims from around the world perform their religious duties in safety, comfort and tranquility.

The Saudi envoy also highlighted the growing partnership between Saudi Arabia and Sri Lanka, emphasising expanding cooperation not only in Hajj affairs but also in trade, investment, education, culture and institutional exchanges.

Following are excerpts of the interview:

Q: How do you assess this year’s Hajj season?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: This year’s Hajj season was a resounding success, thanks to the Almighty Allah and the integrated efforts of the government of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, led by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister. This success was reflected in the efficiency of crowd management, the quality of services provided to the Hajj pilgrims and the effective coordination among the various relevant authorities, which enabled pilgrims to perform their rituals in an atmosphere of security, tranquility and ease.

Q: How many Sri Lankan pilgrims performed Hajj this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The number of Hajj pilgrims from the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka reached approximately 3,500, within the quota allocated to Sri Lanka for this season.

Q: Are there any discussions regarding increasing Sri Lanka’s quota in the future?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:Hajj quotas are determined according to approved regulatory mechanisms that take into account a range of considerations. The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continue to study various aspects related to developing Hajj services and accommodating the allocated numbers for all countries, in coordination with the concerned parties.

Q: What were the most prominent special arrangements implemented this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The operational plans for this season focused on enhancing the safety and comfort of the Hajj pilgrims, especially given the climatic conditions and high temperatures. Measures included expanding shaded areas, increasing water distribution points and enhancing health and ambulance services, in addition to developing the transportation system and traffic management within the holy sites.

Q: What are the most prominent digital systems and smart services that were provided?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:The Kingdom continues to implement its digital transformation objectives for the Hajj and Umrah system. The scope of electronic services offered through the Nusuk platform and application has been expanded, along with the development of digital systems for issuing permits, managing crowds, guidance and health services. This contributes to increasing the efficiency of services and improving the pilgrim’s experience at all stages of their journey.

Q: How were the challenges of overcrowding and heat addressed?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities adopted an integrated crowd-management system based on modern technologies and real-time data analysis. This was coupled with intensified health-awareness campaigns, expanded organised movement routes and increased deployment of field, medical and emergency teams. These measures support the safety of the Hajj pilgrims and reduce the risks associated with crowd density and climatic conditions.

Q: Were there special services for the elderly and sick?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Yes. The Kingdom paid special attention to the elderly and people with special health needs by providing specialized medical services, assistive transportation and facilities equipped to meet their needs, in addition to field teams working to provide humanitarian support and necessary healthcare throughout the Hajj period.

Q: How successful was the Kingdom in combating irregular Hajj permits?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continued to rigorously implement the regulations and instructions governing Hajj, utilising modern technologies and advanced monitoring procedures to reduce violations related to irregular Hajj. These efforts contributed to enhancing the safety of pilgrims, improving crowd-management efficiency and maintaining the smooth flow of movement within the holy sites.

Q: How would you describe Saudi-Sri Lankan cooperation in organising Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Cooperation between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka is characterised by continuous and constructive coordination in all matters related to Hajj. The relevant authorities in both countries work jointly to ensure the provision of the best services for Sri Lankan pilgrims and enable them to perform their rituals with ease and peace of mind.

Q: How many Hajj pilgrims were there globally, and what were the main challenges?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: According to official statistics, the number of Hajj pilgrims this year reached 1,707,301 from various countries around the world. The main challenges included managing large crowds, ensuring public safety and providing health, transportation and accommodation services within a specific geographical and temporal scope. These challenges were addressed through advanced and integrated operational plans, which contributed to the smooth and successful completion of the Hajj season.

Q: Are there any future expansion projects?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The Kingdom continues to implement strategic development projects within the framework of Vision 2030, including developing the infrastructure in Makkah and the Holy Sites, and enhancing transportation networks and smart services. This contributes to raising the quality of services provided to pilgrims and Umrah performers and improving their long-term experience.

Q: How are Saudi-Sri Lankan relations strengthened outside the context of Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Relations between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka are witnessing continuous development in many areas, including political, economic, trade, cultural and educational cooperation, in addition to developing exchanges between institutions and the private sector. This reflects the two countries’ keenness to strengthen the bilateral partnership and achieve common interests.

Q: What message would you like to convey to Sri Lankan Muslims?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: We extend our sincere congratulations to the Hajj pilgrims who have completed their Hajj rituals, and we ask Almighty Allah to accept their pilgrimage. We also assure Muslims in Sri Lanka that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia places serving the Two Holy Mosques and the guests of Almighty Allah at the forefront of its priorities and continues to develop the Hajj and Umrah system to achieve the highest standards of quality and safety.

By Ifham Nizam