Opinion
“Let My Country Awake …”
Where the mind is without fear, and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
– Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali, 35
As Sri Lanka marks seventy-seven years of independence, this moment demands more than flags, ceremonies, or familiar slogans. It demands memory, honesty, and moral courage. Once spoken of with affection and hope as Mother Lanka, the nation today increasingly resembles a wounded child—carried again and again across fragile hanging bridges, suspended between survival and collapse. This image is not new to our cultural consciousness. Long before today’s crises, Sri Lankans encountered it through literature and radio, most memorably in Henry Jayasena’s Hunuwataye Kathawa (1967), the Sinhala radio drama adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle, written during World War II (WWII), broadcast by Radio Ceylon and later staged across the island. Heard in village homes and city neighborhoods, the story quietly shaped a moral imagination we now seem to have forgotten.
In Hunuwataye Kathawa, a child is placed at the center of a chalk circle, claimed by two women. One is Natella, the biological mother who abandons the child during a moment of danger and later returns—not out of love, but driven by entitlement, inheritance, and power. The other is Grusha, a poor servant who risks everything to protect the child, feeding her, carrying her across perilous terrain, and choosing care over comfort. When ordered by the judge to pull the child out of the circle, Grusha refuses. She would rather let go than injure the child. Justice, the story teaches, belongs not to those who claim ownership most loudly, but to those who practice responsibility and restraint. For generations of Sri Lankans, this lesson entered the heart not through policy or economics, but through art.
Beneath Sri Lanka’s recurring failures lies a deeper wound: collective forgetfulness. It is indeed incredible how a nation colonised by foreign powers for over four centuries, battered by people’s insurrections and national struggles ever since, divided by a 30-year-long ethnic war, shaken by a Tsunami, inflamed by Easter Bombings 2019, hit by Covid-19 shutdown, and bankrupt by economic crisis, just to mention a few before the devastating Cyclone Ditwah that rocked the entire nation not many weeks ago, could be so forgetful of its tragedies. This insight was articulated with striking clarity by Dr. Arvind Subramanian, the former Chief Economic Advisor to the Government of India, speaking at an event organised by The Examiner in Colombo on Jan 21, 2026. Subramanian observed the nation’s troubling tendency to forget its own history—its tragedies, hard-earned lessons, and warnings—and to embrace uncritically whatever is new in a pattern-line manner. This historical amnesia traps Sri Lanka in vicious cycles of debt, dependency, and unscientific thinking. When memory fails, every crisis feels unprecedented; when learning fails, every mistake is repeated.
Consequently, after seventy-eight years of independence from the last colonial rule, Sri Lanka still stands inside that chalk circle. Mother Lanka, once admired for free education, public health, and social mobility, has over the decades been reduced to a wounded child carried across unstable political, economic, and environmental bridges. Different governments, armed with different ideologies and promises, have taken turns holding her. Some carried her carefully; others dropped her midway; still others claimed her loudly while burdening her with unsustainable debt, weakened institutions, superstitious demeanors, and short-term fixes that mortgaged the future. This mother-made-child nation was perpetually oscillating between collapse and recovery. Yet instead of healing her wounds, with every passing Independence Day, we repeatedly celebrated and argued over who owned her.
This long post-independence journey reveals two recurring patterns. There have been many Natella-like approaches—entitlement without responsibility, nationalism without sacrifice, populism without prudence. These abandon the child in moments of crisis, only to return when power, contracts, or prestige are at stake. Alongside them, however, there have also been Grusha-like moments—imperfect, painful, often unpopular, yet rooted in reform, discipline, and care. These moments prioritise institutions over personalities, education over spectacle, sustainability over extraction, science over superstitions, and responsibility over applause. They are the moments that keep the child alive. The thorough cleaning that the whole nation recently experienced with Cyclone Ditwah also reminds us, among many other lessons, about the power and the need of these Grusha-like moments. It reminds us that the real celebration of freedom requires not slogans but breaking free from Natella-like approaches and, after the immersion that she just experienced, that it is only possible in and through at least three kinds of voluntary and ongoing immersions (3P Immersions)—disciplines that reshape not only policy but also personal and national character—Immersion of Poverty, Immersion of Plurality, and Immersion of Prudence.
The immersion of poverty, both spiritual and material, is deeply rooted in Buddhist teaching of tanhaā and āśā—the restless craving for more than one truly needs or can sustain. It is that which enables us to be constantly mindful of ourselves, not only who we really were, who we actually are, and what we continue to become, but also what we are really in need of. Nationally speaking, it involves acknowledging the country’s geopolitical placement, the strengths of its proud history and civilisation, and the limitations of its repeated struggles and political dismay. While material realism, when faced honestly, disciplines excess and teaches gratitude for what we already have, the immersion in poverty should remind us about how greed can lead to corruption and about the illusion that fulfillment lies in accumulation. A nation that does not discern its desires with its own resources and real capacity—human, historical, cultural, and environmental—will always mortgage its future to satisfy temporary cravings. We must ask ourselves honestly: how different are we today from the colonial era, when our decisions were shaped by external powers, if we remain bound by foreign debts, external models, and a forgetting of our own identity?
The immersion of plurality should not be understood as a slogan, but as a lived ethic. Sri Lanka’s diversity of language, religion, culture, geography, and memory is not the problem; it is the unfinished promise. Sinhala and Tamil, Muslim and Burgher, Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, and Muslim, village and city, coast and hill—all belong to the child in the chalk circle. While Natella-like politics weaponise difference and division, pulling the child apart to claim possession, Grusha-like care holds plurality together, recognising that it is the unity in diversity that sustains, protects, and frees the child, carrying it safely home. Freedom figures like Siddi Lebbe, Veera Puran Appu, Sir Ponnambalam Ramanathan, Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam, C. W. W. Kannangara, T. B. Jayah, Anagarika Dharmapala, and D. S. Senanayake emerged from different faiths, languages, and regions, yet shared a common ethic: the country mattered more than self, party, or community. They were not perfect, but they were Grusha-like—unwilling to pull the child apart to prove ownership, willing instead to carry her patiently across danger.
Grusha-like care, therefore, holds plurality together, recognizing that no single group can carry the country alone. Rather, it is plurality which is the ground of freedom from coercion, selective justice, and hostage-taking—whether by professions, ideologies, or institutions that prioritize self-interest over the common good. It also demands freedom from resistance to positive change, especially when that resistance is motivated by private gain rather than the common welfare. A plural society asks: Does this serve the nation, or merely my group, my party, my advantage?
The immersion in prudence is perhaps the rarest and most neglected virtue. Prudence calls us to move from myth to science, from avidyā to vidyā, from superstition to evidence. Recent floods and landslides were not merely natural disasters; they were moral warnings. Thy painfully revealed what happens when desire overrides restraint, when planning ignores science, when land is abused, when short-term gain overrides long-term responsibility, and when development forgets sustainability. Freedom from disaster is inseparable from freedom from ignorance. Prudence teaches us to listen actively, speak intentionally, plan with evidence, build with environmental awareness, and govern with foresight. Prudence is not only about grand reforms; it is also very much about our everyday civic behaviour, such as how we treat Mother Earth and shared spaces.
For example, freedom from spitting on the ground, freedom from littering public places, and freedom from leaving behind what we refuse to clean or return. These are not small matters; they are indicators of whether people see the nation as a common home or as a place to be used and discarded. These are only a handful of many instances where we need to hear what JFK (John F. Kennedy) asked the Americans in 1961: “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country”. The WWII-devastated Japan’s development is not built merely on technology, but on discipline, as systems like 5S cultivate order, responsibility, and respect for shared space. Clean Sri Lanka and the proposed Education Reforms 2026 can become transformative moments—but only if truth replaces pretense, cooperation replaces cynicism, and ownership replaces vengeful rhetoric. Prudence allows a nation to appreciate its ownness—its history, institutions, cultural resources, and the agendas for the common good—without rejecting learning from the world. Without prudence, novelty becomes addiction, and reform becomes fashion.
Before the history repeats itself for another 77 years, either as a series of tragedy or comedy, it is important, therefore, to recognise that freedom from debt, disaster, and dependency (national or personal) is impossible without all three types of immersions working together—poverty of desire, plurality of belonging, and prudence of action. Initiatives such as education reform and Clean Sri Lanka offer genuine opportunities, but only if we cooperate, think long-term, and resist turning reform into another slogan. This raises an uncomfortable question: Do we truly want to be free? Or are we content to remain in the same rut, so long as ignorance is preserved, education is left unreformed, and distractions are supplied by a handful of greedy politicians—their vengeful rhetoric, their allies, lopsided media, and mushrooming content creators—while the powerful continue to benefit from it all? Freedom is demanding. It asks for memory, restraint, cooperation, and courage. Dependency, by contrast, is easy.
Therefore, the question before us is not who shouts the loudest, who claims patriotism most aggressively, or who promises instant miracles. It is who remembers, who renounces, who embraces plurality, and who acts with prudence as her stewards and not owners. When are we going to immerse ourselves in these three immersions and be free? After Rabindranath Tagore’s poem, W. D. Amaradeva once sang, “Patu adahasnam paurinen lokaya kabaliwalata nobedi, jnanaya iwahal we… Ehew nidahase swarga rajyataṭ, mage dæśaya avadi karanu mena, Piyanani…“— Where knowledge keeps the world from being divided by the walls of narrow thoughts… Into that heaven of freedom, Father, let my country awake. How many poems, how many Amaradevas, how many freedom speeches, how many religious sermons, how many inundations, and how many struggles must come and go before we awaken to that truth and let Mother Lanka be out of that vicious pattern or circle of collapse and recovery—whole, healed, and free?
By Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J.
Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, CA, USA
Rashmi.Fernando@lmu.edu | https://orcid.org/0009-0006-3310-721X
Opinion
Pot calling the kettle black?
Doctor Upul Wijayawardhana (eminent physician), posed a riddle for us. He wrote about that island Sri Lanka as ‘ this little dot in the ocean’ when deriding the remark of President Dissanayake who had said that Sri Lanka was a hunduva , a term that indicated a small volume: me hunduve inna puluvan da? (Can you live in this restricted space?) Most sensible people, even uneducated, judge that the volume of a little drop (of whatever) is smaller than that of a hunduva; so is weight. When the learned doctor emphatically maintains ‘….we are not a hunduva’ but ‘… a little dot in the ocean…’, is the pot calling the kettle black or worse?
Physically and population wise, Sri Lanka is neither ‘a little dot’ nor ‘a hunduva. This is all in the rich imaginations of Dissanayake and Wijayawardhana. I once counted that there were more than 50 members of the UN who were smaller than Sri Lanka in physical and population size. England was a sizeable island with a small population in the northwest corner of Europe in late 18th century when it began to become what China, with 1.3 billion people and jutting out to the Pacific, is now. From about 1850, when the population of Great Britain was about 20 million, less than that of Sri Lanka in 2026, it ruled more than half the world. Besides, do not forget Vanuatu, Kiribati, Cook Islands, Antigua and Barbuda, Barbados, Lesotho and New Zealand (who habitually beats us at cricket). New Zealand with 5 million population played against 1.5 billion population India (1:300) for the T20 cricket championship a few weeks ago. I quietly wished New Zealand would win; so much for crap about dots in the Indian Ocean or the south Pacific.
Dr. Wijayawardhana also wrote about history and about ‘The achievements of Hunduwa’. The massive reservoirs and extensive irrigation systems in rajarata and ruhuna as well as the stupa are indeed tremendous works of irrigation and bear witness to superior ingenuity and organising ability, for the time they were built. They compare very well among structures elsewhere in the ancient world. Terms like ‘granary of the East’ must be taken with more than a grain of salt. Facile use of such terms does not take account of whatever shreds of evidence there is of adversity in those times. Monsoon Asia over the ages has more or less regularly suffered from floods, droughts and consequent famines. The last dire famine was in Bengal in 1944. The irrigation works in Lanka were a magnificent response to those phenomena. The modern response has been scientific agriculture making India a major grain exporter, from near famine conditions in 1973-74. Recall Indira Gandhi’s garibi hatao (eliminate poverty) speech to the General Assembly of the UN, that year.
The bhikkhu who wrote down the tripitaka in aluvihara did so because there was the threat of a severe famine in the course of which learned bhikkhu might have come to harm. Buddhist thought over centuries had been passed from generation to generation vocally (saamici patipanno bhagavato savaka (listener) sangho) and the departure from that tradition must have required a major threat of famine. There are stories of bhikkhu from Lanka fleeing from dire straits. In the same vein, while the mahavamsa speaks of kings and their valiant deeds, there is little account of the large mass of little people who lived then. Sensible teaching of the history of a people must include the history of as much of the people as possible and some idea of the history of other peoples in comparable times to avoid feeling dangerously smug and arrogant, which we have seen many times over.
Usvatte-aratchi
Opinion
Ministerial resignation and new political culture
The resignation of Energy Minister Kumara Jayakody comes after several weeks of controversy over his ministerial role. The controversy sharpened when the minister was indicted by the Commission on Bribery and Corruption for a transaction he was involved in ten years ago as a government official in the Fertiliser Corporation. The other issue was the government’s purchase of substandard coal from a new supplier. Minister Jayakody’s resignation followed the appointment of a Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry to investigate coal and petroleum purchases. The minister who resigned, along with the Secretary to the Ministry of Energy, Udayanga Hemapala, stated that they did not wish to compromise the integrity of the investigation to be undertaken by the Commission of Inquiry.
The government’s initial resistance to holding the minister accountable for the costly purchase was based on the argument that the official procedure had been followed in ordering the coal. However, the fact that the procedure permitted a disadvantageous purchase which has come to light on this occasion suggests a weakness in the process. The government’s appointment of the Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry to examine purchases as far back as 2009 follows from this observation. In this time 450 purchases are reported to have been made, and if several of them were as disadvantageous as this one, the cost to the country can be imagined. The need to investigate transactions since 2009 also arises from the possibility that loopholes in official government procedures in the past would have permitted private enrichment at a high cost to the country.
Concerns have been expressed in the past that the purchase of coal and petroleum, often on an emergency basis, enabled the use of emergency procurement processes which do not require going through the full tender procedures. The government has pledged to eradicate corruption as its priority. As a result, the general population would expect it to do everything within its power to correct those systems that permitted such corruption. Accountability is not only forward looking to ensure non-corrupt practices in the present, it is also backward looking to ensure that corrupt practices of the past are discontinued. This would be a matter of concern to those who headed government ministries and departments in previous governments. Those who have misapplied the systems can be expected to do their utmost to resist any investigation into the past.
Politically Astute
One of the main reasons for the government’s continuing popularity among the general population, as reflected in February 2026 public opinion poll by Verité Research, has been its willingness to address the problem of corruption. Public opinion studies have consistently shown that corruption remains one of the top concerns of citizens in Sri Lanka. The arrests and indictments of members of former governments have been viewed with general satisfaction as paving the way to a less corrupt society. At the same time, the resignations of Minister Kumara Jayakody and Secretary Udayanga Hemapala are an indication that not even government members will be spared if they are found to have crossed red lines. This is an important signal, as public confidence depends not only on holding political opponents to account but also on demonstrating fairness and consistency within one’s own ranks.
There appears to be a strategy on the part of the opposition to target government leaders and allege corruption so that ministers will be forced to step down. Organised protests against other ministers, and demonstrations outside their homes, are on the rise. The government appears not to want to give in to this opposition strategy and therefore delayed the resignation of Minister Jayakody until it had itself established the Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry. It enabled the minister to step down without it seeming that the government was yielding to opposition pressure. In political terms, this was a calibrated response that sought to balance the need for accountability with the need to maintain authority and coherence in governance.
The demand by opposition parties to focus attention on the coal problem could also be seen as an attempt to shift the national debate from the corruption of the past to controversies in the present. The opposition’s endeavour would be to take the heat off themselves in regard to the corruption of the past and turn it onto the government by making it the focus of inquiries into corruption. The decision to set up a Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry accompanied by the resignation of the minister and the ministry secretary was a politically astute way of demonstrating that the government will have no tolerance for corruption. It will also help to remind the general public about the rampant corruption of past governments which prevents the opposition’s corruption accusations against the government from gaining traction amongst the people.
New Practice
The resignation of a government minister who faces allegations but has not been convicted is still a relatively new practice in Sri Lanka. The general practice in Sri Lanka up to the present time has been for those in government service, if found to be at fault, to be transferred rather than removed from office. This is commonly seen in the case of police officers who, if found to have used excessive force or engaged in abuse, are transferred to another station rather than subjected to more serious disciplinary action. A similar pattern was seen in the case of former minister Keheliya Rambukwella, who faced allegations of corruption in the health field but was reassigned to a different portfolio rather than removed from government.
Against this background, the present resignation assumes greater importance. It signals a willingness to break with past practices and to establish a higher standard of conduct in public office. However, a single instance does not in itself create a lasting change. What is required is the consistent application of the same principle across all cases, irrespective of political affiliation or convenience. This is where the government has an opportunity to strengthen its credibility. By ensuring that the same standards of accountability are applied to its own members as to those of previous governments, it can demonstrate that its commitment to good governance is not selective.
The establishment of the Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry, the willingness to accept ministerial resignation, and the recognition of systemic weaknesses in procurement are all steps in the right direction. The challenge now is to ensure that these steps are followed through with determination and consistency. If the investigations are conducted impartially and lead to meaningful reforms, the present controversy could mark a turning point. The resignation of the minister should not be seen as an isolated event but as the beginning of a new practice. If it becomes part of a broader pattern of accountability, it can contribute to a new political culture and to restoring public trust in government.
by Jehan Perera
Opinion
Shutting roof top solar panels – a crime
The Island newspaper’s lead news item on the 12th of April 2026 was on the CEB request to shut down rooftop solar power during the low demand periods. Their argument is that rooftop solar panels produce about 300 MW power during the day and there is no procedure to balance the grid with such a load.
We as well as a large academic and industrial consortium members have been trying to promote solar energy as a viable and sustainable power source since the early 1990’s. We formed the Solar Energy Society and made representations to Government politicians about the need to have solar power generation. This continuous promotional work contributed to the rapid increase in PV solar companies from three in the early 1990’s to over 650 active PV solar companies established today in the country. These companies have created tens of thousands of high-quality jobs, as well as moving in the right direction for sustainable development.
However, all these efforts appear to have been in vain since the CEB policy makers have continuously rejected solar energy as a viable alternative. Their power generation plans at that time did not include solar energy at all but only relied on imported coal power plants and diesel power generation. Even at the meetings where CEB senior staff were present, we emphasised the importance of installation of battery storage facilities and grid balancing for which they have done nothing at all over the past three decades. Now they have grudgingly accepted the need to include solar energy, which was an election promise of the present government. The government policy is that Sri Lanka should go for renewables to satisfy 70% of its energy needs by 2030 and soon move towards the green hydrogen technology by using solar and wind energy.
The question is why the diesel generators and hydropower stations cannot be shut off one by one to accommodate the solar power generated during the daytime. Unlike a coal-fired plant, diesel generators and hydro power plants can be shut off in a relatively shorter period of time. Norochchalai Lakvijaya power plant produces around 900 MW of power while the total country requirement is 2500 MW on a daily basis. The remainder is provided by diesel generators, hydro and other renewable energy sources.
The need for work to achieve this goal of grid balancing should be the primary responsibility of the CEB. Modern grid balancing systems are in operation in countries such as Germany where around 56% of its energy come from renewable sources. They also plan to increase this to reach 80% of the energy required through renewables by 2030. Our CEB is hell bent on diesel power plants. Who benefits from such emergency power purchases is anybody’s guess?
The Government and the CEB should realise that all roof top solar plants are privately financed through personal funds or bank loans with no financial burden on the Government. It is a crime to request them not to operate these solar panels and get the necessary credits for the power transmitted to the national grid. It appears that the results of CEB’s lack of grid balancing experience and unwillingness to learn over three decades have now passed to the privately-funded rooftop solar panel owners. It is unfortunate that the Government is not considering the contributions of ordinary individuals who provide clean power to the national grid at no cost to the Government. Over 150,000 rooftop solar panels owners are severely affected by these ruthless decisions by the CEB, and this will lead to the un-popularity of this new government in the end.
by Professors Oliver Ileperuma and I M Dharmadasa
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