Features
London Exhibition of Universal Adult Franchise
In 1981 occurred an anniversary — fifty years after the 1931 constitutional change through which Ceylon was awarded universal adult suffrage. This was deemed an anniversary which richly deserved appropriate celebration. J R handed the matter over to Premadasa, and he in turn asked me to coordinate it. This meant making arrangements for a national celebration on an appropriate scale and an exhibition of the Sri Lankan heritage, both in London and Washington.
We needed a suitable partner in London to mount the exhibition which would make an impact, and the Commonwealth Institute in Kensington offered the logical choice. James Porter, the director of the Institute at that time gave his total support and the London Exhibition which lasted one month, was a great success. It was opened by Her Majesty, the Queen, who spent over an hour going through the exhibits, and a number of members of the British Cabinet and our own Cabinet paid visit. Premadasa joined the Queen in a very impressive ceremony conducted at the Commonwealth Institute building. Porter became a great friend and, in his letters, would retell how well the Sri Lanka exhibition had gone and been received. The Tara, the eighth-century priceless we borrowed from the London Museum, was the prime exhibit and we added to its public attraction by placing a cobra hi bit inside the glass box, which contained the goddess. It was immensely popular. Sri Lanka got a great deal of positive publicity. The picture -“the Avalokateswara Bodhisatwa” which we used as the ikon for the exhibition became a favoured symbol of Sri Lanka for years to come.
But just before leaving for London came a bombshell. J R said we could only take the replicas of the priceless art exhibits, we had catalogued, to London. Not the real things. The quiet and demure Elina Jayewardene, J R’s wife had been asking questions at the breakfast table and J R had promised an answer next morning. “What if the ship sank?” “What if the plane crashed?” “What if they were stolen?” We went to Ward Place that evening and pleaded with Mrs Jayewardene that the originals of most of the items had to be sent, otherwise the exhibition would be a flop. I said that I would take full responsibility for bringing back safely each and every piece. It was quite an undertaking but the only way to overcome the crisis. She finally relented but it was a close call.
The exhibition which was opened with great ceremony on the 19th of July by the Queen was an outstanding success. The one discordant note was the commotion made by a group of Tamil expatriates outside on Kensington High Street who waved placards denouncing the fake democracy in Sri Lanka. The High Commission tried to counter this by referring to our ability to change governments virtually every five years. This was the proof, if any were needed, of a vibrant democracy at work.
The 1983 Pogrom
In July 1983, there occurred the worst exhibition of communal violence that the country had witnessed. Those of us who lived through this period and saw some of it will never be able to erase from our minds the horrible acts inflicted on innocent people and the fear that engulfed thousands.
I was called upon to play a special role in restoring essential services island-wide. J R summoned me to his office on Wednesday afternoon of that fateful week as the rioting — which in Colombo was entirely one-sided — continued unabated. The burning and looting had started, after the news spread of the death of 13 soldiers caught in an ambush in Tinneveli on Friday night. The mass funeral was scheduled for Sunday afternoon at Kanatte cemetery and the mood turned ugly. As he spoke about appointing me commissioner-general of essential services with wide powers to stop the violence and restore normalcy, rampaging mobs were on the streets, pulling Tamil people out of vehicles and assaulting them and where there was resistance and the locking of doors, setting fire to the vehicles themselves with people inside them. It was chaotic, the mobs appeared to have gone mad and Colombo was burning.
Since the president had appointed me it was my duty to keep him informed of progress and to get directions on other lines of action that I might take. Premadasa, under whom I served as secretary, also assumed he had a hand in my work as commissioner-general and once or twice called in at the Royal College Head Quarters of the CGES to see how things were going. He did not seem to want to change anything but clearly wished to be seen as someone who was responsible too for the early restoration of essential services. He changed nothing of what I was doing and once he knew that the work was going on speedily, hardly intervened at all. So, the two jobs were separate and, in a sense, I now had two masters to serve.
I had now to see J R often and in action at moments of crisis. I could not but be impressed with his ability to remain calm excepting in the most difficult circumstances. One such was the second attack on the Tamil remand prisoners in Welikada jail on the 24th of July 1983. We were all at the Army Headquarters on Lower Lake Road when the news came in about the attack. The first which had occurred a day or two earlier, had resulted in the bludgeoning to death of around 30 remand prisoners including Kuttimani. Kuttimani had said somewhere that he was happy to be living at this time so that he could see the birth of Eelam with his own eyes. It was said that the enraged prisoners who had attacked the group of remand prisoners—among whom was Kuttimani—were so angry that they had claimed after the event that they had taken out the eyes of Kuttimani.
The Truth Commission in its report of September 2002 referred to the incidents at the Welikada Prison on the 25 and 26th of July 1983 as some of the most agonising moments of challenge to the nation’s collective conscience. Fifty-two political prisoners, some them in remand, some only under detention, were done to death by other inmates of the prison at that time. According to eye witness accounts, the Tamil prisoners taken in under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) were held in wards which were broken into by around 400 other prisoners armed with clubs.
C T Jansz, who was the acting commissioner of prisons informed J R at a meeting at which I was present at the army headquarters on the afternoon of 27 July that a further 15 had been killed. The first attack on 25 July had resulted in the death of 35 and of those killed on 25 July was Kuttimani alias K Yogachandran.
J R was trembling with rage when informed that the army guard on duty at the gate of the prisons had not intervened, in spite of his instructions after the first attack. The government had to hear much adverse comment on this murder of persons who were under state protection.
A further challenge was that the government did not take any worthwhile action against those responsible for the incidents.
The news of the second attack was personally brought to J R by C T Jansz, the commissioner of prisons, who was visibly shaken at the turn of events, and confessed that the prison guards had been no match for the assault on the high security area which housed those who remained after the first attack. Around 10 remand prisoners were done to death again and J R was angry, that in spite of his earlier orders that security should be enhanced the deed was not done.
On an earlier occasion after my first round of the Colombo city on being appointed as commissioner general, I reported back to J R at his Ward Place residence and mentioned that the situation was terrible with homes being attacked and cars being set on fire. I actually asked him whether he would like to go around the city and look at the burning buildings. I began to make a point that since the police and the armed services did not appear to be over- zealous in dealing with the looters, he might consider asking India for some help with commandos or paratroopers to save the persons under threat. I casually dropped in the thought that in 1915 the then government had to bring in some Sikhs and Punjabis to stop the Sinhala and Muslim riots. J R of course knew all about the history but shrugged it off and explained to me coolly saying – when a great wind blew with gale force it was unstoppable and all you could do was bend with the wind but that the wind would not go on forever. But when it ceased, the trees that bent would come back to normal. I was amazed at the metaphor but realized that this was the wisdom of a very pragmatic and an experienced politician.
Before I could even organise myself, and while in office on Black Friday, I was to be a personal witness to the fear that gripped Colomboites as a rumour spread that Tamil militants had been seen on a balcony of a Pettah toy-shop. I have never seen such a quick exodus of people from their offices as on this morning when everyone rushed for the bus, leaving even handbags and slippers behind in a mad scramble. Coincidentally, Narasimha Rao – the foreign minister of India – was in town conferring with J R on the help that India could give to contain the emergency. That Friday as I moved slowly home along Duplication Road, the prime minister’s office also having closed early, at the Vajira Road intersection, a frenzied mob, bare-bodied and with sarongs tucked-up, brandishing swords and clubs, ran upwards towards Galle Road, the Hindu kovil at Bambalapitiya being their target. I shuddered at what fate awaited the pusari and his family and my own impotence at the time.
At 3.00 pm the long-awaited curfew was announced but it did not deter a small group of drunken rowdies from shouting, a few hours later, as they stood at the top of de Fonseka Place, where I lived, as to whether there were Tamils still living down the street. I decided that I had to confront them and, in spite of Damayanthi warning me to come back, I went out to meet them. The more sober among them produced a sheet of paper on which the numbers of some houses were written. I said I was sure they had all left already but they were not convinced. Seeing that I appeared to have some authority, although I had no security of any kind at the time, and had changed into my sarong and banian, they reluctantly turned away, muttering vile imprecations and questioning my patriotic sensibilities. In fact, as it turned out, my friends, especially the retired bank executive Ladd Mahesan, who lived a few doors away and would greet me with a bow of his head as he passed by each morning on his way to play tennis, were already relatively safe from physical attack in the hastily set-up welfare camp at the Wellawatte Hindu College a few miles away.
J R invested me with enormous power as commissioner-general of essential services. I had the power to requisition buildings, aircraft, ships, trucks, trains and even people. He allotted a sum of Rs 50 Million, which was a big sum in those days, to get on with the job; to try and work towards normalcy, as soon as possible. I had to set up an organisation from scratch. As a headquarters, I chose Royal College, since all schools were closed and the students had been given an extended holiday. I converted a part of the college into an office and had a staff of five personally chosen top administrators to assist me as commissioners within two days. I offered them interesting work and highly enhanced salaries. Their first job was to choose ten others – from executives to drivers – to handle their separate portfolios. I had worked with my top team before in difficult situations and they, each and everyone of them, did an outstanding job.
They were Manel Abeysekera, a friend from the foreign service, S Sivanandan, my deputy when I was GA at Galle and Ampara, Yasasiri Gunawardena, My assistant at Galle. I chose Wing Commander Raja Wickremasinghe to organise air evacuation for those who wanted to fly to the east or to the north and soon he had a little domestic air service going with two Dakotas in hand. Wilfred Jayasuriya, the former director of commerce and writer, provided the media and communication support.
We had enormous help from the civil society and recognised NGOs like Sarvodaya, Red Barma, LEADS, SEDEC, the Red Cross, and many others who took over the delivery and distribution of food at the welfare camps and helped with providing medical attention. At the time we had virtually no international agencies who could be asked to help and sadly no disaster relief preparedness, machinery, or financial reserves. It had to be for many months a purely local initiative sustained by volunteer effort and commitment.
In a few days after the initial attacks on people and homes in Colombo and the suburbs, the refugee population swelled to over a 125,000 in the city alone. We had soon sixty welfare camps ranging from the large ones at Kotahena Church, Thurstan College and the Ratmalana Hindu College to little ones catering to 10 to 12 families. Each of them had to be provided with the basic facilities of food, water and sanitation. For security we had to depend on the police and army.
I tried as far as humanly possible to visit all of these centres and to re-assure the victims of assault and the pillage of their possessions, that the state had not forgotten them and would work to restore whatever was possible of their loss and most importantly their dignity. At the airport hangar in Ratmalana which was converted into a huge welfare camp I found a friend Jolly Somasunderam, a senior public servant whose home had been broken into and who had fled with his family in the nick of time. I offered to take him back home but he preferred the relative safety of the camp until things returned to normal. His stoic refusal to despair and run away to another country, and his faith in the healing process which the passing of time would bring was very reassuring. As a Tamil he had been through this before. I found another man in the hangar, close to tears and he begged of me to find his wife and daughter who had been separated from him as they fled their home one night. He had heard that they might be in the St Lawrence Church in Wellawatte. I said, ‘Lets try’ and took him in my car to the Church where indeed they were. Years later I ran into him at a seminar on conflict resolution and tears of joy ran down his face at the recollection of the incident. (To be continued)
(Excerpted from Rendering unto Caesar, autobiography of Bradman Weerakoon)
Features
Putin in Modi’s India
That was no ordinary greeting; on the frosty evening of last Thursday, Indian Prime Minister Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin in a bear hug at Delhi airport and, within moments, presented him with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian. The choice of gift was laden with symbolism—echoes of Robert Oppenheimer, who drew profound philosophical reckoning from the same text, declaring, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” after witnessing the first atomic explosion. Was Modi signaling the weight of nuclear-age responsibility to Putin, or was this a deliberate affirmation of India’s comfort in maintaining ties with a pariah state under global sanctions?
The streets of Delhi, festooned with Russian and Indian flags and dominated by colossal billboards of Modi and Putin, suggested more than ceremonial protocol—it was pageantry of influence, an audacious statement of India’s strategic independence. In that gesture, New Delhi appeared to assert that moral judgment from the West would no longer dictate its choices, and that the Indo-Russian relationship, forged during the Cold War and hardened by decades of defence dependence, remains a pivot capable of unsettling the established order in South Asia and beyond.
Putin’s first visit to India in four years, coinciding with talks in Washington over a possible Ukraine peace framework, came at a time when New Delhi is walking an increasingly delicate tightrope between Moscow and Washington. The optics of the visit—from ceremonial receptions at Rashtrapati Bhavan to summit talks at Hyderabad House—reflected not merely diplomacy but an overt projection of influence. Modi’s presentation of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian was emblematic: a centuries-old text of dharma and duty, layered with the moral weight of choice, now inserted into the theatre of high-stakes realpolitik.
Putin himself, in an interview with India Today, described India as a “major global player, not a British colony,” praising Modi as a “reliable person” who does not succumb to pressure. These words, spoken against the backdrop of US sanctions, EU manoeuvres to leverage frozen Russian assets for Ukraine, and growing Chinese assertiveness, highlight India’s determination to claim agency in a multipolar world where Washington and Brussels no longer set the rules unilaterally.
Historically, the Indo-Russian relationship has oscillated between strategic necessity and opportunism. Declassified CIA documents from the 1980s reveal the delicate dance India played with the USSR during the Cold War. Indira Gandhi’s approach, as the CIA observed, was staunchly nationalist and fiercely protective of India’s regional supremacy. The United States feared that India’s policies towards its neighbours, coupled with its Soviet alignment, could destabilize South Asia while simultaneously granting Moscow a strategic foothold. Today, the echoes of that era reverberate: New Delhi remains Moscow’s top arms buyer, leases nuclear-powered submarines, and maintains energy ties that have drawn ire from Washington, while ensuring that its engagement with Russia does not fully alienate the United States or Western partners.
What is important to see here is the economic metrics. India-Russia trade in 2025 is estimated at roughly $18 billion, heavily skewed in Moscow’s favour due to energy imports, while India continues to negotiate with the United States to mitigate punitive tariffs, including a 25 percent secondary tariff imposed over India’s purchases of Russian oil. Both nations aim to expand bilateral trade to a target of $100 billion by 2030, a goal that falls just two years after the next general elections, when Prime Minister Modi is widely expected to contest again despite the symbolic 75-year age limit for party leadership—a restriction that has largely been treated as political theatre and quickly forgotten. It is worth noting that India’s trade deficit with the US has ballooned to approximately $42 billion in the last fiscal year, reflecting both structural imbalances and the impact of these punitive measures. Remittances provide a partial counterweight: Indians working in the US send home over $90 billion annually, dwarfing Russian remittances, which are negligible in comparison. This indicates that while India faces challenges in trade metrics, its diaspora injects substantial financial resilience into the economy.
The summit also highlighted defence collaboration in stark terms. India’s $2 billion lease of a Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine, with delivery scheduled for 2028, signals an unprecedented deepening of underwater capabilities. The vessel, unable to enter combat under lease terms, is intended to train crews and refine India’s nuclear submarine operations—a critical step for strategic deterrence in the Indian Ocean amid rising Chinese and US naval competition. Russia, despite sanctions and Western pressure, continues to sustain a military-industrial complex capable of producing tanks, missiles, and drones at accelerating rates. As reports from Ukraine’s Center for Analytical Studies and Countering Hybrid Threats indicate, nearly half of Russian defence enterprises remain unsanctioned, exposing the limitations of Western punitive measures. In this context, India’s engagement with Russian defence capabilities is both a practical necessity and a symbolic assertion that strategic imperatives can outweigh Western orthodoxy.
Sanctions, however, remain a persistent backdrop. The European Union, under Ursula von der Leyen, has attempted to deploy emergency measures to convert frozen Russian assets into loans for Ukraine, challenging EU treaties and raising the prospect of legal confrontations with countries such as Hungary and Belgium. The United States, meanwhile, has explored using the same assets in US-led investment frameworks to facilitate reconstruction or political leverage. India, observing these efforts, has maintained a stance of strategic neutrality—resisting calls to condemn Russia while advocating for diplomacy, and emphasizing that selective sanctioning by Western powers is inconsistent and self-serving. Putin, speaking to India Today, noted that Washington and Moscow presented papers in parallel but reached no compromises, and highlighted that over 90 percent of Russia-India transactions are conducted in national currencies—a subtle yet potent challenge to dollar dominance.
The optics extend into nuclear and high-tech collaboration. India is developing nuclear-capable submarine-launched ballistic missiles, advancing its underwater fleet, and exploring high-tech partnerships with Russia, recalibrating the strategic environment in South Asia. Putin’s rhetoric that “Kiev is the mother of all Russian cities” and his framing of Russia’s role in eastern Ukraine resonate with historical narratives of great power assertion, yet they also serve as a conscious projection of strength aimed at partners like India. Modi’s reception was far from ceremonial; it underlined a shared understanding that global power is increasingly multipolar and that alliances must be flexible, resilient, and insulated from Western censure.
Even in the economic sphere, India challenges conventional assumptions. While the trade deficit with Russia persists due to energy imports, India’s broader engagement with global markets—including remittances from its diaspora and ongoing negotiations with the US—allows New Delhi to balance sovereignty with strategic interest. Putin’s discussions emphasizing bilateral trade growth, high-technology collaboration, and future energy projects further solidify this interdependence. The bottom line is clear: the India-Russia partnership, far from being a relic of Cold War calculations, has evolved into a sophisticated framework for navigating sanctions, economic competition, and regional security challenges, and it may yet redefine the balance of power in South Asia.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
in New Delhi
Features
Lalith Athulathmudali: an exceptional minister who managed time and got the best out of his team
His hallmark was efficiency, wit and much more
I would now like to devote some space to Minister Athulathmudali and how he ran his Ministry. His was a disciplined approach to work. Everyone knew that he was very happy in his previous portfolio of Trade and Shipping, where in addition to numerous achievements he had steered through Parliament path breaking legislation to modernize these sectors. The Port Authorities Act; the new Companies Act; the Intellectual Property Act; the Consumer Protection Act; and many others were evidence of significant productivity.
Therefore, many thought that he would be unhappy in his new portfolio. In fact some one asked him this question one day, in our presence. His reply was characteristic of his professional approach to work. He said that the Ministry he was given did not matter. Whatever Ministry, hie was given, it was his duty to comprehend the issues and productively address them. “Even if I was given the Buddha Sasana Ministry, I will still find plenty to do to improve matters,” he concluded. This spirit and this approach illuminated the work of the Ministry. I have yet to see anyone, apart from a Minister, who budgeted time so rigorously.
He desired to pack value to every passing minute. He was the only Minister, I knew in nearly 37 years of public service, who always fixed a starting as well as a finishing time for all his meetings. Perhaps the only meeting where he could not have a firm grip on time was the Cabinet meeting. There were no welcoming speeches or votes of thanks in his regime. He came to a meeting and got straight to the point. He despised visibly the sycophantic panegyrics which had become a part of the culture of welcoming speeches and votes of thanks.
He used to say publicly that we had become a society of humbugs and lick-spittles. He wanted none of it. With him performance was all. You either kept to his pace of work and requirement for relevancy in all matters, or you were quickly marginalized. To some of us, who had cultivated a life long habit of hard work, and of being up to date, it was both pleasurable and at times even exhilarating to work with him. The lazy or the unprepared had to encounter him with considerable dread as a companion. Not that he was ever harsh. He did not raise his voice, or even scold. He had the capacity to marginalize and dismiss you with wit and verve.
Mr. Athulathmudali just did not have time for pedlars in excuses or shirkers. Again, this did not mean that he expected us to be superhuman. He was a quick judge of the genuine and the credible. He was well aware that those who work hard and take scores of decisions a day would sometimes make mistakes. That was to be expected, provided however that they were not due to gross negligence or egregious blunder. Reasonable errors of judgment were a different matter provided of course they were not too frequent. With him all the officers knew what to expect.
I often wondered whether in Mr. Athulathmudali’s case, his intense preoccupation with time had something to do with the near death experience he suffered when he was seriously injured in a grenade explosion in Parliament. Those who rushed him to hospital on that day said that they could feel no pulse. He himself later said that he went beyond and then returned. My opportunity to work closely with him as Secretary was after he had undergone this experience. Everyone knew of course that he was a quick decision maker and an efficient Minister even before this incident. But I have no means of telling whether this obsession with time to this degree was a post incident reaction or not.
Linked together with this preoccupation with time was the intensity of his desire to be completely up to date both on matters relating to the subject areas of his Ministry as well as all aspects of current affairs. He regularly read the major current affairs magazines and journals. He read rapidly and was therefore able to pack in more into his reading time. He almost always read in the car, a habit which I shared with him. On one occasion, on a trip outside Colombo, he invited me to join him in his car for the journey back. After about half an hour’s conversation, both of us settled down to read, for I too always carried a stock of reading matter in the car. Some cannot read in a moving vehicle. They get nausea if they try. I have been fortunate that this does not happen to me, because I have finished whole books, whilst commuting to and fro.
The alternative would have been vacantly gazing on familiar sights. To round up this aspect of Mr. Athulathmudali’s character, one thing more needs to be said. He was the only person I knew who nearly always carried a World band radio in his brief case. He used to briefly interrupt meetings some times in order to catch the latest news bulletin from the BBC, Voice of America or some other station. Such was the importance he placed on being completely up to date. I hope all these do not convey an image of some grim automaton. That would be far from the truth.
His was a complex character. It was in fact fun to work with him. We got through discussing serious subjects with a considerable degree of wit, repartee and light banter. He encouraged criticism and dissent. But you had to have an arguable point and be prepared to sustain the argument with him. He also insisted on politeness in conversation and in argument. I myself as well as some of the senior pfficials of our team regularly argued with him. Both sides enjoyed this.
Mr. Athulathmudali created the conditions that made us feel comfortable arguing with him or dissenting. In this process, we were treated as equals. Mrs. Bandaranaike was another one of those persons who welcomed an argument with her officials, and did not try to stamp down dissent. She too, like Mr. Athulathmudali had high regard for such officials, a regard which she carried with her well past her own political vicissitudes.
Main areas of focus
Mr. Athulathmudali focused on two main areas. The first area related to the numerous operations of the Ministry. These Included a close and detailed pursuit of the progress of the two main paddy crops in the seasons of Maha and Yala; the review of the position from time to time of the situation in regard to the production of subsidiary food crops such as chillies, onions and potatoes, the review of issues relating to what were called minor export crops such as coffee, cocoa, cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon; the addressing of major issues relating to timely water distribution, pest control, etc; urgent issues of agricultural marketing and the roles of the Paddy Marketing Board, the Co-operatives and the private sector; problems in regard to food buffer stocking; issues relating to milk production, and so on.
These areas were covered in detail by the overall official team of Additional Secretaries, Directors, Heads of Department and myself. We had a system of regular meetings at various levels, culminating in a few large meetings chaired by me, at which issues that could not be addressed at lower levels were brought up for discussion and resolution. Meetings chaired by the Minister served two purposes. They kept film fully briefed and up to date. Also residual problems that could not be resolved at official level were taken up in these fora. Often, problems discussed with him by us had a political or important policy element. On all other matters we decided freely and without interference. The prevailing environment led to easy information flows and speedy decision making. The Minister would have countenanced nothing less.
His second area of concentration was on research, development and quality improvement. Here, unlike on operational matters we did not have several layers of meetings. These meetings were single overall meetings chaired by the Minister himself with all the relevant actors present. Whatever the subject area discussed at these meetings, the Minister wished to have his four State Ministers present. This was done for two reasons. In the first instance, he wanted his State Ministers exposed to all areas and aspects of the Ministry. They already had some exposure at Mini-Cabinet meetings. But these meetings were generally on operational and co-ordination issues and not on quality and research.
Secondly, the Minister followed a policy of recommending to the President that each one of his State Ministers act in turn for him, when he was out of the country, beginning with the most senior of them, and following subsequently the order of seniority. This was another reason why he wanted them to know everything that was going on in the Ministry. The Minister followed the same principle in regard to the State Secretaries, when I had to be out of the country.
What were some of the areas that the Minister took up for regular discussions at these special meetings? They consisted of issues such as the stagnation in rice yields over a considerable period of time; new varieties of rice being developed; issues such as Nitrogen fixation in plants and the reduction in the use of chemical fertilizers; the possibility of introducing better varieties of maize; issues relating to the fragmentation of cultivable land, especially paddy lands and its impact on production, productivity and long term sustainability; issues relating to the growing and the use of soya, and the question of Sri Lankan food habits in relation to its consumption; issues of post harvest losses and possible remedies; issues relating to growing for a market and the relationship that should be developed between the producer and the buyer; matters relating to quality control at all levels, and a number of other matters.
These meetings were extremely interesting. They were attended by senior scientists, researchers, agricultural economists and marketing experts. The Minister was greatly exercised with the central issues of high quality research, bringing the findings of such research to the field, and obtaining a detailed feedback from between research and growers back into the research process. This was a virtuous circle, he wished to encourage and to improve. But in this, all of us were to suffer bitter disappointment.
The link between research and the field and back to research were the army of agricultural instructors. They were an old and a tried and tested institution. They were a highly trained staff with a high degree of professional pride in their work. In fact, Sri Lanka had the reputation of having one of the best agricultural extension systems in the whole of Asia. But along with the President’s Janasaviya program of poverty alleviation arose the necessity for much larger numbers of Grama Sevakas or village level officers. The agricultural instructors were diverted for this purpose.
In spite of all the reasoning we could adduce, the President and his advisors thought that these officers could function in a dual capacity. The passage of time clearly revealed that as foreseen by us, they couldn’t. Thus was broken a tried, tested and an effective system. The Minister was more cynical than angry. He regarded the action as an act of irresponsibility and vandalism. So did everyone connected with agriculture.
(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Peiris) ✍️
Features
How climate change fuels extreme weather:
What Sri Lanka’s recent disasters tell us
Sri Lanka has always lived with the moods of the monsoon. For generations, people have grown used to seasonal rhythms of rain, wind and sunshine. Yet what the country has witnessed in recent months feels different. The storms have been stronger, the rainfall more intense, the destruction more widespread and the recovery more painful. The nation has been battered by floods, landslides and hurricane force winds that arrived with little warning and left thousands struggling to rebuild their lives. Scientists say this new pattern is not an accident of nature. It is a direct outcome of the world’s changing climate, which is heating the atmosphere and oceans and turning familiar weather cycles into something far more volatile.
To understand why Sri Lanka is experiencing such severe storms and flooding, it helps to begin with a simple idea. A warmer world holds more energy. When the atmosphere and ocean temperatures rise, they behave like an overheated engine. The monsoon winds strengthen. Rain clouds grow heavier. Sea levels climb. All these changes amplify the forces that produce extreme weather. What used to be occasional, manageable disasters are turning into regular and overwhelming events.
One of the clearest links between climate change and extreme weather is found in rising ocean temperatures. The Indian Ocean is warming faster than most other major bodies of water on the planet. This has serious consequences for Sri Lanka because the surrounding sea regulates the island’s climate. Warm oceans feed moisture into the atmosphere. This moisture then forms clouds that can trigger heavy downpours. When ocean temperatures climb beyond their normal range, the atmosphere becomes supercharged. Rain that once fell steadily over several days can now fall in a matter of hours. This explains why many parts of the country have witnessed sudden cloudbursts that turn roads into rivers and fields into lakes.
Warmer oceans also influence wind patterns. A heated sea surface disturbs air circulation, sometimes producing swirling systems that carry destructive winds and torrential rain. While full scale cyclones are less frequent in Sri Lanka than in parts of India or Bangladesh, the island is increasingly experiencing hybrid storms that bring cyclone like winds without being classified as named cyclones. These storms uproot trees, blow roofs off houses and knock down electricity lines, making post disaster life even harder for affected communities.
Another major factor behind Sri Lanka’s recent extreme weather is the shifting behaviour of the monsoon. For centuries, the island has relied on two monsoons that arrive at predictable times. Farmers, fishermen and traders built their lives around this rhythm. Climate change has disrupted this familiar pattern. The monsoons are becoming erratic. They may arrive later than usual or withdraw too early. In some years they bring too little rain, causing droughts. In other years they arrive with overwhelming intensity, bringing rain far beyond the land’s capacity to absorb. This unpredictability makes it difficult for people to prepare. It also increases the risk of disasters because infrastructure, agriculture and drainage systems were designed for a different climate.
In many regions of Sri Lanka, the land itself has become more vulnerable. Rising temperatures and unpredictable rainfall weaken soil structures. When long dry spells are followed by sudden downpours, the earth cannot hold together. Hillsides become unstable and landslides occur with devastating speed. Villages that once felt safe now face new threats as slopes collapse without warning. These disasters are not simply natural. They are intensified by human activities such as deforestation, poor land management and unplanned construction. Climate change acts as a catalyst, magnifying these risks and turning minor vulnerabilities into life threatening dangers.
The Sea level rise adds yet another layer of concern. The coasts of Sri Lanka are home to millions of people, as well as vital industries such as fishing, tourism and trade. Higher sea levels make coastal flooding far more common, especially when combined with storm surges. During recent storms, waves pushed much farther inland than usual, damaging homes, shops and fishing equipment. Saltwater intrusion also harms soil and freshwater supplies, threatening agriculture in coastal zones. With sea levels continuing to rise, these risks will only grow unless long term protective measures are put in place.
It is also important to recognise the human side of these disasters. Climate change is not only about shifting weather patterns. It is about the people who must confront the consequences. In the aftermath of the recent events, Sri Lankans have shown remarkable courage. Families have worked together to clear debris, rebuild houses, restore livelihoods and comfort those in distress. Yet the burden has not been evenly distributed. Low income households, informal settlements and rural communities often face the greatest hardships. Many of them live in areas more prone to flooding and landslides. They also have fewer resources to recover when disasters strike. Climate change therefore deepens existing inequalities, making vulnerable groups even more exposed.
Children are among the worst affected. Schools often close for days or weeks after floods, interrupting education and adding stress to families already struggling with upheaval. Health risks rise as stagnant water becomes a breeding ground for mosquito borne diseases. Malnutrition can worsen when livelihoods are disrupted and food prices increase. Elderly people face additional risks because they may have difficulty moving quickly during emergencies or accessing medical care after the disaster.
In cities, extreme weather strains essential services. Heavy rains overwhelm drainage systems, causing urban flooding that brings traffic to a halt and damages vehicles and businesses.
Hospitals face sudden influxes of patients. Water treatment plants struggle to maintain supply when rivers overflow or become contaminated. Power outages become common as strong winds damage transmission lines. These disruptions show how deeply interconnected human systems are with the natural environment. When the climate changes, every part of society feels the impact.
Despite the grim realities, there is reason for hope. Sri Lanka has a long history of resilience. Communities have rebuilt after countless storms, droughts and conflicts. Today the country has access to better technology, stronger scientific knowledge and more global support than ever before. What is needed is a clear commitment to prepare for the future rather than react only after disasters strike.
One of the most promising strategies is early warning systems. Accurate forecasts can save lives by giving people the time they need to move to safety. Sri Lanka has already improved its meteorological capabilities, but there is still room to strengthen local communication networks so that warnings reach everyone, including those in remote areas or without internet access. Community education is equally important. When people understand what climate change means for their region, they can make informed choices about housing, farming and water use.
Infrastructure must also evolve. Drainage systems in many towns need upgrading to handle more intense rainfall. Riverbanks require reinforcement to prevent flooding. New buildings, particularly in risk prone zones, must follow safety standards that take climate change into account rather than relying on outdated assumptions about weather patterns. At the same time, restoring natural ecosystems can offer powerful protection. Replanting mangroves, preserving wetlands and maintaining forest cover all help buffer the impact of floods, storms and landslides. Nature is one of the most effective defences against extreme weather when it is allowed to function properly.
On a broader level, Sri Lanka will benefit from global efforts to slow climate change. The island is a small emitter of greenhouse gases compared to many industrialised nations, yet it bears a heavy share of the consequences. International cooperation is essential to reduce harmful emissions, invest in renewable energy and support adaptation in vulnerable countries. Sri Lanka can also strengthen its energy security by expanding solar, wind and other sustainable sources, which reduce dependence on fossil fuels that contribute to climate change.
However, even as governments and scientists work on long term solutions, the experience of ordinary Sri Lankans during the recent storms offers an important lesson. Climate change is not a distant threat. It is happening now. It is felt in flooded living rooms, damaged paddy fields, broken bridges and displaced families. It reshapes the choices parents make for their children and the fears felt by those who live close to rivers or hillsides. It influences food prices, housing stability and health. It is a lived reality, not just an environmental problem.
At its heart, the story of Sri Lanka’s extreme weather is a story about people trying to protect their homes and loved ones. It shows how a global crisis can land with fierce intensity on a small island. But it also reveals the strength of human solidarity. Neighbours rescuing neighbours. Strangers offering food and shelter. Volunteers stepping into danger to help those trapped in rising waters. This spirit of care will be essential in the years ahead as the climate continues to warm and weather events become even more unpredictable.
There is no single solution that will shield Sri Lanka from every future storm. Yet there are many steps the country can take to reduce risk, strengthen communities and build resilience. These efforts will require resources, planning and political will. They will demand cooperation across regions, sectors and generations. Above all, they will require recognising that climate change is not someone else’s problem. It is a shared challenge that demands collective responsibility.
The recent disasters have served as a warning and a call to action. They have shown how quickly weather can turn violent and how deeply it can disrupt daily life. But they have also shown the urgency of preparing for a hotter and more unpredictable world. Sri Lanka has the knowledge and the capability to adapt. Its people have the determination. If these strengths are harnessed with foresight and compassion, the country can chart a safer path through the stormy decades ahead.
Climate change may be reshaping the monsoon, but it does not have to dictate Sri Lanka’s destiny. With the right choices, the island can remain not only a place of natural beauty but also a place of resilience, hope and human connection in the face of a changing planet.
(The writer is an environmentalist.)
by Vincent David ✍️
-
News4 days ago
Lunuwila tragedy not caused by those videoing Bell 212: SLAF
-
News3 days agoLevel III landslide early warning continue to be in force in the districts of Kandy, Kegalle, Kurunegala and Matale
-
Latest News5 days agoLevel III landslide early warnings issued to the districts of Badulla, Kandy, Kegalle, Kurunegala, Matale and Nuwara-Eliya
-
Features5 days agoDitwah: An unusual cyclone
-
Latest News6 days agoUpdated Payment Instructions for Disaster Relief Contributions
-
News1 day agoA 6th Year Accolade: The Eternal Opulence of My Fair Lady
-
Latest News6 days agoLandslide Early Warnings issued to the Districts of Badulla, Colombo, Gampaha, Kalutara, Kandy, Kegalle, Kurunegala, Matale, Moneragala, Nuwara Eliya and Ratnapura
-
News1 day agoCPC delegation meets JVP for talks on disaster response

