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London Exhibition of Universal Adult Franchise

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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)



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Features

Peace march and promise of reconciliation

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Peace walk in progress

The ongoing peace march by a group of international Buddhist monks has captured the sentiment of Sri Lankans in a manner that few public events have done in recent times. It is led by the Vietnamese monk Venerable Thich Pannakara who is associated with a mindfulness movement that has roots in Vietnamese Buddhist practice and actively promoted among diaspora communities in the United States. The peace march by the monks, accompanied by their mascot, the dog Aloka, has generated affection and goodwill within the Buddhist and larger community. It follows earlier peace walks in the United States where monks carried a similar message of mindfulness and compassion across communities but without any government or even media patronage as in Sri Lanka.

This initiative has the potential to unfold into an effort to nurture a culture of peace in Sri Lanka. Such a culture is necessary if the country as the country prepares to move beyond its history of conflict towards a more longlasting reconciliation and a political solution to its ethnic and religious divisions. The government’s support for the peace march can be seen as part of a broader attempt to shape such a culture. The Clean Sri Lanka programme, promoted by the government as a civic responsibility campaign focused on environmental cleanliness, ethical conduct and social discipline, provides a useful framework within which such initiatives can be situated. Its emphasis on collective responsibility and shared public space makes it sit well with the values that peacebuilding requires.

government’s previous plan to promote a culture of peace was on the occasion of “Sri Lanka Day” celebrations which were scheduled to take place on December 12-14 last year but was disrupted by Cyclone Ditwah. The Sri Lanka Day celebrations were to include those talented individuals from each and every community at the district level who had excelled in some field or the other, such as science, business or arts and culture and selected by the District Secretariats in each of the 25 districts. They were to gather in Colombo to engage in cultural performances and community-focused exhibitions. The government’s intention was to build up a discourse around the ideas of unity in diversity as a precursor to addressing the more contentious topics of human rights violations during the war period, and issues of accountability and reparations for wrongs suffered during that dark period.

Positive Response

The invitation to the international monks appears to have emerged from within Buddhist religious networks in Sri Lanka that have long maintained links with the larger international Buddhist community. The strong support extended by leading temples and clergy within the country, including the Buddhists Mahanayakes indicates that this was not an isolated effort but one that resonated with the mainstream Buddhist establishment. Indeed, the involvement of senior Buddhist leaders has been particularly noteworthy. A Joint Declaration for Peace in the world, drawing on Sri Lanka’s own experience, and by the Mahanayakes of all Buddhist Chapters took place in the context of the ongoing peace march at the Gangaramaya Temple in Colombo, with participation from the diplomatic community. The declaration, calling for compassion, dialogue and sustainable peace, reflects an effort by religious leadership to assert a moral voice in favour of coexistence.

The popular response to the peace march has also been striking. Large numbers of people have been gathering along the route, offering flowers, water and support to the monks. Schoolchildren have been lining the roads, and communities from different religious backgrounds extend hospitality. On the way, the monks were hosted by both a Hindu temple and a mosque, where food and refreshments were provided. These acts, though simple, carry a message about the possibility of harmony among Sri Lanka’s diverse communities. It helps to counter the perception that the Buddhist community in Sri Lanka is inherently nationalist and resistant to minority concerns that was shaped during the decades of war and reinforced by political mobilisation that too often exploited ethnic identity.

By way of contrast, the peace march offers a different image. It shows a readiness among ordinary people to embrace values of compassion and coexistence that are deeply embedded in Buddhist teaching. The Metta Sutta, one of the most well-known discourses in Buddhism, calls for boundless goodwill towards all beings. It states that one should cultivate a mind that is “boundless towards all beings, free from hatred and ill will.” This emphasis on universal compassion provides a moral foundation for peace that extends beyond national or ethnic boundaries. The monks themselves emphasised this point repeatedly during the walk. Venerable Thich Pannakara reminded those who gathered that while acts of generosity are commendable, mindfulness in everyday life is even more important. He warned that as people become unmindful, they are more prone to react with anger and hatred, thereby contributing to conflict.

More Initiatives

The presence of political leaders at key moments of the march has emphasised the significance that the government attaches to the event. Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya paid her respects to the peace march monks in Kandy, while President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is expected to do so at the conclusion of the march in Colombo. Such gestures signal an alignment between political authority and moral aspiration, even if the translation of that aspiration into policy remains a work in progress. At the same time, the peace march has not been without its shortcomings. The walk did not engage with the Northern and Eastern parts of the country, regions that were most affected by the war and where the need for reconciliation is most acute. A more inclusive geographic reach would have strengthened the symbolic impact of the initiative.

In addition, the positive impact of the peace march could have been increased if more effort had been taken to coordinate better with other civic and religious groups and include them in the event. Many civil society and religious harmony groups who would have liked to participate in the peace march found themselves unable to do so. There was no place in the programme for them to join. Even government institutions tasked with promoting social cohesion and reconciliation found themselves outside the loop. The Clean Sri Lanka Task Force that organised the peace march may have felt that involving other groups would have made it more complicated to organise the events which have proceeded without problems.

The hope is that the positive energy and goodwill generated by this peace march will not dissipate but will instead inspire further initiatives with the requisite coordination and leadership. The march has generated public discussion, drawn attention to the values of mindfulness and compassion, and created a space in which people can imagine a different future. It has been a special initiative among the many that are needed to build a culture of peace. A culture of peace cannot be imposed from above nor can it emerge overnight. It needs to be nurtured through multiple efforts across society, including education, religious engagement, civic initiatives and political reform. It is within such a culture that the more difficult questions of power sharing, justice and reconciliation can be addressed in a constructive manner.

by Jehan Perera

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Regional Universities

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Development initiatives: Faculty of Technology, University of Jaffna and NCDB

The countryside and peripheral regions have been neglected in the national imagination for many decades. This has also been the case with regional universities which were seen as mere appendages to the university system, and sometimes created to appease political constituencies in the regions. The exclusion of the rural world and the institutions in those regions was not accidental nor inevitable, but the consequence of conscious policies promoted under an extractive and exploitative global order. Neoliberalism globalisation, initiated in the late 1970s with far-reaching policies of free trade and free flow of capital, or the “open economy,” as we call it in Sri Lanka, is now dying. The United States and the Western countries that promoted neoliberalism, as a class project of finance capital to address the falling profits during the long economic downturn in the 1970s, are themselves reversing their policies and are at loggerheads with each other. However, those economic processes will continue to have national consequences into the future.

At the heart of such policies is the neoliberal city, which has become the centre of the economy with expanding financial businesses and a real estate boom. Such financialised cities also had their impact on universities, in lower income countries, where commercialised education with high fees, rising student debt, research for businesses and transnational educational linkages with branch campuses of Western universities, have become a reality.

In the case of Sri Lanka, while neoliberal policies began with the IMF and World Bank Structural Adjustment Programmes, in the late 1970s, the long civil war forestalled the accelerated growth of the neoliberal city. I have argued, over the last decade and a half, that it is with the end of the civil war, in 2009, coinciding with the global financial crisis, that a second wave of neoliberalism in Sri Lanka led to global finance capital being absorbed in infrastructure and real estate in Colombo. The transformation of Colombo into a neoliberal city was overseen by Gotabaya Rajapaksa as Defence Secretary with even the Urban Development Authority brought under the security establishment. While Colombo was drastically changing with a skyline of new buildings and shiny luxury vehicles drawing on massive external debt, there were also moves to promote private higher education institutions. The Board of Investment (BOI) registered many hundred so-called higher education institutions; these were not regulated and many mushroomed like supermarkets and disappeared in no time when they incurred losses.

In contrast to these so-called private higher education institutions that proliferated in and around Colombo, Sri Lanka, drawing on its free education system, has, over the last many decades, also created a number of state universities in peripheral regions. However, these regional universities lack adequate funding and a clear vision and purpose. The current conjuncture with the neoliberal global order unravelling, and the immediate global crisis in energy and transport are grim reminders of the importance of local economies and self-sufficiency. In this column I consider the role of our regional universities and their relationship to the communities within which they are embedded.

Regional context

The necessity and the advantage of robust public services is their reach into peripheral regions and marginalised communities. This is true of public transport, as it is with public hospitals. Private buses will always avoid isolated rural routes as their margins only increase on the busy routes between cities and towns. And private hospitals and clinics flock to the cities to extract from desperate patients, including by unscrupulous doctors who divert patients in public hospitals to be served in the private health facilities they moonlight. Similarly, it is affluent cities and towns that are the attraction for private educational institutions.

Public institutions, including universities, can only ensure their public role if they are adequately funded. Over the last decade and a half, with falling allocations for education, our state universities have been pushed into initiating fee levying courses, both at the post-graduate level and also for undergraduate international students. These programmes are seen as avenues to decrease the dependence of universities on budgetary support. However, the reality is that it is only universities in Colombo that can draw in students capable of paying such high fees. Furthermore, such fee levying courses end up pushing academics into overwork including by offering additional income.

Therefore, allocations for underfunded regional universities need to be steadily increased. Housing facilities and other services for academics working in rural districts would ensure their continued presence and greater engagement with the local communities. Increased time away from teaching and research funding earmarked for community engagement will provide clear direction for academics. Indeed, such funding with a clear vision and role for regional universities can provide considerable social returns. In a time when repeated crises are affecting our society, agricultural production to bolster our food system as well as rural income streams and employment are major issues. Here, regional universities have an important role today in developing social and economic alternatives.

Reimagining development

In recent months, there have been interesting initiatives in the Northern Province, where the Universities of Jaffna and Vavuniya have been engaging state institutions on issues of development. In an initiative to bring different actors together, high level meetings have been convened between the staff of the Agriculture Faculty and officials of the Provincial Agriculture Ministry to figure out solutions for long pending agricultural problems. Similar meetings have also been organised between provincial authorities and the Faculties of Technology and Engineering in Kilinochchi. These initiatives have led to academics engaging communities and co-operatives on their development needs, particularly in formulating new development initiatives and activating idle projects and assets in the region. Such engagement provides opportunities for academics to share their knowledge and skills while learn from communities about challenges that lead to new problems for research.

One of the most rewarding engagements I have been part of is an internship programme for the Technology Faculty of the University of Jaffna, where four batches of final year students, from food technology, green farming and automobile specialities, have been placed for six months within the co-operative movement through the Northern Co-operative Development Bank. This initiative has created a strong relationship between the Technology Faculty and the co-operative movement, with a number of former students now working fulltime in co-operative ventures. They are at the centre of developing solutions for rural co-operatives, including activating idle factories and ensuring quality and standards for their products.

I refer to these concrete initiatives because universities’ role in research and development in Sri Lanka, as in most other countries, are often narrowly conceived to be engagement with private businesses. However, for rural regions, the challenge, even with technological development, is the generation of appropriate technologies that can serve communities.

In Sri Lanka, we have for long emulated the major Western universities and in the process lost sight of the needs of our own youth and communities. Rethinking the development of our universities may have to begin with an understanding of the real challenges and context of our people. Our universities and their academics, if provided with a progressive vision and adequate resources and time to engage their communities, have the potential to address the many economic and social challenges that the next decade of global turmoil is bound to create.

Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.

(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)

by Ahilan Kadirgamar

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‘Disco Lady’ hitmaker now doing it for Climate Change

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The name Alston Koch is generally associated with the hit song ‘Disco Lady.’ Yes, he has had several other top-notch songs to his credit but how many music lovers are aware that Alston is one of the few Asian-born entertainers using music for climate advocacy, since 2008.

He is back in the ‘climate change’ scene, with SUNx Malta, to celebrate Earth Day 2026, with the release of ‘A Symphony for Change’ – a vibrant Dodo4Kids video by Alston.

The inspiring musical video highlights ocean conservation and empowers children as future climate champions, honouring Maurice Strong’s legacy through education, creativity, and global collaboration for a sustainable planet.

The four-minute animated musical, composed and performed by platinum award-winning artiste Alston Koch, brings to life a resurrected Dodo, guiding children on a mission to clean up marine environments.

With a catchy melody and an uplifting message, the video blends entertainment with education—making climate awareness accessible and engaging for the next generation.

SUNx Malta is a Climate Friendly Travel system, focused on transforming the global tourism sector that is low-carbon, SDG-linked, and nature-positive.

Professor Geoffrey Lipman, President of SUNx Malta, described the project as a joyful collaboration with purpose:

“It’s always a pleasure to produce music with Alston for the good of our planet. And this time, to incorporate our Dodo4Kids in the video urging the next generation of young climate champions to help save our seas.”

For Alston, now based in Australia, the collaboration continues a long-standing journey of climate-focused creativity:

Says Alston: “I have been working on climate songs since the first release, in 2009, of the video ‘Act Now.’ Since then, I’ve performed at major global events—from Bali to Glasgow. I wrote this song because the climate horizon is darkening, and our kids and grandkids are our best hope for a brighter future.”

Alston’s very first climate song is ‘Can We Take This Climate Change,’ released in 2008.

It was written by Alston for the World Trade Organisation presentation, in London, and presented at ‘Live the Deal Climate Change’ conference in Copenhagen.

The Sri Lankan-born singer was goodwill ambassador for the campaign, and the then UK Minister Barbara Follett called it a “gift in song to the world suffering due to climate change.”

Alston said he wrote it after noticing butterflies, birds, and fruit trees disappearing from his childhood days.

In 2017, his creation ‘Make a Change’ was released in connection with World Tourism Day 2017.

Alston Koch’s work on climate advocacy is pretty inspiring, especially as climate change is now creating horrifying problems worldwide, and in Sri Lanka, too.

Alston also indicated to us that he has plans to visit Sri Lanka, sometime this year, and, maybe, even plan out a date for an Alston Koch special … a concert, no doubt.

Can’t wait for it!

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