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Nalin de Silva, his world and our worlds

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Nalin de Silva

It is hard to think of any Sri Lankan academic who has been vilified the way Nalin Kumar De Silva was. Nalin was not averse to calling out his ideological opponents and not in very polite terms either, but all those epithets essentially boiled down to ‘Pawns of the West,’ nothing more. He was, on the other hand, called racist, chauvinist and warmonger. Some, who obviously were clueless about ‘nation’ would call him ‘nationalist’ as though that was some kind of four-letter word.

There were others who referred to Nalin and his ideological comrade Gunadasa Amarasekera as ‘native intellectuals.’ They probably didn’t understand the word ‘intellect’ and its derivatives. I believe it was Nalin or maybe it was Gunadasa who observed that the term implied ‘international intellectuals.’ Perhaps those who called them ‘native intellectuals’ did so to confer upon themselves the tag ‘international intellectual’ but the very use of the term disqualified them, obviously. Pawns they were and are, Nalin believed.

The more informed, less threatened and less malicious referred to him as one of the two top ideologues of what was known as the ‘Jathika Chinthanaya School’ (the other being Gunadasa). No one has really succeeded in translating ‘Jathika Chinthanaya’ into English. ‘National Ideology’ somehow seems crude and erroneous. Those who subscribed to this school of thought, however, knew. They had a sense.

Nalin passed away in California, USA just a few hours before I started writing this. The final rites will be held from 1 to 5 pm (PST) on Sunday, May 5 at Fremont Blvd, Fremont. It is probably too soon to offer a comprehensive review of his work, as a teacher, political activist and thinker. It has to be mostly anecdotal but maybe that’s all I can do, not having associated with him closely.

Like most people who ‘knew’ Nalin, knowledge came mostly from reading what he has written. ‘Magey Lokaya’ (My world), probably the essay that best captures his theoretical explorations, is probably one of the most influential political treatises of the late 20th century. There were other books which addressed what was dubbed ‘The ethnic conflict’ where Nalin cogently tore apart the creative historiography of Eelamists and their apologists who had many axes to grind with the Sinhalese and/or Buddhists. In addition there were innumerable articles published weekly in the Divaina, Vidusara and later in the Midweek Review of ‘The Island.’ I’ll come to those later.

The first time I met him was when I went to see my friend and teacher Arjuna Parakrama. This was in the early 1990s. We were walking towards the ‘Open Canteen’ of the Colombo University when we ran into Nalin. Apparently the two had agreed to a debate. Arjuna said something about the logistics and added, ‘we must make sure we don’t become pawns of other people.’ Nalin muttered something with a laugh and walked away. Arjuna had heard: ‘he said I am a pawn.’ Arjuna didn’t take it as an insult. I don’t know if the debate did take place, but Arjuna told me years later that Nalin had acknowledged that he, Arjuna, was a good trade unionist. This was when Nalin had been suspended by the university.

My first one-on-one encounter happened in the late nineties. I was a student in the USA at the time and had written to Nalin. I was politically associated with the ‘Janatha Mithuro’ then and felt that Nalin’s ongoing clashes with Champika Ranawaka were unnecessary. I mentioned this. Nalin replied. He was ‘soft’ in the criticism. He merely stated, ‘No one disputes that Champika is very bright, but he should acknowledge the source of his ideas.

’ Champika, after he disassociated himself from the JVP-led student movement, was one of the prominent acolytes of Nalin’s ‘Chinthana Parshadaya.’ Convinced that a political movement and not a forum to discuss ideological/philosophical matters was what was needed, he, along with other young people who had become skeptical about Marxism, launched first the Ratawesi Peramuna and later the Janatha Mithuro. Nalin was one of their strongest critics.

I met him next at the Divaina editorial office. It must have been in 2001. I was working at the Sunday Island but enjoyed spending an hour or two at the Divaina. One day I saw Nalin and after saying hello, asked him if he had come to hand over an article. What follows is the rough English translation of what he told me in Sinhala. ‘No Malinda. You know, it’s a small amount that they pay me, but it is not small for me; even so it is irregular.’ It was the only income he had at the time.

In 2006 in Celigny, Switzerland, at a media opportunity just prior to the commencement of talks between the Government and the LTTE, I casually asked Jehan Perera of the National Peace Council who happened to be there, ‘how many people could you get to Lipton Circus for a protest if you didn’t have funding?’ Jehan, ideologically at odds with me though he was, offered an honest response: ‘probably none.’

That was the difference. The NGOs had bucks. They had, in 2002, a government committed to federalism and a president who was not in disagreement. They had both the private and state media at their disposal. The nationalists had Nalin and a few others.
The 1990s were all about federalism. Those opposed to federalism were called warmongers, racists and chauvinists. Nalin got a lot of that. And yet, after it had led to the ridiculous Ceasefire Agreement signed on February 22, 2002 and the consequent pantomime of ‘peace’ talks, federalism became a joke. The UPFA routed the UNP in April 2004 and Mahinda Rajapaksa pipped Ranil Wickremesinghe at the presidential election the following year, admittedly with some help from the LTTE which called for a boycott, probably costing Ranil the election.

That turn around in the fortunes of the nationalists may have surprised the Anglicized sections of the population, but what they probably never understood is the role played by Nalin, Gunadasa and others for well over two decades countering every lie of the Eelsmists, their apologists and other colonial remnants who can’t get enough of the English and English.

Several years later, in a new political avatar where he spoke of the bodisatva ‘Natha Deyyo,’ inviting much ridicule and invective, paradoxically from those who fervently believe in a creator god, immaculate conception, rising from the dead and so on, Nalin wrote ‘Batahira vidyava saha deviyo (Western science and god).’ I was invited to speak at the launch, as was Prof Carlo Fonseka.

Carlo, as irrepressible as Nalin, opted to focus on a chapter that the author had suggested he avoid. Nalin, responding, completely refuted Carlo. He had said, in Sinhala, ‘I didn’t want to do that to him; I knew I would have to if he chose to focus on that chapter; he did and I had no choice but to take him apart.’

In retrospect one could argue that Nalin should have avoided supporting politicians and political parties, but those moments hardly make a dent in the enormous contributions he has made to the political and ideological discourse in and on post Independence Sri Lanka. At worst, his texts need to be engaged with. Indeed, his detractors cannot but have a conversation with his works.

Nalin, for all his lectures on the chathuskotikaya (in opposition to the dvikotiyaka or the dialectic) was eminently dialectic in his political engagements, possibly a habit acquired during his Trotskyite days which he failed to shed after he felt Marxism was an inadequate and even erroneous doctrine. This is probably why he was often ‘in your fact’ with political and ideological opponents and found it hard to work with and develop a group of like-minded thinkers/activists. Again, this is hardly a serious crime. To me, anyway, he was an exceptional thinker and an influencer unlike any other over the past 40 years.

Nalin was indefatigable. He was all over the newspapers and when social media became fashionable he adapted quickly, writing daily posts using language appropriate to this new media culture. His last post was just a few days ago; in fact he mentioned that he was unwell and will not be writing for a few days. He won’t write again but he’s written so much that it would take years for anyone to go through the full corpus of his writings. He was, in his writing and his engagements, relentless.

May his sojourn through Sansara be brief.

Malinda Seneviratne



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Opinion

Thoughts for Unduvap Poya

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Arrival of Arahant Bhikkuni Sangamitta

Unduvap Poya, which falls today, has great historical significance for Sri Lanka, as several important events occurred on that day but before looking into these, as the occasion demands, our first thought should be about impermanence. One of the cornerstones of Buddha’s teachings is impermanence and there is no better time to ponder over it than now, as the unfolding events of the unprecedented natural disaster exemplify it. Who would have imagined, even a few days ago, the scenes of total devastation we are witnessing now; vast swathes of the country under floodwaters due to torrential rain, multitudes of earth slips burying alive entire families with their hard-built properties and closing multiple trunk roads bringing the country to a virtual standstill. The best of human kindness is also amply demonstrated as many risk their own lives to help those in distress.

In the struggle of life, we are attached and accumulate many things, wanted and unwanted, including wealth overlooking the fact that all this could disappear in a flash, as happened to an unfortunate few during this calamitous time. Even the survivors, though they are happy that they survived, are left with anxiety, apprehension, and sorrow, all of which is due to attachment. We are attached to things because we fail to realise the importance of impermanence. If we do, we would be less attached and less affected. Realisation of the impermanent nature of everything is the first step towards ultimate detachment.

It was on a day like this that Arahant Bhikkhuni Sanghamitta arrived in Lanka Deepa bringing with her a sapling of the Sri Maha Bodhi tree under which Prince Siddhartha attained Enlightenment. She was sent by her father Emperor Ashoka, at the request of Arahant Mahinda who had arrived earlier and established Buddhism formally under the royal patronage of King Devanampiyatissa. With the very successful establishment of Bhikkhu Sasana, as there was a strong clamour for the establishment of Bhikkhuni Sasana as well, Arahant Mahinda requested his father to send his sister which was agreed to by Emperor Ashoka, though reluctantly as he would be losing two of his children. In fact, both served Lanka Deepa till their death, never returning to the country of their birth. Though Arahant Sanghamitta’s main mission was otherwise, her bringing a sapling of the Bo tree has left an indelible imprint in the annals of our history.

According to chronicles, King Devanampiyatissa planted the Bo sapling in Mahamevnawa Park in Anuradhapura in 288 BCE, which continues to thrive, making it the oldest living human planted tree in the world with a known planting date. It is a treasure that needs to be respected and protected at all costs. However, not so long ago it was nearly destroyed by the idiocy of worshippers who poured milk on the roots. Devotion clouding reality, they overlooked the fact that a tree needs water, not milk!

A monk developed a new practice of Bodhi Puja, which even today attracts droves of devotees and has become a ritual. This would have been the last thing the Buddha wanted! He expressed gratitude by gazing at the tree, which gave him shelter during the most crucial of times, for a week but did not want his followers to go around worshipping similar trees growing all over. Instead of following the path the Buddha laid for us, we seem keen on inventing new rituals to indulge in!

Arahant Sanghamitta achieved her prime objective by establishing the Bhikkhuni Sasana which thrived for nearly 1200 years till it fell into decline with the fall of the Anuradhapura kingdom. Unfortunately, during the Polonnaruwa period that followed the influence of Hinduism over Buddhism increased and some of the Buddhist values like equality of sexes and anti-casteism were lost. Subsequently, even the Bhikkhu Sasana went into decline. Higher ordination for Bhikkhus was re-established in 1753 CE with the visit of Upali Maha Thera from Siam which formed the basis of Siam Maha Nikaya. Upali Maha Thero is also credited with reorganising Kandy Esala Perahera to be the annual Procession of the Temple of Tooth, which was previously centred around the worship of deities, by getting a royal decree: “Henceforth Gods and men are to follow the Buddha”

In 1764 CE, Siyam Nikaya imposed a ‘Govigama and Radala’ exclusivity, disregarding a fundamental tenet of the Buddha, apparently in response to an order from the King! Fortunately, Buddhism was saved from the idiocy of Siyam Nikaya by the formation of Amarapura Nikaya in 1800 CE and Ramanna Nikaya in 1864 CE, higher ordination for both obtained from Burma. None of these Niakya’s showed any interest in the re-establishment of Bhikkhuni Sasana which was left to a band of interested and determined ladies.

My thoughts and admiration, on the day Bhikkhuni Sasana was originally established, go to these pioneers whose determination knew no bounds. They overcame enormous difficulties and obtained higher ordination from South Korea initially. Fortunately, Ven. Inamaluwe Sri Sumangala Thero, Maha Nayaka of Rangiri Dambulla Chapter of Siyam Maha Nikaya started offering higher ordination to Bhikkhunis in 1998 but state recognition became a sore point. When Venerable Welimada Dhammadinna Bhikkhuni was denied official recognition as a Bhikkhuni on her national identity card she filed action, with the support of Ven. Inamaluwe Sri Sumangala Thero. In a landmark majority judgement delivered on 16 June, the Supreme Court ruled that the fundamental rights of Ven. Dhammadinna were breached and also Bhikkhuni Sasana was re-established in Sri Lanka. As this judgement did not receive wide publicity, I wrote a piece titled “Buddhism, Bhikkhus and Bhikkhunis” (The Island, 10 July 2025) and my wish for this Unduvap Poya is what I stated therein:

“The landmark legal battle won by Bhikkhunis is a victory for common sense more than anything else. I hope it will help Bhikkhuni Sasana flourish in Sri Lanka. The number of devotees inviting Bhikkhunis to religious functions is increasing. May Bhikkhunis receive the recognition they richly deserve.” May there be a rapid return to normalcy from the current tragic situation.”

by Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Royal Over Eighties

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Royal College

The gathering was actually of ‘Over Seventies’ but those of my generation present were mostly of the late eighties.

Even of them I shall mention only those whom I know at least by name. But, first, to those few of my years and older with whom speech was possible.

First among them, in more sense than one, was Nihal Seneviratne, at ninety-one probably the oldest present. There is no truth to the story that his state of crisp well-being is attributable to the consumption of gul-bunis in his school days. It is traceable rather to a life well lived. His practice of regular walks around the house and along the lane on which he lives may have contributed to his erect posture. As also to the total absence of a walking stick, a helper, or any other form of assistance as he walked into the Janaki hotel where this gathering took place.

Referencing the published accounts of his several decades-long service in Parliament as head of its administration, it would be moot to recall that his close friend and fellow lawyer, J E D Gooneratne, teased him in the following terms: “You will be a bloody clerk all your life”. He did join service as Second Assistant to the Clerk to the House and moved up, but the Clerk became the Secretary General. Regardless of such matters of nomenclature, it could be said that Nihal Seneviratne ran the show.

Others present included Dr. Ranjith de Silva, Surgeon, who was our cricket Captain and, to the best of my knowledge, has the distinction of never engaging in private practice.

The range of Dr. K L (Lochana) Gunaratne’s interests and his accomplishments within each are indeed remarkable. I would think that somebody who’d received his initial training at the AA School of Architecture in London would continue to have architecture as the foundation of his likes /dislikes. Such would also provide a road map to other pursuits whether immediately related to that field or not. That is evident in the leadership roles he has played in the National Academy of Sciences and the Institute of Town Planners among others. As I recall he has also addressed issues related to the Panadura Vadaya.

My memories of D L Seneviratne at school were associated with tennis. As happens, D L had launched his gift for writing over three decades ago with a history of tennis in Sri Lanka (1991). That is a game with which my acquaintance is limited to sending a couple of serves past his ear (not ‘tossing the ball across’ as he asked me to) while Jothilingam, long much missed, waited for his team mates to come for practices. It is a game at which my father spent much time both at the Railway sports club and at our home-town club. (By some kind of chance, I recovered just a week ago the ‘Fred de Saram Challenge Cup’ which, on his winning the Singles for the third time, Koo de Saram came over to the Kandana Club to hand over to him for keeps. They played an exhibition match which father won). D L would know whether or not, as I have heard, in an exhibition match in Colombo, Koo defeated Frank Sedgman, who was on his triumphant return home to Oz after he had won the Wimbledon tournament in London.

I had no idea that D L has written any books till my son brought home the one on the early history of Royal under Marsh and Boake, (both long-bearded young men in their twenties).

It includes a rich assortment of photographs of great value to those who are interested in the history of the Anglican segment of Christian missionary activity here in the context of its contribution to secondary school education. Among them is one of the school as it appeared on moving to Thurstan road from Mutwal. It has been extracted from the History of Royal, 1931,  done by students (among whom a relative, Palitha Weeraman, had played a significant role).

As D L shows, (in contra-distinction to the Catholic schools) the CMS had engaged in a largely secular practice. Royal remained so through our time – when one could walk into the examination room and answer questions framed to test one’s knowledge of Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism and Islam; a knowledge derived mostly from the lectures delivered by an Old Boy at general assembly on Friday plus readings from the Dhammapada, the Bhagavad Gita, the St. John’s version of the Bible or the Koran recited by a student at senior assembly on Tuesday / Thursday.

 D L’s history of Royal College had followed in 2006.

His writing is so rich in detail, so precise in formulation, that I would consider this brief note a simple prompt towards a publisher bringing out new editions at different levels of cost.

It was also a pleasure to meet Senaka Amarasinghe, as yet flaunting his Emperor profile, and among the principal organisers of this event.

The encounter with I S de Silva, distinguished attorney, who was on Galle road close to Janaki lane, where I lived then was indeed welcome. As was that with Upali Mendis, who carried out cataract surgery on my mother oh so long ago when he was head of the Eye Hospital. His older brother, L P, was probably the most gifted student in chemistry in our time.

Most serendipitous perhaps was meeting a son of one of our most popular teachers from the 1950s, – Connor Rajaratnam. His cons were a caution.

by Gamini Seneviratne

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“Regulatory Impact Assessment – Not a bureaucratic formality but essentially an advocacy tool for smarter governance”: A response

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Having meticulously read and re-read the above article published in the opinion page of The Island on the 27 Nov, I hasten to make a critical review on the far-reaching proposal made by the co-authors, namely Professor Theekshana Suraweera, Chairman of the Sri Lanka Standards Institution and Dr. Prabath.C.Abeysiriwardana, Director of Ministry of Science and Technology

The aforesaid article provides a timely and compelling critique of Sri Lanka’s long-standing gaps in evidence-based policymaking and argues persuasively for the institutional adoption of Regulatory Impact Assessment (RIA). In a context where policy missteps have led to severe economic and social consequences, the article functions as an essential wake-up call—highlighting RIA not as a bureaucratic formality but as a foundational tool for smarter governance.

One of the article’s strongest contributions is its clear explanation of how regulatory processes currently function in Sri Lanka: legislation is drafted with narrow legal scrutiny focused mainly on constitutional compliance, with little or no structured assessment of economic, social, cultural, or environmental impacts. The author strengthens this argument with well-chosen examples—the sudden ban on chemical fertilizer imports and the consequences of the 1956 Official Language Act—demonstrating how untested regulation can have far-reaching negative outcomes. These cases effectively illustrate the dangers of ad hoc policymaking and underscore the need for a formal review mechanism.

The article also succeeds in demystifying RIA by outlining its core steps—problem definition, option analysis, impact assessment, stakeholder consultation, and post-implementation review. This breakdown makes it clear that RIA is not merely a Western ideal but a practical, structured, and replicable process that could greatly improve policymaking in Sri Lanka. The references to international best practices (such as the role of OIRA in the United States) lend credibility and global context, showing that RIA is not experimental but an established standard in advanced governance systems.

However, the article could have further strengthened its critique by addressing the political economy of reform: the structural incentives, institutional resistance, and political culture that have historically obstructed such tools in Sri Lanka. While the challenges of data availability, quantification, and political pressure are briefly mentioned, a deeper analysis of why evidence-based policymaking has not taken root—and how to overcome these systemic barriers—would have offered greater practical value.

Another potential enhancement would be the inclusion of local micro-level examples where smaller-scale regulations backfired due to insufficient appraisal. This would help illustrate that the problem is not limited to headline-making policy failures but affects governance at every level.

Despite these minor limitations, the article is highly effective as an advocacy piece. It makes a strong case that RIA could transform Sri Lanka’s regulatory landscape by institutionalizing foresight, transparency, and accountability. Its emphasis on aligning RIA with ongoing national initiatives—particularly the strengthening of the National Quality Infrastructure—demonstrates both pragmatism and strategic vision.

At a time, when Chairmen of statutory bodies appointed by the NPP government play a passive voice, the candid opinion expressed by the CEO of SLSI on the necessity of a Regulatory Impact Assessment is an important and insightful contribution. It highlights a critical missing link in Sri Lanka’s policy environment and provides a clear call to action. If widely circulated and taken seriously by policymakers, academics, and civil society, it could indeed become the eye-opener needed to push Sri Lanka toward more rational, responsible, and future-ready governance.

J. A. A. S. Ranasinghe,
Productivity Specialty and Management Consultant
(rathula49@gmail.com)

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