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National schools, provincial schools, and international schools: A state-consented neo-caste system

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Image courtesy IPS

by Lokubanda Tillakaratne

News of outrageous and probably questionable horizontal distribution of close to 900 million rupees from the President’s Fund to factions of politicians for supposed medical treatment brought back memories of disappointment after the explanation I received from the President’s Office in March 2024 when I called to see whether it could give  two million rupees to my school of 200 students in Maradankalla, in the Galenbindunuwewa Education Zone, to build a 20ft x20ft small pavilion on its playground.  Section 6 of the President’s Fund Act No. 7 of 1978 allows the distribution of funding for ‘education or knowledge.’

I called after seeing a copy of a letter issued by the President’s office in December 2023 addressed to an Armed Service Head notifying him of releasing a check for 24 million rupees to build a swimming pool at a national school.

When my call got through, the person I spoke to told me that the President’s office funded only National Schools (NS), and smaller village schools, like mine, must contact the Governor of the Province for funds.

CASTE QUARTET OF OUR EDUCATION AND HISTORY

The President’s Office fund distribution practice has proved that we have an asymmetric support mechanism and education they dispense in our schools. The Ministry of Education and BOI are directing three different systems rooted in an Urban-Rural divide to educate our children. They are NSs, the PSs, i.e., rural, the mushrooming International School business (IS), and the business arm of education—the Tuition class pantheon.

This practice mimics the reviled caste systems that controlled Sri Lankan society until the mid-20th century.  This thought gave me a jolt and conjured back a time way back when cold, shameful caste was the norm of the day.  As a boy in the early 1950s, I remember a 6’ 8″ giant of a gentle, grandfatherly man from a neighbouring lower caste village, removing his headscarf and stepping aside on the tank bund and standing still until a group of chattering boys from this supposedly ‘higher caste’ village walked past him.

According to historian K. M. De Silva, in the 1880s, Charles Bruce, the Director of Education, argued that primary education of the village child must equip him for the “humble career which ordinarily lies before them.” The Bruce Education Code at the time imposed high tuition fees in English and Anglo-Vernacular schools to make it a barrier and challenging for those less elitist sections in the society to learn English.  Limiting English education access then to village children was the policy, and it had defenders. J. P. Obeysekere, Sinhalese Representative in the Legislative Council, supported the Bruce Education Code, stating “that the children of the rural poor would be (then) forced to follow such avocations as they are fitted for by nature.”  By not advancing the education of rural kids, if we are thinking of creating a labour force to work in the fields only to produce rice to feed the nation, then the present story must change to stop it from drifting back to the wrong side of history.

 FAR APART MAKEUP OF THE QUARTET

This caste discussion embodies three different types of schools – NS, PS (Village Schools), and IS. These schools differ on an urban-rural divide, emulating past caste dynamics I mentioned.  A village school does not have an influential past pupils’ Association, a characteristic, among other things, enshrined in the preamble in elevating a school to national status. Meanwhile, half a dozen parents form a School Development Committee to lobby for their children in a village school silently.  The NS Past Pupils’ groups work with an all-out fervor on behalf of the school.

Schools and learning are two distinct things.  They can be physically bigger or smaller, some with wrought iron gates with finials standing as sentinels between crenelated parapet walls representing glamour and fame. In the village school, the gate is for entry and exit and to prevent grazing cows from entering the schoolyard. But learning is the soul of any school. Therefore, it demands both school systems – NS and PS – to foster learning on equal terms, adhering to a one-size-fits-all motto.

Contrary to the PSs, NS never had a problem attracting teachers. Teachers come with vested interests and incentives, such as the privilege of admitting their kids to school (which I have no problem with), and economic opportunities associated with after-school private tuition.

It is puzzling that the same students they teach during school hours become their paying customers in the bustling warehouse-like evening tuition class, an uncontrolled monster eating into parents’ pockets. Indeed, I applaud the Western Province PC for identifying this vulgarity and becoming the bellwether to stop teachers’ after-school tuition practice.

 NS facilities are top-of-the-line.  Its computer lab is air-tight, climate-controlled 24/7, and built as a showpiece right as you enter the school.  Former Presidents have graced them at the opening to earn political capital. Meanwhile, my village school has a small computer room; half of the computers are inoperative; there is no A/C to inject life into the remaining few.

Many NSs pride themselves in having a swimming pool, ICC-standard cricket pitches, and a playground with finery of manicured grass with sprinklers showering it with intervals of atomic accuracy.  A couple of groundskeepers work diligently searching for pale-coloured turf to replace. Its pavilion is a treat to the eye. Political royalty and princely educators assemble here annually to enjoy the inter-house sports meet.

Meanwhile, in my village school, the playground is a poor child.  Seasonal rain comes to sprinkle it.  There are no groundskeepers here.  Parents volunteer to trim the grass at the beginning of each term. Elephant droppings of various stages of healing are all over the effaced track.  Teachers stand under the shade of teak trees along the barbed-wire fence as students run laps. There is no roofed structure on the playground for them to rest. The closest we have as a roofed structure here are two linear illustrations of a four-page blueprint for a ‘pavilion’, which I brought to the attention of the President’s Office without success.

We wrote to the Governor of the Province with this plan in March 2023 but have not received a response yet.

I am now trying what President Anura Kumara Dissanayake recently observed—looking to see if there is someone I know in the Governor’s Office!

What I write next may not be pretty.  My school has two precious latrines for students, embellished with aged squatting pans, one of which has broken edges. The pits are packed to the brim and graciously continue to be receptive to the squatting pan output. The concrete slab inside one latrine is peeling off in a few places.  In the three small schools around my village, only Kahapathwilagama (over 100 years old) and Wellaragama are open for business, but they have the same caste title––the PS.  Unfortunately, the nearby Ihalagama school was abandoned over a decade ago. After the jungle had overtaken its buildings, herds of Mahakanadarawa elephants now take turns using them for night school.

Such is the background I called the President’s Office for help. Although countless provincial education officials have visited these schools, they seem oblivious or helpless to resolve these shortcomings. The officials have not considered upgrading the playground because they have many vital issues and probably funding difficulties. Furthermore, a few principals told me they would not want to bother the provincial hierarchy for fear of being labelled a nuisance.

International schools making education for profit business

Nearly 150 years later, J.P. Obeyesekeres of the world have their wish granted in the form of the International School phenomenon, replicating the memory politics of the Bruce Education Code.

Among my neo-caste quartet, IS competes intensely with rural students whose English and other subject proficiency is generally regarded as below average.  Against this backdrop, in the context of securing well-paying jobs, international school students stand a better chance of representing their caste well.

Past governments have colluded with the Bureau of Investment (BOI) by interpreting secondary education as a business and approved the wholesale International School concept. This action contravenes the provisions of the Assisted Schools and Training Colleges (Supplementary Provisions) Act No. 8 of 1961, which requires that no person other than the Director of Education can establish a school for children between the ages of five and 14.

  IS system is not under the oversight of the Ministry of Education but is allowed to take O/L and A/L exams with regular school students or equivalent tests offered by overseas agencies or schools. Now, they are popping up in towns like Grocery outlets.   The Ministry did not study detrimental consequences and the competition they generated on PS students. Now, I see this idea has morphed into an impediment instead of an investment to equalize the cadence of these two learning environments.

Not all children who study in IS end up in foreign universities. Those who don’t then enter the local job market with English language eloquence plumaged on their caps. The inveterate disposition of employers towards the English articulation of prospective applicants makes it easy to take the first look at the plumaged candidates.  Rural school candidates with a smattering of English-speaking skills get the adieu.

Without increased English-medium education opportunities, employment, or academic opportunities for the village school students decrease in inverse proportion to the distance as the school gets farther and farther from the city.  If authorities do not address this imbalance soon, students without adequate English proficiency, i.e., rural students, will become irrevocably irrelevant.

However, English medium education is an indispensable idea in the present day and age. We need a reliable workforce with good English command to court foreign investors to bring their capital. I am concerned about the government’s inaction to bring this environment to rural schools.  It has failed to recognize that such student preparation is a form of export stimulating an increase of inbound investment in the country.  Let us add village schools’ kids to this export market, too.

After the 1956 Prime Minister S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike’s ‘Sinhala Only’ debacle, it took decades for the English language to become a factor in our children’s education. Then, in the early 21st century, President Chandrika Bandaranayake, S.W.R.D.’s daughter, proposed making English medium instruction in rural schools.  However, that idea withered away sadly, leading us to the present discussion. It is encouraging and applausive that some National Schools offer English medium classes now.

Still, the PSs do not have access to such advancements yet; perhaps the education bigwigs think that those children are 5th-Grade exam failures and are not up to the challenge, or there are not enough English teachers to teach.  Indeed, the latter may be accurate, but a positive sign is that the aptness of the 5th-Grade aptitude test has become the subject of discussion among educators.  I know that 5th-Grade testing should not be considered an inflection point in an ‘Other School’ child’s education.  I failed that exam in 1963.

(To be continued)



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A plural society requires plural governance

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The local government elections that took place last week saw a consolidation of the democratic system in the country.  The government followed the rules of elections to a greater extent than its recent predecessors some of whom continue to be active on the political stage.  Particularly noteworthy was the absence of the large-scale abuse of state resources, both media and financial, which had become normalised under successive governments in the past four decades.  Reports by independent election monitoring organisations made mention of this improvement in the country’s democratic culture.

In a world where democracy is under siege even in long-established democracies, Sri Lanka’s improvement in electoral integrity is cause for optimism. It also offers a reminder that democracy is always a work in progress, ever vulnerable to erosion and needs to be constantly fought for. The strengthening of faith in democracy as a result of these elections is encouraging.  The satisfaction expressed by the political parties that contested the elections is a sign that democracy in Sri Lanka is strong.  Most of them saw some improvement in their positions from which they took reassurance about their respective futures.

The local government elections also confirmed that the NPP and its core comprising the JVP are no longer at the fringes of the polity.  The NPP has established itself as a mainstream party with an all-island presence, and remarkably so to a greater extent than any other political party.  This was seen at the general elections, where the NPP won a majority of seats in 21 of the country’s 22 electoral districts. This was a feat no other political party has ever done. This is also a success that is challenging to replicate. At the present local government elections, the NPP was successful in retaining its all-island presence although not to the same degree.

Consolidating Support

Much attention has been given to the relative decline in the ruling party’s vote share from the 61 percent it secured in December’s general election to 43 percent in the local elections. This slippage has been interpreted by some as a sign of waning popularity. However, such a reading overlooks the broader trajectory of political change. Just three years ago, the NPP and its allied parties polled less than five percent nationally. That they now command over 40 percent of the vote represents a profound transformation in voter preferences and political culture. What is even more significant is the stability of this support base, which now surpasses that of any rival. The votes obtained by the NPP at these elections were double those of its nearest rival.

The electoral outcomes in the north and east, which were largely won by parties representing the Tamil and Muslim communities, is a warning signal that ethnic conflict lurks beneath the surface. The success of the minority parties signals the different needs and aspirations of the ethnic and religious minority electorates, and the need for the government to engage more fully with them.  Apart from the problems of poverty, lack of development, inadequate access to economic resources and antipathy to excessive corruption that people of the north and east share in common with those in other parts of the country, they also have special problems that other sections of the population do not have. These would include problems of military takeover of their lands, missing persons and persons incarcerated for long periods either without trial or convictions under the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act (which permits confessions made to security forces to be made admissible for purposes of conviction) and the long time quest for self-rule in the areas of their predominance

The government’s failure to address these longstanding issues with urgency appears to have caused disaffection in electorate in the north and east. While structural change is necessarily complex and slow, delays can be misinterpreted as disinterest or disregard, especially by minorities already accustomed to marginalisation. The lack of visible progress on issues central to minority communities fosters a sense of exclusion and deepens political divides. Even so, it is worth noting that the NPP’s vote in the north and east was not insignificant. It came despite the NPP not tailoring its message to ethnic grievances. The NPP has presented a vision of national reform grounded in shared values of justice, accountability, development, and equality.

Translating electoral gains into meaningful governance will require more than slogans. The failure to swiftly address matters deemed to be important by the people of those areas appears to have cost the NPP votes amongst the ethnic and religious minorities, but even here it is necessary to keep matters in perspective.  The NPP came first in terms of seats won in two of the seven electoral districts of the north and east.  They came second in five others. The fact that the NPP continued to win significant support indicates that its approach of equity in development and equal rights for all has resonance. This was despite the Tamil and Muslim parties making appeals to the electorate on nationalist or ethnic grounds.

Slow Change

Whether in the north and east or outside it, the government is perceived to be slow in delivering on its promises.  In the context of the promise of system change, it can be appreciated that such a change will be resisted tooth and nail by those with vested interests in the continuation of the old system.  System change will invariably be resisted at multiple levels.  The problem is that the slow pace of change may be seen by ethnic and religious minorities as being due to the disregard of their interests.  However, the system change is coming slow not only in the north and east, but also in the entire country.

At the general election in December last year, the NPP won an unprecedented number of parliamentary seats in both the country as well as in the north and east.  But it has still to make use of its 2/3 majority to make the changes that its super majority permits it to do.  With control of 267 out of 339 local councils, but without outright majorities in most, it must now engage in coalition-building and consensus-seeking if it wishes to govern at the local level. This will be a challenge for a party whose identity has long been built on principled opposition to elite patronage, corruption and abuse of power rather than to governance. General Secretary of the JVP, Tilvin Silva, has signaled a reluctance to form alliances with discredited parties but has expressed openness to working with independent candidates who share the party’s values. This position can and should be extended, especially in the north and east, to include political formations that represent minority communities and have remained outside the tainted mainstream.

In a plural and multi-ethnic society like Sri Lanka, democratic legitimacy and effective governance requires coalition-building. By engaging with locally legitimate minority parties, especially in the north and east, the NPP can engage in principled governance without compromising its core values. This needs to be extended to the local government authorities in the rest of the country as well. As the 19th century English political philosopher John Stuart Mill observed, “The worth of a state in the long run is the worth of the individuals composing it,” and in plural societies, that worth can only be realised through inclusive decision-making.

by Jehan Perera

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Commercialising research in Sri Lanka – not really the healthiest thing for research

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Image credit University of Sydney

In the early 2000s, a colleague, returning to Sri Lanka after a decade in a research-heavy first world university, complained to me that ‘there is no research culture in Sri Lanka’. But what exactly does having a ‘research culture’ mean? Is a lot of funding enough? What else has stopped us from working towards a productive and meaningful research culture? A concerted effort has been made to improve the research culture of state universities, though there are debates about how healthy such practices are (there is not much consideration of the same in private ‘universities’ in Sri Lanka but that is a discussion for another time). So, in the 25 years since my colleague bemoaned our situation, what has been happening?

What is a ‘research culture’?

A good research culture would be one where we – academics and students – have the resources to engage productively in research. This would mean infrastructure, training, wholesome mentoring, and that abstract thing called headspace. In a previous Kuppi column, I explained at length some of the issues we face as researchers in Sri Lankan universities, including outdated administrative regulations, poor financial resources, and such aspects. My perspective is from the social sciences, and might be different to other disciplines. Still, I feel that there are at least a few major problems that we all face.

Number one: Money is important.

Take the example American universities. Harvard University, according to Harvard Magazine, “received $686.5 million in federally sponsored research grants” for the fiscal year of 2024 but suddenly find themselves in a bind because of such funds being held back. Research funds in these universities typically goes towards building and maintenance of research labs and institutions, costs of equipment, material and other resources and stipends for graduate and other research assistants, conferences, etc. Without such an infusion of money towards research, the USA would not have been able to attracts (and keeps) the talent and brains of other countries. Without a large amount of money dedicated for research, Sri Lankan state universities, too, will not have the research culture it yearns for. Given the country’s austere economic situation, in the last several years, research funds have come mainly from self-generated funds and treasury funds. Yet, even when research funds are available (they are usually inadequate), we still have some additional problems.

Number two: Unending spools of red tape

In Sri Lankan universities red tape is endless. An MoU with a foreign research institution takes at least a year. Financial regulations surrounding the award and spending of research grants is frustrating.

Here’s a personal anecdote. In 2018, I applied for a small research grant from my university. Several months later, I was told I had been awarded it. It comes to me in installments of not more than Rs 100,000. To receive this installment, I must submit a voucher and wait a few weeks until it passes through various offices and gains various approvals. For mysterious financial reasons, asking for reimbursements is discouraged. Obviously then, if I were working on a time-sensitive study or if I needed a larger amount of money for equipment or research material, I would not be able to use this grant. MY research assistants, transcribers, etc., must be willing to wait for their payments until I receive this advance. In 2022, when I received a second advance, the red tape was even tighter. I was asked to spend the funds and settle accounts – within three weeks. ‘Should I ask my research assistants to do the work and wait a few weeks or months for payment? Or should I ask them not to do work until I get the advance and then finish it within three weeks so I can settle this advance?’ I asked in frustration.

Colleagues, who regularly use university grants, frustratedly go along with it; others may opt to work with organisations outside the university. At a university meeting, a few years ago, set up specifically to discuss how young researchers could be encouraged to do research, a group of senior researchers ended the meeting with a list of administrative and financial problems that need to be resolved if we want to foster ‘a research culture’. These are still unresolved. Here is where academic unions can intervene, though they seem to be more focused on salaries, permits and school quotas. If research is part of an academic’s role and responsibility, a research-friendly academic environment is not a privilege, but a labour issue and also impinges on academic freedom to generate new knowledge.

Number three: Instrumentalist research – a global epidemic

The quality of research is a growing concern, in Sri Lanka and globally. The competitiveness of the global research environment has produced seriously problematic phenomena, such as siphoning funding to ‘trendy’ topics, the predatory publications, predatory conferences, journal paper mills, publications with fake data, etc. Plagiarism, ghost writing and the unethical use of AI products are additional contemporary problems. In Sri Lanka, too, we can observe researchers publishing very fast – doing short studies, trying to publish quickly by sending articles to predatory journals, sending the same article to multiple journals at the same time, etc. Universities want more conferences rather than better conferences. Many universities in Sri Lanka have mandated that their doctoral candidates must publish journal articles before their thesis submission. As a consequence, novice researchers frequently fall prey to predatory journals. Universities have also encouraged faculties or departments to establish journals, which frequently have sub-par peer review.

Alongside this are short-sighted institutional changes. University Business Liankage cells, for instance, were established as part of the last World Bank loan cycle to universities. They are expected to help ‘commercialise’ research and focuses on research that can produce patents, and things that can be sold. Such narrow vision means that the broad swathe of research that is undertaken in universities are unseen and ignored, especially in the humanities and social sciences. A much larger vision could have undertaken the promotion of research rather than commercialisation of it, which can then extend to other types of research.

This brings us to the issue of what types of research is seen as ‘relevant’ or ‘useful’. This is a question that has significant repercussions. In one sense, research is an elitist endeavour. We assume that the public should trust us that public funds assigned for research will be spent on worth-while projects. Yet, not all research has an outcome that shows its worth or timeliness in the short term. Some research may not be understood other than by specialists. Therefore, funds, or time spent on some research projects, are not valued, and might seem a waste, or a privilege, until and unless a need for that knowledge suddenly arises.

A short example suffices. Since the 1970s, research on the structures of Sinhala and Sri Lankan Tamil languages (sound patterns, sentence structures of the spoken versions, etc.) have been nearly at a standstill. The interest in these topics are less, and expertise in these areas were not prioritised in the last 30 years. After all, it is not an area that can produce lucrative patents or obvious contributions to the nation’s development. But with digital technology and AI upon us, the need for systematic knowledge of these languages is sorely evident – digital technologies must be able to work in local languages to become useful to whole populations. Without a knowledge of the structures and sounds of local languages – especially the spoken varieties – people who cannot use English cannot use those devices and platforms. While providing impetus to research such structures, this need also validates utilitarian research.

This then is the problem with espousing instrumental ideologies of research. World Bank policies encourage a tying up between research and the country’s development goals. However, in a country like ours, where state policies are tied to election manifestos, the result is a set of research outputs that are tied to election cycles. If in 2019, the priority was national security, in 2025, it can be ‘Clean Sri Lanka’. Prioritising research linked to short-sighted visions of national development gains us little in the longer-term. At the same time, applying for competitive research grants internationally, which may have research agendas that are not nationally relevant, is problematic. These are issues of research ethics as well.

Concluding thoughts

In moving towards a ‘good research culture’, Sri Lankan state universities have fallen into the trap of adopting some of the problematic trends that have swept through the first world. Yet, since we are behind the times anyway, it is possible for us to see the damaging consequences of those issues, and to adopt the more fruitful processes. A slower, considerate approach to research priorities would be useful for Sri Lanka at this point. It is also a time for collective action to build a better research environment, looking at new relationships and collaborations, and mentoring in caring ways.

(Dr. Kaushalya Perera teaches at the Department of English, University of Colombo)

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

By Kaushalya Perera

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Melantha …in the spotlight

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Fun mode for Melantha Perera and Allwyn H. Stephen

Melantha Perera, who has been associated with many top bands in the past, due to his versatility as a musician, is now enjoying his solo career, as well … as a singer.

He was invited to perform at the first ever ‘Noon2Moon’ event, held in Dubai, at The Huddle, CityMax Hotel, on Saturday, 3rd May.

It was 15 hours of non-stop music, featuring several artistes, with Melantha (the only Sri Lankan on the show), doing two sets.

According to reports coming my way, ‘Noon2Moon’ turned out to be the party of the year, with guests staying back till well past 3.00 am, although it was a 12.00 noon to 3.00 am event.

Having Arabic food

Melantha says he enjoyed every minute he spent on stage as the crowd, made up mostly of Indians, loved the setup.

“I included a few Sinhala songs as there were some Sri Lankans, as well, in the scene.”

Allwyn H. Stephen, who is based in the UAE, was overjoyed with the success of ‘Noon2Moon’.

Says Allwyn: “The 1st ever Noon2Moon event in Dubai … yes, we delivered as promised. Thank you to the artistes for the fab entertainment, the staff of The Huddle UAE , the sound engineers, our sponsors, my supporters for sharing and supporting and, most importantly, all those who attended and stayed back till way past 3.00 am.”

Melantha:
Dubai and
then Oman

Allwyn, by the way, came into the showbiz scene, in a big way, when he featured artistes, live on social media, in a programme called TNGlive, during the Covid-19 pandemic.

After his performance in Dubai, Melantha went over to Oman and was involved in a workshop – ‘Workshop with Melantha Perera’, organised by Clifford De Silva, CEO of Music Connection.

The Workshop included guitar, keyboard and singing/vocal training, with hands-on guidance from the legendary Melantha Perera, as stated by the sponsors, Music Connection.

Back in Colombo, Melantha will team up with his band Black Jackets for their regular dates at the Hilton, on Fridays and Sundays, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays at Warehouse, Vauxhall Street.

Melantha also mentioned that Bright Light, Sri Lanka’s first musical band formed entirely by visually impaired youngsters, will give their maiden public performance on 7th June at the MJF Centre Auditorium in Katubadda, Moratuwa.

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