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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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People’s mandate and judicial legitimacy

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BASL public forum held last Saturday

Sri Lanka is witnessing the dismantling of the culture of impunity that dominated public life for decades. This is happening through the courts, police investigations and legal process. It is not an easy task and requires strong leadership as it is generating strong resistance. The ongoing revelations about the nexus between politicians, including those at the highest levels, and criminal networks show that the government’s electoral mandate with regard to corruption and crime is now being translated into action through the legal system. The vote of the people at the last national elections was for a corruption free country and an end to the climate of impunity that had prevailed for decades. They voted for a system change that would replace impunity with accountability under the rule of law. They expected those who had looted the country and brought it to the point of bankruptcy to be held accountable through the due process of law.

The cases that are being investigated by the police, in tandem with the Attorney General’s Department, and adjudicated by the judiciary are based on hard evidence. Much of the evidence that is now receiving publicity had been available several years ago and had even entered the legal process. In the past those cases failed to reach fruition. Investigations lost momentum, prosecutions failed to marshal the available evidence and many cases were dismissed, some on technical grounds. Between 2019 and 2024, a total of 102 cases were withdrawn from the courts by the government authorities. The public knew, or strongly believed, that corruption and serious crimes had taken place. The inability to establish wrongdoing before a court of law and hold those responsible accountable created a climate in which political power appeared to provide protection from legal accountability.

A countrywide study titled Factors Guiding Voter Preference in Elections in Sri Lanka was commissioned by the National Peace Council prior to the 2024 elections under the European Union funded project Active Citizens for Elections and Democracy and conducted by researchers Dr Mahesh Senanayake and Ms Crishni Silva of the University of Colombo. It found overwhelming public support for accountability and good governance. While 93 percent of respondents identified resolving the economic crisis as their foremost electoral concern, an equally striking 83 percent said they prioritised candidates committed to fighting corruption. The mandate given to the government can, therefore, be interpreted to mean to restore integrity to public life and end the long standing culture of impunity.

Different Approach

Today, it can be seen that the police, the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption, the Attorney General’s Department and the judiciary are approaching matters of impunity in respect of corruption and crime in a manner that is markedly different from the past. Several persons who formerly occupied high office have now been subjected to due legal process and, in a number of cases, convicted after judicial scrutiny at different levels of the court system. This is an important difference from earlier years when cases involving politically prominent persons frequently failed to proceed or collapsed before reaching their conclusion. The strength of the present accountability process lies not only in the convictions that have been secured but also in the growing public confidence that no one is above the law. It is in this context that reports of a government proposal to extend by two years the retirement age of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal have generated support from those who wish to see the present accountability process continue and opposition from those who see it as an attempt to influence the judiciary.

Many countries have increased judicial retirement ages in recognition of longer life expectancy and the value of retaining experienced judges. This has not only been limited to the judiciary but also the academia and the public service. However, the controversy in Sri Lanka is due to the context and as the proposal for an extension of the period of service of judges of the superior courts comes at a time when the courts are hearing politically significant corruption and criminal cases. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka has taken the lead in questioning the proposed constitutional amendment. The BASL has stated that it “notes with grave concern” reports that the government is considering increasing the retirement age of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal. It has warned that extending the tenure of sitting judges at this point of time is likely to be viewed by the public as an attempt to interfere with the independence of the judiciary.

The main issue raised by the BASL is therefore one of preserving public confidence in the administration of justice. A discussion organised by the BASL also highlighted that this issue has implications beyond Sri Lanka. Representatives of the Commonwealth Lawyers Association and LAWASIA acknowledged that many countries have increased the retirement age of judges in recognition of greater life expectancy and the value of retaining experienced judges. Their concern was not with increasing the retirement age itself but with changing the tenure of sitting judges while politically significant corruption cases are before the courts. In such circumstances, even well intentioned reform could create a public perception that the judiciary is being influenced to take forward the government’s mandate in a partisan manner.

Maintain Confidence

The challenge before the government is to preserve two equally important objectives. The first is to continue implementing the people’s mandate to hold the corrupt and those responsible for grave crimes accountable before the law. The second is to ensure that nothing is done which could diminish public confidence in the independence and impartiality of the judiciary that is entrusted with carrying out that responsibility. The strength of the present accountability process lies in the confidence it has generated among the public that investigations, prosecutions and judicial decisions are being made according to law as in the convictions that have been secured. Sri Lanka has come a long way from the days when politically sensitive cases rarely reached a successful conclusion. It would be unfortunate if doubts regarding the independence of the judiciary were to overshadow what has otherwise been a significant institutional achievement.

In the face of the concerns expressed by the BASL, opposition political parties and international legal organisations, it would be prudent for the government to widen the discussion on the proposed amendment. If there is a compelling case to increase the retirement age of judges of the superior courts, that case should be placed before the public and parliament and debated openly. Such a constitutional amendment should not rest solely on the government’s parliamentary majority, even if it has the numbers to secure its passage. Simply utilising the numbers that the government on its own to make changes to the constitution will not increase its legitimacy or credibility. Those values will be strengthened if they were preceded by public consultation and supported across party lines in Parliament. Bipartisan political support can be expected from those in the opposition, of whom there are many, who have shown an inclination to practice responsible politics in the national interest.

The people voted not only to change a government but to change a system. They expected those who abused public trust to be held accountable through institutions that commanded public confidence. That expectation is beginning to be fulfilled. It should not be placed at risk by constitutional change that lacks broad public acceptance. If the government believes there is a compelling case to extend the retirement age of the judges of the superior courts, it should first make that case to the people and seek bipartisan support in Parliament with those in the opposition who are also sincere about anti-corruption and good governance. The challenge is to protect the independence of the judiciary while ensuring that no one is above the law. Overcoming this challenge is the surest way to make Sri Lanka’s transition from a culture of impunity to one of accountability a lasting one.

by Jehan Perera

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Intelligence-led governance: the strategic path to a sovereign nation

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In an increasingly volatile and interconnected world, the strength of a nation is no longer determined solely by the size of its military, the abundance of its natural resources, or the growth of its economy.

In an increasingly volatile and interconnected world, the strength of a nation is no longer determined solely by the size of its military, the abundance of its natural resources, or the growth of its economy. The true measure of national strength lies in the resilience of its institutions, the confidence of its people, the effectiveness of its governance, and its ability to anticipate and respond to emerging challenges before they become national crises.

The twenty-first century has introduced a security landscape that is far more complex than ever before. Nations today confront not only conventional military threats but also terrorism, organised crime, cyber-attacks, economic instability, disinformation, climate change, pandemics, energy insecurity, irregular migration, financial crimes, and geopolitical competition. These challenges are interconnected and demand integrated responses rather than isolated solutions.

To navigate this evolving environment successfully, every nation requires a shared strategic vision supported by strong institutions working in harmony. At the centre of this vision should be a modern, professional, and intelligence-led system of governance that enables informed decision-making, protects democratic values, and promotes sustainable national development.

A Shared Strategic Vision

Every successful nation should aspire towards a common national vision:

A Sovereign Nation Happy People Peaceful Society Prosperous Economy A Respected Global Partner

These are not independent aspirations but interconnected national outcomes. Achieving them requires every State institution to work collectively under a common strategic framework rather than as isolated entities pursuing individual objectives.

A sovereign nation is one that possesses not only secure borders but also strong institutions, economic resilience, social cohesion, and the confidence to make independent national decisions. Sovereignty today extends beyond territorial integrity to include economic security, cyber resilience, energy security, food security, environmental sustainability, and protection against external influence.

Good Governance: The Cornerstone

The foundation of every successful nation is good governance.

Transparency, accountability, integrity, professionalism, and efficient public administration create an environment where citizens trust their institutions and investors have confidence in the country’s future. Corruption, political interference, inefficiency, and weak institutions undermine national resilience and weaken sovereignty from within.

Good governance is not merely an administrative principle; it is a national security imperative.

When public institutions function efficiently, public services improve, economic opportunities expand, and social grievances diminish. This reduces vulnerabilities that extremist groups, organised criminals, and foreign actors often exploit.

The Rule of Law and Judicial Independence

An independent judiciary is one of the strongest pillars of democracy.

Justice must be administered impartially and without fear or favour. Citizens must have confidence that the law applies equally to everyone, regardless of social status or political influence.

Judicial independence strengthens public confidence, attracts foreign investment, and reinforces national stability. Investors are more likely to invest in countries where contracts are enforceable, disputes are resolved fairly, and property rights are protected.

Likewise, professional law enforcement agencies play a vital role in safeguarding public order. Intelligence-led policing, supported by modern investigative techniques, community engagement, and technological innovation, enables law enforcement to prevent crime rather than merely react to it.

Human Rights: A Strategic Asset

There is often a misconception that national security and human rights exist in opposition. In reality, they reinforce one another.

Respect for human dignity, equality before the law, freedom of expression, religious freedom, and constitutional rights strengthens national unity and social cohesion. Citizens who trust their institutions are more willing to cooperate with authorities, report suspicious activities, and participate in community safety initiatives.

Communities become the first line of defence against extremism, organised crime, and social unrest when mutual trust exists between citizens and the State.

Human rights should therefore be viewed not as obstacles to security but as essential components of sustainable national security.

Intelligence: The Strategic Nerve Centre

At the heart of modern governance lies an effective national intelligence network.

Traditionally, intelligence was associated primarily with military operations and counter-terrorism. Today, its responsibilities extend much further.

Modern intelligence supports political leadership by providing timely, accurate, objective, and actionable information that enables informed decision-making. It anticipates threats, identifies opportunities, and supports strategic planning across all sectors of government.

An effective intelligence system should be:

*  Predictive rather than reactive.

*  Preventive rather than investigative alone.

*  Integrated rather than fragmented.

*  Technology-driven rather than paper-based.

*  People-centred rather than institution-centred.

Artificial intelligence, big data analytics, cyber intelligence, financial intelligence, geospatial intelligence, satellite imagery, behavioural analysis, digital forensics, and open-source intelligence are transforming the intelligence profession worldwide.

Countries that fail to modernise their intelligence capabilities risk strategic surprise and reduced competitiveness in an increasingly data-driven world.

Intelligence Beyond National Security

Modern intelligence should no longer be confined to counter-terrorism or espionage.

Its role should extend to supporting national development through the protection of critical infrastructure, monitoring economic trends, securing supply chains, safeguarding maritime interests, protecting natural resources, and assessing climate-related risks.

Intelligence should assist policymakers in areas such as:

*  Economic planning

*  Public health preparedness

*  Disaster risk reduction

*  Cybersecurity

*  Energy security

*  Food security

*  Environmental protection

*  Artificial intelligence governance

*  Foreign policy

*  Investment protection

An intelligence-led government anticipates future challenges instead of merely responding after crises emerge.

Whole-of-Government Cooperation

One of the greatest weaknesses in many developing nations is institutional fragmentation.

Government agencies often collect valuable information independently but fail to share it effectively. This creates duplication, delays, and missed opportunities.

A National Intelligence Fusion Centre should integrate information from intelligence services, police, armed forces, immigration, customs, financial intelligence units, cyber security agencies, disaster management authorities, health services, and environmental agencies.

Such integration provides decision-makers with a comprehensive national picture and significantly improves crisis management and strategic planning.

Economic Prosperity Through Security

Economic development depends fundamentally upon stability.

Foreign investors seek countries where governance is predictable, corruption is controlled, contracts are enforceable, infrastructure is secure, and political stability is maintained.

An effective intelligence system quietly protects these conditions by identifying threats to investment, monitoring organised crime, preventing financial fraud, protecting critical infrastructure, and safeguarding strategic industries.

Security and economic development are therefore mutually reinforcing.

Investment creates employment.

Employment reduces poverty.

Reduced poverty strengthens social stability.

Social stability reinforces national security.

International Partnerships

No nation can successfully confront modern threats alone.

Transnational organised crime, cybercrime, narcotics trafficking, terrorism, money laundering, illegal migration, and environmental crimes operate across borders.

Regional and global intelligence cooperation has therefore become indispensable.

Information sharing, joint investigations, coordinated maritime surveillance, and collaborative cyber defence significantly enhance national capabilities while strengthening diplomatic relationships.

Strong intelligence supports effective diplomacy.

Effective diplomacy enhances trade, investment, tourism, education, and technological cooperation.

Ultimately, international confidence contributes directly to national prosperity.

The Relationship Between National Stakeholders

National success depends upon collaboration among all stakeholders.

Government provides leadership and policy direction.

The judiciary safeguards justice.

Law enforcement protects public safety.

The intelligence community provides foresight and early warning.

Civil society strengthens social cohesion.

Educational institutions develop future leaders.

The private sector generates investment and innovation.

International partners facilitate trade, cooperation, and knowledge sharing.

Citizens themselves remain the most important stakeholders.

When these institutions operate with mutual trust, shared objectives, and effective coordination, they create a resilient State capable of responding confidently to both domestic and international challenges.

The Strategic Path Forward

Every nation requires a long-term vision rather than short-term political agendas.

That vision should place national interest above partisan interests and institutional collaboration above bureaucratic competition.

The pathway is straightforward:

Good Governance Independent Judiciary Professional Law Enforcement Protection of Human Rights Effective National Intelligence Network Political Stability Investor Confidence Economic Growth Foreign Direct Investment Peaceful Society Happy People A Sovereign Nation

This strategic chain demonstrates that sovereignty is not achieved through military strength alone. It is the cumulative outcome of good governance, justice, intelligence, economic resilience, and public confidence.

The future belongs to nations that can anticipate change, adapt rapidly, and make informed strategic decisions. Intelligence must therefore evolve from being viewed solely as a security function to becoming a central pillar of national governance and development.

A modern intelligence network should serve as the strategic nervous system of the State—connecting governance with justice, justice with security, security with economic prosperity, and prosperity with international respect.

A sovereign nation is ultimately one where institutions are trusted, citizens are protected, rights are respected, opportunities are created, and decisions are guided by knowledge rather than assumption. When all stakeholders work in harmony under a shared strategic vision, the result is a nation that is secure, prosperous, peaceful, and respected on the global stage.

The challenge before every developing nation is therefore not simply to strengthen its security apparatus but to embrace Intelligence-Led Governance as a national philosophy—one that integrates good governance, rule of law, human rights, innovation, and strategic foresight into a unified framework for sustainable national development. Such a vision will not only safeguard sovereignty but also ensure that future generations inherit a nation defined by stability, prosperity, and enduring peace

By Mahil Dole, SSP (Rtd.)

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The perfect victim: How institutions respond

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Nils Christie

It has been almost two months since the judgement of Abeyasinghe v Tilakaratne and others by the Supreme Court. Since then, I have often been asked a simple question, which I, too, have asked myself. “Has anything actually changed?” My answer is both yes and no. Judgements can uphold the law, direct institutions and clarify principles. But they cannot, by themselves, change cultures.

I shall take the liberty of writing this piece because, in the weeks following the judgment, I have found myself reflecting less on the outcome of the case and more on what it reveals about our institutions. Yet institutions do not change simply because a court has spoken. They change only when they are willing to question long-held assumptions, reflect honestly on their procedures and practices, learn from their shortcomings and act decisively to foster a culture that places accountability at its centre.

The myth of the perfect victim

One such assumption is about the conduct of the Ideal or Perfect victim. The concept of the “ideal victim” was first articulated by the Norwegian criminologist Nils Christie in 1986. Interestingly, Christie was not concerned with identifying those most likely to become victims of crime. Instead, his question was who is most readily recognised and accepted by society as a “real” victim? Society is often more willing to extend sympathy and credibility to victims who fit a particular stereotype. According to Christie, the “ideal victim” is someone perceived to be weak and vulnerable, engaged in a respectable activity, in a place where they have every right to be, harmed by someone clearly viewed as “big” or “bad,” and, importantly, a stranger rather than someone they know. These characteristics continue to influence how victims are perceived today. Although we may not consciously apply such criteria, they often shape our instinctive judgments about who deserves to be believed.

In the context of sexual violence within universities, the assumptions surrounding the ideal victim quickly begin to unravel. Power relationships within universities are often complex, and professional relationships may have existed before the misconduct. The alleged perpetrator may not be a stranger but a lecturer, supervisor, colleague, or fellow student. The complainant may continue interacting with the alleged perpetrator because academic progression or employment leaves little choice. When a victim does not fit the mould of the “perfect victim,” attention shifts away from the conduct of the alleged perpetrator and towards the conduct of the complainant.

What should be kept in mind is that victims respond to trauma differently. Some report immediately; many do not. Some become emotional; others appear composed. Some resign from their workplace, while others continue to work because they have no realistic alternative or because they wish to confront the violence head on. Some preserve every piece of evidence; others delete messages simply because they cannot bear to see them again. Yet these perfectly human responses are often interpreted as reasons to doubt credibility.

Universities provide a particularly complex setting for this phenomenon. Most complainants do not initially seek justice. More often, they simply want the harassment to stop so that they can continue their education or employment in an environment where they feel safe. Sometimes victims make anonymous complaints, not because they wish to avoid accountability, but because anonymity provides the only sense of security they have. During preliminary inquiries/ fact finding processes, confidentiality can often be maintained. However, if the matter proceeds to a formal disciplinary process, complainants are usually required to reveal their identities. It is at this point that many decide not to proceed further, not because the harassment did not occur, but because the personal cost of pursuing justice becomes overwhelming.

Perhaps this should prompt us to ask a different question. Instead of asking why anonymous complaints exist or why complainants don’t come forward (sooner), should we not ask why so many complainants feel unsafe engaging with the institutional process?

The subject of scrutiny

When survivors do come forward, they frequently encounter another familiar phenomenon, victim blaming.

“Why didn’t you complain earlier?”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“If you were sexually harassed, why are you still working there?”

“Why did you continue interacting with him?”

“The reason this happened is because you showed positivity towards him.”

“There is no smoke without fire.”

Although these questions appear different, they have something in common. They all examine the behaviour of the complainant. Very few begin by asking why the alleged perpetrator behaved in the way described. The familiar proverb, “There is no smoke without fire,” is often used to suggest that the complainant must have done something to invite the misconduct. Yet perhaps we have misunderstood where the fire lies. The fire is not the complainant’s behaviour. The fire is the conduct of the alleged perpetrator. The complaint is the smoke that finally becomes visible.

These responses also reveal another contradiction. If a victim complains immediately, some might question their motives. If they delay, the delay becomes the issue. If they resign, they may be described as unstable or unable to cope. If they remain in employment, their continued presence is taken as evidence that the misconduct could not have been serious or that it never had happened. If they show emotion, they risk being dismissed as irrational. If they remain composed, they may be accused of exaggerating. In truth, there is often no version of events in which a complainant can satisfy every expectation placed upon them. If our systems only work for the “perfect victim,” then they were never truly designed for victims at all.

The silence that speaks

The recent judgment also prompted me to reflect on another aspect of institutional culture, silence. Within academia, even discussing judgments concerning one’s own institution may be framed as bringing the institution into disrepute. Such framing places academics in an impossible position. Those who speak are sometimes portrayed as being disloyal or as failing to respect the institution they serve. Yet genuine respect for an institution should not require silence in the face of injustice. Universities are places that encourage academic freedom, critical inquiry, evidence-based reasoning, and intellectual debate. They should, therefore, be places where uncomfortable conversations are not avoided but embraced.

The relative silence surrounding the judgment in academia raises important questions. Does silence reflect satisfaction that justice has been served? Does it reflect concern about damaging the reputation of one’s university? Does it reflect uncertainty about whether difficult institutional conversations are welcome? Or does it reflect a real or perceived fear of professional consequences for speaking openly? These are questions that deserve thoughtful reflection.

Post judgement reflections

At the same time, my experience in the weeks following the judgment has also been one of hope. Individuals who have experienced different forms of abuse have quietly come forward to share their own stories with me. Some have sought legal advice. Others have simply wanted someone to listen. Their experiences remind me that judgments do more than resolve disputes between parties. They send messages to those who have remained silent, that seeking justice remains possible. Perhaps that is one answer to the question I posed at the beginning of this article. Has anything actually changed? For some victims, I believe the answer is yes. A judgement can restore hope and encourage those who had previously felt that their voices would never be heard.

Yet judgments alone cannot erase trauma, restore lost years, or undo the personal and professional consequences that many victims endure. Courts can interpret the law, but they cannot, by themselves, transform institutional culture. Culture changes only when institutions and university communities are willing to learn from judgments rather than merely comply with them. It changes when realities of power imbalances are recognised, when credibility is assessed through evidence rather than stereotypes, and when the question “Why did the victim not come forward sooner?” is replaced with “What conditions made it so difficult for the victim to come forward?” Ultimately, the true value of a judgement lies not only in the orders it makes, but also in the conversations it inspires and the institutional self-reflection it demands. Whether anything truly changes will not depend on the judgement itself, but on whether institutions have the courage to learn from them.

(Udari Abeyasinghe is attached to the Faculty of Dental Sciences at the University of Peradeniya)

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

by Udari Abeyasinghe

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