Features
New political direction and its impact on Economy
(Excerpted from the Merril J. Fernando autobiography)
No memoir straddling the period of the 1950s would be complete without a reference to the changes in our society, arising from the overthrow of the United National Party (UNP) Government in 1956, in power for two consecutive terms since Independence. The political, social, and cultural changes set in motion by the election victory of the coalition forces led by S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike, comprising the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna (MEP), permanently re-configured the political and the socio-economic landscape of the country.
That victory also ended the single party dominance which the UNP had enjoyed, for eight years of parliamentary rule since Independence, paving the way for the many subsequent instances of a major party assuming power, in combination with one or more smaller parties. The implementation of S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike’s pre-election assurances of language reforms and the nationalisation of large private enterprises, the latter comprising largely of British vested interests, soon brought about a new political and economic order, based on left-of-centre dogma conflated with strong anti-imperialist sentiment.
It resulted in the nationalisation of many successful businesses such as banks, insurance companies, and public transport. I recall that the many strikes that took place during this period, never before experienced in the country, had a crippling impact on imports and exports. The port workers strike of 1959 hit all industrialists equally.
Old-timers in the industry will no doubt recall the part played in easing tea exports by the Trincomalee Tea Administration (TTA), established in 1957/’58, specifically as a counter to the disruptions to tea exports by frequent work stoppages at the Colombo Port. I think that period also marked the beginning of State capitulation to trade union pressure, for increases in wages and salaries as well as the enrichment of other conditions, without corresponding returns through improvements in output.
The SWRD regime, meek in the face of worker agitation, very unwisely established the precedent for the State subsidization of unproductivity, emulated as and when dictated by political expediency by every government which followed. Unlike the MEP regime of SWRD, the preceding UNP governments, whilst consolidating post-independence parliamentary democracy, also exerted stronger control over both the economy and the administration, as well as on civil society.
However, despite the administrative and fiscal stability that the UNP governments ushered in after Independence, there was a strong groundswell of nationalist sentiment against the second UNP regime under Sir John Kotelawala, and that momentum was reflected in the comprehensive defeat of the UNP in 1956. My clear recollection is that whilst the ‘Five Great Forces’ – Sangha, Veda, Guru, Govi, and Kamkaru – arraigned behind SWRD, were expected to offer a serious challenge to the ruling party, very few would have envisaged the complete rout of the UNP that was the election result.
Whilst the foreign policy of the MEP regime was ostensibly neutralist, there was a visible leaning to the left, with the establishment of the first formal diplomatic relations with both the USSR and China, soon after SWRD assumed the premiership. The contrast with the foreign policies of the previous UNP governments was sharply outlined, on account of the latter’s clear alignment with British interests in the South East Asian region in particular. Unarguably, the opening of government to government relations with the Soviet Union and China, eventually resulted in long-term benefits, especially for the tea trade in the case of Russia.
In fairness to SWRD, it may be said that he turned the country away from heavy dependence on Western or pro-Western power blocs and steered it along a more non-aligned direction, expressed more clearly in the foreign policy implementation of the later regime of his widow, Sirimavo Bandaranaike.
SWRD and the plantation economy
With regard to the plantation sector, which reflected British dominance more aggressively than any other segment of industry, there had been vigorous left wing agitation for some time for its nationalization. However, during his relatively short period in office, there was no indication that SWRD was prepared to immediately enforce such a move although, on account of the political thinking of the SWRD regime, influenced by its Marxist coalition partners, that apprehension was ever present.
For the time being though, the plantations and allied commercial interests, which were then the largest foreign exchange earners for the country, remained mainly in the hands of the British and a few local entrepreneurs. However, the increase on tax on business profit from 25% to 30% and the enhanced export duties placed additional burdens on an industrial sector already under severe internal pressure on account of intermittent strikes and other interruptions to production. In my view, the most glaring weaknesses of the SWRD administration were its tolerance of industrial indiscipline and the management of the economy.
Notwithstanding his clearly opportunistic conciliation of nationalist sentiment, which propelled him to victory, S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike was still pragmatic enough to realize that a sudden disruption of the plantation economy and the closely-interconnected ancillary interests, then the primary source of Ceylon’s foreign exchange earnings, would have completely destabilized the country’s economy.
However, at the Planters’ Association AGM of 1957 chaired by Senator Thomas Amarasuriya (the first Ceylonese to be elected Chairman of the PA), to which Prime Minister Bandaranaike was an invitee, the latter had, in his speech, indicated clearly to the plantation representatives that nationalization of plantations was a key component of his Government’s strategy, though that would be the last measure in the Government’s nationalization programme.
Having said that, SWRD had also given the assurance that adequate notice would be given to the interests likely to be affected. The establishment, in 1958, of the State Plantations Corporation, was also an early warning of the thinking of the regime that plantation ownership and management would no longer be a private, colonial preserve.
In the meantime, the restrictions imposed on expatriates working in the country forced many of them to leave. Among them were experienced planters and tea tasters, many of whom relocated to African tea-growing countries, both in the South and the East of that continent, and helped to develop the industry in those locations with expertise acquired in Ceylon. Others took up employment in the plantation industry in South East Asian countries. Those countries which benefited from the tea experience of our country are our strongest competitors today.
Quite apart from all the above factors, the fear of nationalization itself had a negative impact on the development of plantations, especially those owned by British companies. The older generation of plantation managers and others associated closely with the industry will recall that those estates, owned mostly by ‘Sterling Companies’ as they were known, comprised the cream of our plantations.
Land reforms and conseqences
The biggest impact of the new political direction was finally felt when it paved the way for the Land Reform Policy enactment of 1972, implemented during the tenure of SWRD’s widow, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, as Prime Minister. In its initial stage it vested over half a million acres, about two-thirds of that extent in tea, rubber, and coconut, with the Land Reform Commission (LRC).
Whilst some of the land thus acquired belonged to British plantation companies, the major proportion was locally owned. Although one of the stated objectives of this exercise was the redistribution of land amongst the landless, only a fraction of the acquired land eventually found its way in to the hands of the Sinhala peasantry.
The actual physical transfer of ownership took place in 1975/’76, with acquired plantation land being divided between the Sri Lanka State Plantations Corporation (SLSPC) and the Janatha Estates Development Board (JEDB). The newly-formed Up-Country Cooperative Estates Development Board (Usawasama) also received land for management and re-distribution. So did various village cooperative societies and councils.
Though the latter two categories had minimal competence in large-scale plantation cultivation and land and crop management, the leading politicians of the day, with bland confidence, made public statements that such acquired land would be intensely cultivated and productivity increased. Another noble proposition was the cultivation of food crops.
There is no quantifiable evidence of the results of such initiatives, if indeed they ever did take place. In reality, the damage to the well-regulated plantation industry, caused by the deeply-flawed implementation of a broad initiative, configured ostensibly for national benefit, was irreparable. In my view, despite the re-privatization of plantations in 1992, it is unlikely that the industry will ever fully recover from the detrimental changes resulting from such politically-motivated restructuring.
A time-tested management structure built on the experience of over a century, with its accumulated wisdom and knowledge, was replaced by a politically-oriented State administration, hastily cobbled together, literally overnight. The equally-hurried and insensitive implementation of the `Sinhala Only’ policy and other related reforms introduced in 1956, marginalizing minority communities, led to sporadic ethnic conflicts, commencing with the 1958 Sinhala-Tamil confrontation, igniting a long-simmering inter-community discontent and culminating in a 26-year civil war.
The latter, for its duration, hamstrung all development activities, public and private. Despite the conclusion of the conflict over a decade ago, the country yet remains divided along ethnic and religious lines and mired in internal disaffection and controversy, affecting every aspect of national progress.
The actual events briefly alluded to above have been written about, discussed, and analyzed exhaustively in the decades since. Their long term adverse consequences are also now visible, as clear evidence of the imprudence of the thinking which set those processes in motion. Therefore, I do not think it necessary for me to debate those issues in any greater depth in this narrative, except to say that the truth of the old adage, ‘the road to ruin is paved with good intentions,’ has been proven time and time again.
During the SWRD period, I developed a close friendship with the late Sarath Wijesinghe, a very successful proprietary planter, businessman, and reputed politician. He was Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister of Finance in the SWRD Cabinet whilst also being a member of the Senate. He subsequently served as the Minister of Nationalised Services, Minister of Labour, and the President of the Senate.
Despite his wide-ranging successes and wealth, and the high-profile positions he held in both Government and the private sector, he was a simple and approachable man. He was also Strikes Commissioner, appointed by Prime Minister SWRD, during a period of wide-spread union agitation in the country. Later I became involved with him in neutralizing union action launched by a very strong trade union controlling the export trade.
Three export companies were blockaded by striking workers. We were able to bring in workers from outstations, who were assembled at Independence Square by dawn and then transported to the three companies. Though there were violent responses from the striking workers, nobody was injured and the strikes were settled by the morning of the third day.
Overall, the SWRD period of governance was signposted by frequent strikes and civil commotions, which had a crippling impact on industry, especially the tea sector. With its almost total reliance on the export of bulk, ease of transport and shipping were a vital necessity and they were the dimensions affected most by the intermittent disruptions.
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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