Features
Peradeniya University in the Seventies

BY Geewananda Gunawardana, Ph.D.
Two recent articles shed much light on the Peradeniya University and the campus life in the fifties and sixties. If those were the glorious years of this fabled institution, the seventies can be considered as the decade it lost its innocence. That sounds ominous but rest assured that we the seventies generation of students did enjoy the campus life in our own way, just as our predecessors did, perhaps without the opulence.
Change is inevitable, but often it is not noticeable, especially when it is gradual. In comparison to the previous two decades, the changes of the seventies were anything but gradual and were out there for everyone to see. The song writers, novelists, and movie makers need not worry, the campus life they romanticized did continue unabated: The mist rolled down the Hantana range, trumpet flowers carpeted the grounds in April, and countless youthful heart strings got tangled as before. While the Mahaweli ran through the lush valley as it did for millennia, some transformative events took place in the backdrop and changed the campus life for many years to come.
I entered the Peradeniya University on October 4, 1969, in time to get a glimpse of the glorious era and witness it slip away under political, economic, and social calamities that burdened the entire country. At that time, there was considerable friction between the education community at large and the then Minister of Education (IMRA Iriyagolle) who was a medical student turned policeman, turned politician. It was generally believed that this minister’s actions were largely responsible for the fall of that government and the Bandaranaike coalition coming into power in 1970.
No doubt that the education circles, particularly the university community were optimistic, and they welcomed the new administration. We witnessed this cordiality when Professor K. N. Jayatilleka passed away just a month after the election: The prime minister casually walked into the senate building to pay last respects accompanied by the then IGP. No fanfare or fuss. I suspect that could have been the last time a political figure was able to walk through the Peradeniya campus without having to deploy a massive security. The goodwill did not last long, however.
When we entered, it was the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya as it has been since 1952. In 1972, when all universities were brought under the umbrella of University of Sri Lanka, it became the Peradeniya Campus. The Vice Chancellor Professor E.O.E. Pereira stepped down, and the position was replaced with a Campus President. The university crest was changed along with the motto to Vidya Dadathi Vinayam from the old Savasya Locanam Sasthrum. This was reversed in 1979 when it became the University of Peradeniya.
The centralization brought in several administrative changes that did not sit well with the campus community as it significantly impacted its autonomy. As I can remember, students had grievance against many changes that were dictated from Colombo, leading to frequent demonstrations and strikes. I doubt if there were any policy makers who had graduated form Peradeniya, or from a Sri Lankan university at that time, and that was the reason for lack of any meaningful dialogue. Furthermore, I doubt if the policymakers had any inclination to send their own children to the system either. No wonder that there was a sense of distrust on both sides and disinterest on part of the government.
The JVP was highly active in the campus at the time. The most visible signs were the meticulously painted slogans appearing overnight on pavements and on walls. The names of the residential halls were replaced with the names of some Russian revolutionary figures. Wijewardena hall became Bandaranaike Hall. In addition to the members only meetings the JVP leader held frequently, he conducted a series of lectures to packed audiences in the open-air theater. Many students attended out of curiosity.
There were rumors of preparations being made for an armed revolution, but I personally did not know anyone who took that seriously, at least until March 16, 1971. That day, we were attending an afternoon lecture when a massive explosion was heard. Running out of the theater, we could see a section of the roof of Mars Hall blown open and smoldering. Apparently, some bomb making materials that were hidden there had gone off. The army and police raided all the residential halls promptly, and a significant number of crude bombs and detonators were discovered. We considered this accident as a blessing in disguise. If not for that, the fate of the campus dwellers could have been very different during the events that followed.
A hike up the Hanthana and going to Sri Pada were two popular activities among the students. On Saturday April 3, 1971, about 15 of us, both men and women, went to Sri Pada. It was an impromptu event: take the evening train to Hatton, ride the CTB bus to Nallathanniya, and make the climb at night. See the sun rise in the morning and get back to campus the next night. It was a fun trip, an opportunity for camaraderie, having a good time, and taking a few pictures for the record if one had a camera. Romance was not ruled out; in fact, one couple got hitched on this trip.
That was my second year, and we did not get to stay in the residence halls at tat time. A friend and I were staying at a house in Getambe where the Mahanama school playground stands today. Arriving late and tired from the hike, we were going to sleep late, but our boarding master woke us up. During early morning on April 5, the JVP had attacked several police stations, a curfew had been declared, and we should leave for home ASAP, he told us.
Perhaps, he considered housing campus students a liability, with good reason. Hurriedly, we grabbed what we could and got to Peradeniya. There, we witnessed to our horror a few students being interrogated (read tortured) by the police. I managed to reach home the next day after spending the curfew night at a relative’s house in Colombo and taking a ride in the back of a lorry. However, many others were stranded as the roads were blocked at many places.
It was only after we returned to the campus months later that we learnt about their harrowing adventures. It had taken some students weeks or months to reach home, some spending time at detention camps or in hiding not knowing if they would get out alive. If we were delayed in getting back from Sri Pada on that night, our fate could have been very different. Our experiences may appear mere inconveniences compared to the events of the following decade, but that was the very first time the post-independence Sri Lanka saw the government unleashing its wrath upon its own youth.
When we returned after a three-month hiatus, it was a transformed campus. All the graffiti were gone, and the residential hall names were restored. Considering the extent of the student involvement in planning the uprising, only a small number of students failed to return. There was some evidence of violence in the campus. The blood stains resembling an injured person crawling into a room were found in a residential hall. There were several burnt patches along the road near the temple, and it was rumored that some bodies were set on fire there.
One major change after the revolt was an increase in controls over student life. Authorities, especially the law enforcement, did not look at the students favorably for a good reason. A night curfew was in place for some time. The police started patrolling the campus without being requested by campus authorities, thereby increasing the tension. Fortunately, the chief of police at Peradeniya who used to frequent the faculty club and had good relations with some of the staff, helped maintain some level of civility.
After the uprising in 1971, all students were given accommodation in campus residences. Hilda Obeysekera hall that had been a women’s residence since 1952, was converted to a men’s residence, and we were the fortunate first male occupants. Thanks to the legendary warden, Mrs. Mathiyaparanam, it had been so well maintained and looked like a three-star hotel. Manicured courtyards, clean and fully functioning bathrooms complete with bathtubs, full length mirrors, and bidets.
There were hilarious incidents reported in using this last item. Not to mention the laundry hampers in each room and the laundry service included in the hall fee. Meals were served at table complete with cutlery; food was excellent and was aplenty; and the waiting staff was there to refill the glass or the cup. It may have worked for women, but obviously, that opulence could not be maintained with young men. The sheer number of free loaders (gajaya) and the male appetite took its toll. To control the situation, a meal ticket system and rationing were introduced. Instead of dishes on the table to serve yourself from, plated food was served; but still a good portion of quality food; and seconds were available if needed.
Sri Lankan economy ran into trouble in 1974. With $ 2 billion in debt, the government could not afford to import enough food for the county’s 13 million people. Everyone had to make drastic changes, and the campus was not spared. With the food crisis that ensured, the meals at residential halls took a big hit. I recall a member of the kitchen staff saying that what we ate was of poorer quality than that of the scraps thrown away in the fifties.
The campus authorities tried their best by substituting rice with other staples, but it was not easy to stomach. To ease the situation, the immaculately maintained lawns were allowed to be cultivated, and many non-academic staff seized the opportunity. Even after the economy recovered somewhat and the food crisis eased, the quality of food in the campus continued to deteriorate and became a bone of contention. At one point, even the humble milk tea was stopped to be replaced with plain tea with a piece of jaggery, or something that resembled jaggery.
The heavy-handed management of the campuses by the Sirima Bandaranaike government caused continuous friction between the administration and students and staff alike. In November 1976, the university workers went on strike demanding some changes, which included the removal of the then Campus President. When the students decided to support the workers, the administration declared the campus closed.
Instead of leaving the campus, the students decided to stage a sit down around the senate building. A heavily armed police force of about 700 was brought in. On the morning of November 11, when the students were changing shifts, the police brutally attacked them with live bullets. Many were injured, girls were abused, and one student was shot dead. The memorial near the Jennings circle marks the spot where Weerasuriya fell mortally wounded. Even though a high-level investigation was conducted, no one was found guilty of murder. After Bandaranaike’s party was decimated at the election in 1977, campus politics took a new turn.
Along with the economic hardships, the campus upkeep also fell behind. The lack of or poor repairs contributed to the deterioration of the facilities. Once the underground power cable to the pumping station broke down and several residential halls went without water for many days. This happened during the middle of a final examination causing tremendous hardship. The addition of new books and journals to the libraries was drastically reduced. The abandoned cultivated plots turned the once elegant landscape into scrublands.
The palm trees that lined the old Galaha road bloomed signaling the end of their lives. Some thought that was an omen for more bad things to come. The only new building project I can think of was the new student center replacing the old canteen housed in the USO building, a leftover from the tea plantation days.
Thus, the seventies saw some of the notable moments of the transformative process of the campus. The luxuries of the fifties and sixties became a legend. There is no doubt that the students of the fifties would have looked upon us with pity. Young people are resilient, and we enjoyed the campus life in the seventies as much as they did in the fifties, in our own way. I am sure the fifties crowd would have never dreamed of this: After reading about a streaking incident during a cricket match in England, a bunch of guys ran naked in front of a girls’ residence hall after sunset.
Somehow, to their horror, the girls recognized them. Seeing this incident, the watcher on duty exclaimed “In the fifties, the gentlemen wore ties when they visited the ladies.” The ensuring stories circulated made our streakers’ lives a misery.
Despite the setbacks, we did our studies, learned the skills to make a living, made lifelong friendships, and some of us found our life partners. The film-soc, Wala, cultural performances, and social functions continued. In fact, it was one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. However, the thought comes if we could have done things differently.
My only regret is that we did not leave it the way the sixties people left it for us. Unfortunately, there were larger forces at work. However, there was one fifties-sixties inheritance that we could and should have done away with as a gift to the future generations: the inhumane, shameful, and utterly purposeless culture of ragging.
(The writer is a pharmaceutical consultant in the US)
Features
A plural society requires plural governance

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

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
Features
Melantha …in the spotlight

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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