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Reflecting on Poson

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By Uditha Devapriya

Unlike Vesak, Poson is specific to Sri Lanka and India. It celebrates the coming of Buddhism to the island through an embassy of five monks, one samanera, and one layman, led by Mahinda Thera, the son of Asoka from his second wife, Vedisa-Devi. The Dipavamsa and the Mahavamsa are the main literary sources from this country that we have for the details of this embassy. All other accounts are variations on them.

According to these chronicles, Tissa, the second son of Mutasiva, was out on a hunt with 40,000 of his courtiers during a water festival, when he caught sight of an elk-stag (or a deer) which he proceeded to give chase to. He then pursued it to the top of Missaka Mountain, or Mihintale as it is known today, where he encountered Mahinda Thera, who preached the Dhamma to him after testing his intelligence.

Buddhism was not unheard of or ignored in Sri Lanka before Mahinda Thera’s arrival. E. W. Adikaram says that even prior to the establishment of links between the Mauryan Empire and the Anuradhapura Kingdom, Buddhist temples existed side-by-side with Jain and Hindu temples, as well as yaksa and tree cults. Pandukabhaya, the founder of the Anuradhapura Kingdom, built a temple for the Yakkha Cittaraja, whom Paranavitana identified as a water spirit, while also fixing a banyan tree near the Western Gate of the kingdom for Vaisravana, along with a Palmyra tee for Vyadha Deva.

Patron deities and Jains, the latter of which included the Nigantas who were to lose patronage under Vattagamini-Abhaya, as well as Paribbajakas and Ajivikas, had cults of their own, which if we are to believe the Dipavamsa survived even the Buddha’s three visits to the island. Significantly, in the first of those visits, the Sakyamuni, in contrast to his calm demeanour, inspired terror among the yaksas and banished them; this reading of the visit could have been due to the priority writers gave to the primacy of Theravada Buddhism in their texts “by seeking authority in the past”, as Sirima Kiribamune has it.

Tissa came to the throne almost 20 years after Asoka Maurya had. Yet the trajectory of the doctrine had much to do with the friendship between the two monarchs. The ascent of Buddhism in Sri Lanka, in fact, followed its decline in India.

Popular historians attribute this decline to the lack of interest shown by Asoka’s successors. Yet as Romila Thapar has contended, Asoka’s successors did not hesitate to sponsor the renovation of temples and dagabas. To be sure, in Buddhism, Asoka found a philosophy which suited the needs of an empire at its zenith; his passing, in that sense, signalled the end to a polity that would find its expression later in Sri Lanka.

The teachings of the Buddha had earlier flourished in the Middle Ganges. Lack of patronage stunted its potential to expand further, and it was overshadowed by the rival orders of the Nigantas, Ajivikas, Aviruddhakas, Tendandikas, and other sects. Two Councils, one convened in the year of the Buddha’s passing in 486 BC at Rajagaha and the other 100 years later at Vaisali, tried to stamp out heterodox tendencies from the Order.

The fact that its founder had refused to name a successor did not help resolve these rifts. In any case, after the death of Kalasoka, under whom the capital was shifted from Rajagaha to Pataliputra, and who was the last Magadhan king to patronise Buddhism, a period of 22 years of rule by no fewer than 10 kings was followed by another 22 years of rule by nine kings of the House of Nanda, of which the last, Dhana-Nanda, was killed by Chandragupta Maurya with the help of Kautilya in 320 BC.

The shift to a new order, and the statecraft of Kautilya, did much to erode State support for Buddhism. In Kautilya and his Arthashastra the Mauryans had their equivalent of Machiavelli and The Prince. In line with their vision, they brought caste to the forefront and sidelined if not ignored Buddhism.

Chandragupta’s war with Seleucus I – which may have ended in defeat for the latter, but which more probably ended in the signing of a treaty of friendship between the two – confirmed the immense, awesome power of the Mauryans over the country and the continent. This is puzzling when you consider that the founder of that immense, awesome empire would be eclipsed by his less ambitious grandson.

Asoka’s achievement was his realisation of a Buddhist State against the backdrop of an empire that had reached its zenith. His conquest of Kalinga or Orissa, which had resisted Mauryan expansionism until then, led to the deaths of 100,000 and the deportation of 150,000 others. Popular accounts pin this as the starting point of Asoka’s conversion to Buddhism. The temporal conquest was followed by the spiritual: by 258 BC, two years after the end of the war, he had turned to the new doctrine.

He intervened in the affairs of the Sasana, as when forest-dwellers were causing a schism, and raised the concept of ahimsa to the level of state policy by banning animal sacrifices and paring down the cooking of meat (though as we know from his own inscriptions, he permitted the cooking of “a little venison and peacock meat”, which evidently were his favourites). He deemed sideshows and ceremonies as useless and unworthy, yet did not object to displays of divine power, so long as they cultivated an interest, among village dwellers, in the Dhamma. In that regard, Asoka was the foremost patron of Buddhism. He also was a pragmatist who had to juggle competing interests.

Missionary activity has a lot to do with the spread of a faith. After the Third Council, it was thus held that missions should be despatched to other regions. Under Moggaliputta, who presided at the Council, these embassies acquired an evangelical character. It was through Asoka’s patronage that they realised this in full.

One of these missions was even sent to the country of the Yonas, the Greeks, while others were sent to the Himalayas and to Suvarnabhumi, or Indonesia. Mahinda, with the theras Ittiya, Uttiya, Samba, and Bhaddasala, and the samanera Sumana, were selected for the mission to Sri Lanka. The Mahavamsa, as well as other narratives, tell us that after they visited the city of Mahinda’s mother, Vedisagiri or Vidisha, a layman called Bhanduka, a nephew of Mahinda, joined them. From there they miraculously floated through the air and alighted at Missaka or Mihintale, where they encounter Tissa.

We have epigraphical evidence for this encounter. In 1935, as many as 22 inscriptions were discovered at a cave in Rajagala or Rassahela in Batticaloa. One of these was a record in ancient Brahmi script dating to around 200 BC, commemorating the arrival of Mahinda’s entourage. The inscription read “Ye ima dipa patamaya idiya agatana Idika-tera-Mahida-teraha tube“, or “This is the stupa of the Elder Idika [Ittiya, one of the monks in the embassy] and the Elder Mahinda, who came to this island by its foremost good fortune.”

Paranavitana contends that the stupa here could have been built after Mahinda’s death. He also interprets the word Idiya to mean, as it does, “prosperity” and “good fortune”, and suggests that by distorting this to “Iddhi”, the Pali word for supernatural power, later chroniclers could have taken it to mean that Mahinda and his embassy came to this island by miraculous means, such as by flight through air.

As Buddhism began its descent in Mauryan India, the patronage of Asoka gave way to a more lukewarm reception from his successors. His son Kunali, born to his third consort Padmavati, was as sainted as Mahinda, yet either was blinded by his fourth consort, Tisyaraksita, or, as Romila Thapar argues, metaphorically blinded himself by turning away from Buddhism. The Shungas, who followed the Mauryans, were even less inclined to supporting or patronising the faith.

At this juncture, Buddhism survived in India thanks to two main factors: the sheer size of the country which allowed for sects to develop and flourish even if they militated against conventional doctrines, and the growing popularity of Buddhism across more rural parts of the realm. To these we can add another crucial development: the spread of Buddhism to other parts of the continent, including Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, China, and Sri Lanka. On Poson, we thus celebrate not just Buddhism’s arrival in Sri Lanka, but also the lifeline it gave to a faith that was slowly losing its resonance in the land of its birth.

Uditha Devapriya is a writer, researcher, and analyst who writes on topics such as history, art and culture, politics, and foreign policy. He is one of the two leads in U & U, an informal art and culture research collective. He can be reached at .



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RuGoesWild: Taking science into the wild — and into the hearts of Sri Lankans

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Visiting Komodo

At a time when misinformation spreads so easily—especially online—there’s a need for scientists to step in and bring accurate, evidence-based knowledge to the public. This is exactly what Dr. Ruchira Somaweera is doing with RuGoesWild, a YouTube channel that brings the world of field biology to Sri Lankan audiences in Sinhala.

“One of my biggest motivations is to inspire the next generation,” says Dr. Somaweera. “I want young Sri Lankans to not only appreciate the amazing biodiversity we have here, but also to learn about how species are studied, protected, and understood in other parts of the world. By showing what’s happening elsewhere—from research in remote caves to marine conservation projects—I hope to broaden horizons and spark curiosity.”

Unlike many travel and wildlife channels that prioritise entertainment, RuGoesWild focuses on real science. “What sets RuGoesWild apart is its focus on wildlife field research, not tourism or sensationalised adventures,” he explains. “While many travel channels showcase nature in other parts of the world, few dig into the science behind it—and almost none do so in Sinhala. That’s the niche I aim to fill.”

Excerpts of the Interview

Q: Was there a specific moment or discovery in the field that deeply impacted you?

“There have been countless unforgettable moments in my 20-year career—catching my first King cobra, discovering deep-diving sea snakes, and many more,” Dr. Somaweera reflects. “But the most special moment was publishing a scientific paper with my 10-year-old son Rehan, making him one of the youngest authors of an international peer-reviewed paper. We discovered a unique interaction between octopi and some fish called ‘nuclear-forager following’. As both a dad and a scientist, that was an incredibly meaningful achievement.”

Saltwater crocodiles in Sundarbans in Bangladesh, the world’s largest mangrove

Q: Field biology often means long hours in challenging environments. What motivates you to keep going?

“Absolutely—field biology can be physically exhausting, mentally draining, and often dangerous,” he admits. “I’ve spent weeks working in some of the most remote parts of Australia where you can only access through a helicopter, and in the humid jungles of Borneo where insects are insane. But despite all that, what keeps me going is a deep sense of wonder and purpose. Some of the most rewarding moments come when you least expect them—a rare animal sighting, a new behavioural observation, or even just watching the sun rise over a pristine habitat.”

Q: How do you balance scientific rigour with making your work engaging and understandable?

“That balance is something I’m constantly navigating,” he says. “As a scientist, I’m trained to be precise and data-driven. But if we want the public to care about science, we have to make it accessible and relatable. I focus on the ‘why’ and ‘wow’—why something matters, and what makes it fascinating. Whether it’s a snake that glides between trees, a turtle that breathes through its backside, or a sea snake that hunts with a grouper, I try to bring out the quirky, mind-blowing parts that spark curiosity.”

Q: What are the biggest misconceptions about reptiles or field biology in Sri Lanka?

“One of the biggest misconceptions is that most reptiles—especially snakes—are dangerous and aggressive,” Dr. Somaweera explains. “In reality, the vast majority of snakes are non-venomous, and even the venomous ones won’t bite unless they feel threatened. Sadly, fear and myth often lead to unnecessary killing. With RuGoesWild, one of my goals is to change these perceptions—to show that reptiles are not monsters, but marvels of evolution.”

Q: What are the most pressing conservation issues in Sri Lanka today?

“Habitat loss is huge,” he emphasizes. “Natural areas are being cleared for housing, farming, and industry, which displaces wildlife. As people and animals get pushed into the same spaces, clashes happen—especially with elephants and monkeys. Pollution, overfishing, and invasive species also contribute to biodiversity loss.”

Manta Rays

Q: What role do local communities play in conservation, and how can scientists better collaborate with them?

“Local communities are absolutely vital,” he stresses. “They’re often the first to notice changes, and they carry traditional knowledge. Conservation only works when people feel involved and benefit from it. We need to move beyond lectures and surveys to real partnerships—sharing findings, involving locals in fieldwork, and even ensuring conservation makes economic sense to them through things like eco-tourism.”

Q: What’s missing in the way biology is taught in Sri Lanka?

“It’s still very exam-focused,” Dr. Somaweera says. “Students are taught to memorize facts rather than explore how the natural world works. We need to shift to real-world engagement. Imagine a student in Anuradhapura learning about ecosystems by observing a tank or a garden lizard, not just reading a diagram.”

Q: How important is it to communicate science in local languages?

“Hugely important,” he says. “Science in Sri Lanka often happens in English, which leaves many people out. But when I speak in Sinhala—whether in schools, villages, or online—the response is amazing. People connect, ask questions, and share their own observations. That’s why RuGoesWild is in Sinhala—it’s about making science belong to everyone.”

‘Crocodile work’ in northern Australia.

Q: What advice would you give to young Sri Lankans interested in field biology?

“Start now!” he urges. “You don’t need a degree to start observing nature. Volunteer, write, connect with mentors. And once you do pursue science professionally, remember that communication matters—get your work out there, build networks, and stay curious. Passion is what will carry you through the challenges.”

Q: Do you think YouTube and social media can shape public perception—or even influence policy?

“Absolutely,” he says. “These platforms give scientists a direct line to the public. When enough people care—about elephants, snakes, forests—that awareness builds momentum. Policymakers listen when the public demands change. Social media isn’t just outreach—it’s advocacy.”

by Ifham Nizam

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Benjy’s vision materalises … into Inner Vision

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Inner Vision: Only keyboardist to be finalised

Bassist Benjy Ranabahu is overjoyed as his version of having his own band (for the second time) is gradually taking shape.

When asked as to how the name Inner Vision cropped up, Benjy said that they were thinking of various names, and suggestions were made.

“Since we have a kind of a vision for music lovers, we decided to go with Inner Vision, and I guarantee that Inner Vision is going to be a band with a difference,” said Benjy.

In fact, he has already got a lineup, comprising musicians with years of experience in the music scene.

Benjy says he has now only to finalise the keyboardist, continue rehearsing, get their Inner Vision act together, and then boom into action.

“Various names have been suggested, where the keyboard section is concerned, and very soon we will pick the right guy to make our vision a reality.”

Inner Vision will line-up as follows…

Anton Fernando

Benjy Ranabahu:
Ready to give music
lovers a new vision

(Lead guitar/vocals): Having performed with several bands in the past, including The Gypsies, he has many years of experience and has also done the needful in Japan, Singapore, Dubai, the Maldives, Zambia, Korea, New Zealand, and the Middle East.

Lelum Ratnayake

(Drums/vocals): The son of the legendary Victor Ratnayake, Lelum has toured Italy, Norway, Japan, Australia, Zambia, Kuwait and Oman as a drummer and percussionist.

Viraj Cooray

(Guitar/vocals): Another musician with years of experience, having performed with several of our leading outfits. He says he is a musician with a boundless passion for creating unforgettable experiences, through music.

Nish Peiris

Nish Peiris: Extremely talented

(Female vocals): She began taking singing, seriously, nearly five years ago, when her mother, having heard her sing occasionally at home and loved her voice, got her involved in classes with Ayesha Sinhawansa. Her mom also made her join the Angel Chorus. “I had no idea I could sing until I joined Angle Chorus, which was the initial step in my career before I followed my passion.” Nish then joined Soul Sounds Academy, guided by Soundarie David. She is currently doing a degree in fashion marketing.

And … with Benjy Ranabahu at the helm, playing bass, Inner Vision is set to light up the entertainment scene – end May-early June, 2025.

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Can Sri Lanka’s premature deindustrialisation be reversed?

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As politicians and economists continue to proclaim that the Sri Lankan economy has achieved ‘stability’ since the 2022 economic crisis, the country’s manufacturing sector seems to have not got the memo.

A few salient points need to be made in this context.

First, Sri Lankan manufacturing output has been experiencing a secular stagnation that predates external shocks, such as the pandemic and the Easter Attacks. According to national accounts data from UNIDO, manufacturing output in dollar terms has basically flatlined since 2012. Without a manufacturing engine at its core, it is no surprise that Sri Lanka has seen some of the lowest rates of economic growth during this period. (See graph)

Second, factory capacity utilisation still remains below pre-pandemic levels. Total capacity utilisation stood at 62% in 2024, compared to 81% in 2019. For wearing apparel, the country’s main manufactured export, capacity utilisation was at a meagre 58% in 2024, compared to 83% in 2019. Given the uncertainty Trump’s tariffs have cast on global trade, combined with the diminished consumer sentiment across the Global North, it is hard to imagine capacity utilisation recovering to pre-pandemic levels in the near future.

Third, new investment in manufacturing has been muted. From 2019 to 2024, only 26% of realised foreign investments in Board of Investment enterprises were in manufacturing. This indicates that foreign capital does not view the country as a desirable location for manufacturing investment. It also reflects a global trend – according to UNCTAD, 81% of new foreign investment projects, between 2020 and 2023, were in services.

Taken together, these features paint an alarming picture of the state of Sri Lankan manufacturing and prospects for longer-term growth.

What makes manufacturing so special?

A critical reader may ask at this point, “So what? Why is manufacturing so special?”

Political economists have long analysed the transformative nature of manufacturing and its unique ability to drive economic growth, generate technical innovation, and provide positive spillovers to other sectors. In the 1960s, Keynesian economist Nicholas Kaldor posited his famous three ‘growth laws, which argued for the ‘special place’ of manufacturing in economic development. More recently, research by UNIDO has found that 64% of growth episodes in the last 50 years were fuelled by the rapid development of the manufacturing sector.

Manufacturing profits provide the basis on which modern services thrive. London and New York could not have emerged as financial centres without the profits generated by industrial firms in Manchester and Detroit, respectively. Complex and high-end services, ranging from banking and insurance to legal advisory to logistics and transport, rely on institutional clients in industrial sectors. Meanwhile, consumer-facing services, such as retail and hospitality, depend on the middle-class wage base that an industrial economy provides.

Similarly, technologies generated in the manufacturing process can have massive impacts on raising the productivity of other sectors, such as agriculture and services. Indeed, in most OECD countries, manufacturing-oriented private firms are the biggest contributors to R&D spending – in the United States, 57% of business enterprise R&D spending is done by manufacturing firms; in China it is 80%.

It has become increasingly clear to both scholars and policymakers that national possession of industrial capacity is needed to retain advantages in higher value-added capabilities, such as design. This is because some of the most critical aspects of innovation are the ‘process innovations’ that are endemic to the production process itself. R&D cannot always be done in the comfort of an isolated lab, and even when it can, there are positive spillovers to having geographic proximity between scientists, skilled workers, and industrialists.

Produce or perish?

Sri Lanka exhibits the telltale signs of ‘premature deindustrialisation’. The term refers to the trend of underdeveloped countries experiencing a decline in manufacturing at levels of income much lower than what was experienced by countries that managed to break into high-income status.

Premature deindustrialisation afflicts a range of middle-income countries, including India, Brazil, and South Africa. It is generally associated with the inability of domestic manufacturing firms to diversify their activities, climb up the value chain, and compete internationally. Major bottlenecks include the lack of patient capital and skilled personnel to technologically upgrade and the difficulties of overcoming the market power of incumbents.

Reversing the trend of premature deindustrialisation requires selective industrial policy. This means direct intervention in the national division of labour in order to divert resources towards strategic sectors with positive spillovers. Good industrial policy requires a carrot-and-stick approach. Strategic manufacturing sectors must be made profitable, but incentives need to be conditional and based on strict performance criteria. Industrial can choose winners, but it has to be willing to let go of losers.

During the era of neoliberal globalisation, the importance of manufacturing was underplayed (or perhaps deliberately hidden). To some extent, knowledge of its importance was lost to policymakers. Karl Marx may have predicted this when, in Volume 2 of Das Kapital, he wrote that “All nations with a capitalist mode of production are, therefore, seized periodically by a feverish attempt to make money without the intervention of the process of production.”

Since the long depression brought about by the 2008 financial crisis, emphasis on manufacturing is making a comeback. This is most evident in the US ruling class’s panic over China’s rapid industrialisation, which has shifted the centre of gravity of the world economy towards Asia and threatened unipolar dominance by the US. In the Sri Lankan context, however, emphasis on manufacturing remains muted, especially among establishment academics and policy advisors who remain fixated on services.

Interestingly, between the Gotabaya Rajapaksa-led SLPP and the Anura Kumara Dissanayake-led NPP, there is continuity in terms of the emphasis on the slogan of a ‘production economy’ (nishpadana arthiakaya in Sinhala). Perhaps more populist than strictly academic, the continued resonance of the slogan reflects a deep-seated societal anxiety about Sri Lanka’s ability to survive as a sovereign entity in a world characterised by rapid technological change and the centralisation of capital.

Nationalist writer Kumaratunga Munidasa once said that “a country that does not innovate will not rise”. Amid the economic crises of the 1970s, former Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike popularised a pithier exhortation: “produce or perish”. Aside from their economic benefits, manufacturing capabilities are the pride of a nation, as they demonstrate skill and scientific knowledge, a command over nature, and the ability to mobilise and coordinate people towards the construction of modern wonders. In short, it is hard to speak of real sovereignty without modern industry.

(Shiran Illanperuma is a researcher at Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research and a co-Editor of Wenhua Zongheng: A Journal of Contemporary Chinese Thought. He is also a co-Convenor of the Asia Progress Forum, which can be contacted at asiaprogressforum@gmail.com).

By Shiran Illanperuma

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