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REFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE AND TIMES OF LAKSHMAN KADIRGAMAR

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by Tissa Jayatillake

From the time I was old enough to cultivate an interest in politics, I have familiarized myself with the life and times of those political personalities I took a liking to. The late Dudley Senanayake (who incidentally died in 1973 a day after Lakshman Kadirgamar’s 41st birthday) was the first I took to and I consider it my loss that I did not have the opportunity to get to know him personally.

Of the several politicians that I have subsequently taken note of, there were two I got particularly close to and they were both, coincidentally enough, Oxonians who happened also to be presidents of the Oxford Union in their time. I refer to Lalith Athulathmudali and Lakshman Kadirgarmar. Athulathmudali did not attend a local university prior to going up to Oxford, as did Kadirgamar. The former’s cake, (to borrow a metaphor from Kadirgamar himself) was not baked at home, unlike that of the latter for whom Oxford was only the icing on his superlative, home-produced, academic confection.

Although Lakshman Kadirgamar and I belonged to two different generations, we shared certain commonalities. Though not of Kandy, we both had our early education in that city (he at Trinity, I at Kingswood) and we were both products of the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya. If memory serves, he was a resident of Arunachalam Hall, which was also where I spent my undergraduate years. He was a ‘citizen of the world’, a Sri Lankan and a Tamil. Likewise I, too, prefer to transcend narrow boundaries and take pride in being in that order, a human resident of this planet, a Sri Lankan, and then a Sinhalese.

I liked Kadirgamar’s academic bent of mind. If he and I were given to clichés, I would have called him ‘a voracious reader’. I should, instead, describe him as a man of books. And many were the times when we compared notes on literary texts we both had read and enjoyed. Not infrequently he telephoned me to double check on a quotation from a Shakespearean play that he wished to include in a lecture or a speech he was writing up. He publicly denounced bribery and corruption in public office, a particular aversion of mine, which is not a safe or fashionable public stance for a politician to take and I admired him for his courageous stand.

Furthermore he was unpretentious, charming, mellow-toned and possessed of a fine if often ironic sense of humour. And there was something else he was proud to be– an outstanding sportsman. The last attribute meant, by definition, that he was by instinct and training, fair-minded. Could one possibly ask for more? My one regret is that I did not get to know Lakshman Kadirgamar as intimately earlier than I actually did. I console myself with the thought that quality ever trumps quantity when it comes to most good things of life. As Ranil Wickremesinghe noted in the course of his tribute to Lakshman Kadirgamar in Parliament, a meal with the late minister offered food for the body as well as the mind. On most occasions a mere chat over a drink with him provided such nourishment for the soul.

Apart from our regular meetings to talk of issues of the day, there were two key projects dear to his heart that brought us together and helped cement our friendship. Given the rich heritage we Sri Lankans are heirs to, Lakshman Kadirgamar was of the view that we should give to the world, as he so aptly put it, ‘something more than just tea, tourism and terrorism’. He thus had a long-term plan to enable Sri Lanka to continue to contribute to the world of culture and the arts as also to the further refinement of international relations and diplomacy. It was his desire to have a book published on a Sri Lankan artist that would be ‘an ideal brand label for Sri Lanka, an image which may be projected all over the world as the face of Sri Lanka in all of its many forms’.

The result of his endeavours in this regard is the monumental and exquisite The World of Stanley Kirinde (2005) authored by Sinharajah Tammita-Delgoda. Having initiated the book project, he next set his sights on the production of an academic journal for the study of politics and diplomacy via the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies (BCIS) of which he was now chairman. He invited me to serve as editor and together we put in many hours to get International Relations in a Globalizing World (IRGW) off the ground. Lakshman Kadirgamar’s last public act on the evening of that fateful twelfth of August, 2005, was to preside over the ceremony to mark the release of the inaugural issue of IRGW. It was Kadirgamar’s expectation, through the regular publication of IRGW, to raise the level of Sri Lanka’s contribution to diplomacy. All these best-laid plans and goals were shattered on that dreadful August night in 2005. Unfortunately Lakshman Kadirgamar did not live to see (though he saw the finished product and admiringly flipped through its pages) the release of The World of Stanley Kirinde scheduled for 18 August, 2005.

In this tenth year after his death, it is as good a time as any, to assess dispassionately the late foreign minister’s contribution to Sri Lanka and the world, and to imagine the kind of role he might have played had he lived beyond his 73rd year. I consider Lakshman Kadirgamar to be one of the finest twentieth century Sri Lankans and far and away the best foreign minister Sri Lanka has had to- date. He was widely read and intelligent and, at the same time, hard-working and disciplined. He had the courage of his convictions and the inner strength to hold fast to his ideals from his entry into the fickle world of politics in 1994 until his tragic end in 2005.

I tend to view Lakshman Kadirgamar’s performance on the domestic political front less enthusiastically than that of his on the international stage. It is entirely possible that my lukewarm view has less to do with any inadequacy of Kadirgamar’s and more to do with my aversion to realpolitik, especially to its Sri Lankan variety. As I have asserted in an earlier tribute to him (2005), Lakshman Kadirgamar was the quintessential Sri Lankan. Almost a year before his death, in September 2004, he made a profound statement on Japanese National Television (NHK) that encapsulated his credo:

I am first and foremost a citizen of Sri Lanka. I do not carry labels of race or religion or any other label. I would say quite simply that I have grown up with the philosophy that I am a citizen of the world. I do not subscribe to any particular philosophy; I have no fanaticism; I have no communalism. I believe there should be a united Sri Lanka. I believe that all our peoples can live together, they did live together. I think they must in the future learn to live together after this trauma is over. We have four major religions in the country: Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism and Christianity. All these religions exist very peacefully. They get on very well. I see no reason why the major races in the country, the Tamils and the Sinhalese, cannot again build a relationship of confidence and trust. That is my belief.

It is this fervent belief in the essential goodness of his country and fellow citizens that form the cornerstone of his diplomatic labours. It was also the driving force behind his brilliant and spellbinding performance as our foreign minister. I relished in particular the manner in which he finessed the challenge of LTTE terrorism. To say it was primarily Lakshman Kadirgamar’s powers of persuasion and skillful handling of domestic issues and their international ramifications that redeemed Sri Lanka’s sullied image is surely no exaggeration. Dedicated, experienced and effective Sri Lankan Foreign Service personnel played their part in this restoration process, but the helmsman was clearly Lakshman Kadirgamar.

In their measured tributes to a book published in honour of Lakshman Kadirgamar (Roberts: 2012), three seasoned American diplomats I know intimately, Karl (Rick) Inderfurth, Peter Burleigh and Shaun Donnelly who interacted closely with Kadirgamar have testified to the latter’s major successes on the international stage, during his lifetime and even posthumously. Chris Patten, the British politician, reinforces this fact when he notes in the same publication that:

Lakshman Kadirgamar spent much of his diplomatic energy and his formidable eloquence in attempting to persuade foreign governments to proscribe the LTTE in their own countries and stop the raising of funds for terrorism in Sri Lanka. He scorned the ‘Nelsonian’ attitude to terrorism of some countries. He was particularly active in supporting the drafting of the 1997 UN Convention for the Suppression of Terrorist Bombings. The respect he enjoyed internationally meant that his assassination nudged some foreign governments into taking a tougher line in prohibiting active support for the LTTE in their own countries.

Peter Burleigh in a recent personal communication reiterated this foremost aspect of Kadirgamar’s achievement when he noted:

I personally believe that his efforts to get important governments like Australia, the UK and the US to ban money transfers to the LTTE was a key contribution to the long-term effort to defeat the group. And his personal efforts, and effectiveness, in that regard were essential to that success.

Although I recognize that politics may well be the art of the possible, my limited experience of it as a practitioner and deeper awareness of it as student, make me conclude that politics is a murky and dismal business. I have often wondered why men of the sensitivity of Neelan Thiruchelvam and Lakshman Kadirgamar ever took to politics. In a statement over national television in 1994, Lakshman Kadirgamar spelt out his reasons for doing so. I quote below the operative paragraph of that statement:

I have had a privileged life by birth, by education, by access to opportunities, and I have always felt that a time must come when you must give something back to the society in which you have grown up and from which you have taken so much. So-called educated people must not shirk responsibilities in public life. I have reached that stage in life when, without being heroic about it, I feel I should participate more fully in public life.

Whilst not taking anything away from his invaluable and splendid contribution as foreign minister, I remain convinced that he could have given more back to the society from which, by his own admission, he had taken so much by opting for a different if less glamorous public role than that of a high visibility politician. As with similarly gifted men as S.W.R.D Bandaranaike, N.M Perera, Pieter Keuneman, Felix Dias Bandaranaike and Lalith Athulathmudali before him, I am left with the nagging feeling that his stint in politics somehow diminished Lakshman Kadirgamar in the end. Such diminution as occurred may well have been due to the corrosive nature of politics and not due to any inherent flaw in Kadirgamar’s character.

Perhaps he permitted his colleagues and his party to exploit his standing in society and his professional stature when he decided ‘without being heroic about it. . . [to] participate fully in public life’. Be this as it may, I remain disappointed by the narrow political role he played in the difficult and often acrimonious days of Sri Lanka’s French-style co-habitation government. This was the period between December 2001 and April 2004, when Kadirgamar’s party leader, Chandrika Kumaratunga, despite her party being out of power, was yet the constitutional head of government whilst Ranil Wickremesinghe as prime minister was in effective control of Parliament. Kadirgamar now was assigned the role of advisor to the president on international affairs, with Tyronne Fernando occupying the portfolio of foreign affairs.

On becoming prime minister in February 2002, Ranil Wickremesinghe entered into a Ceasefire Agreement (CFA) with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The CFA was brokered by the Norwegians, who were at the time involved in Sri Lanka’s peace process, and Wickremesinghe presented his cabinet and his president with a fait accompli. Although initially Kadirgamar’s statement in Parliament in 2002 in response to that of the prime minister reflected a refreshing degree of constructive cooperation, a little over a year later in a speech in Parliament on 8 May, 2003, doubtless on the authority of President Kumaratunga and the Parliamentary Group of the People’s Alliance, Kadirgamar attacked the CFA arguing that it was ‘a structurally flawed document’. Clearly Kadirgamar was here being sucked into petty politics as borne out by a subsequent observation of General Satish Nambiar, the well-known Indian strategic expert engaged by the government of Sri Lanka at that time. In a communication in January 2010 dealing with that fraught situation of 2003, Nambiar refers to a one-on-one lengthy meeting he had with Kadirgamar during his last visit to Sri Lanka in 2003. In the course of that meeting Nambiar had told Kadirgamar that he was hurt by the suggestions made by some of Kadirgamar’s party members that he [Nambiar] was manipulating his report. Nambiar comments:

[Kadirgamar’s]disarming response was typical of him: that I should allow for the politics of the situation where the parties will use any means to put the ruling dispensation on the defensive. [Roberts: p. 204]

When one reads Kadirgamar’s 8 May, 2003 speech in hindsight, one clearly recognizes that his arguments against the CFA are not without merit. But the key point that needs emphasis here is that by being a willing party to political manipulation of something as highly sensitive as the CFA, Kadirgamar had begun to slip somewhat from the lofty pedestal of statesmanship he had been on hitherto. In the process, Kadirgamar and his political companions failed to give any credit whatsoever or even the benefit of the doubt to Wickremesinghe.

We now know though that through the CFA the LTTE were led into a corner and to peace negotiations, with some even referring to it as ‘a peace trap’. Wickremesinghe’s CFA, for all of its ‘structural flaws’, was as much a ploy as was the Kumaratunga government’s 1998 decision to use the Norwegians as ‘facilitators’ in the unofficial conversations between the then government and the LTTE. And, yet, Kumaratunga and her paarty were now opposing, seemingly for the sake of opposition, the Norwegians (their ‘facilitators’) and Wickremesinghe, for the signing of the CFA with Kadirgamar lending his forensic debating skills for the cause in Parliament. A similar but less nationally harmful political misjudgement was Kadirgamar’s decision, despite sincere and pragmatic advice against the move from close associates, to contest the incumbent Secretary- General of the Commonwealth in 2003. He was roundly defeated by 40 to 11.

On balance, Kadirgamar’s overall achievement as politician and foreign minister, despite blemishes referred to above, is marvellous. Unlike the average gifted person who tends to rest on his laurels, Kadirgamar was exceedingly hard-working from beginning to end. Like a good lawyer, he always studied his brief well and, like a good sportsman, he was ever thorough in his preparation. It is this careful preparation in combination with his ability and flair that made Kadirgamar who he was. He was consistent and relentless in his opposition to political violence which he saw as a threat ‘to the stability within and between states throughout the world’.

Well before the cataclysmic ‘9/11’, he warned western governments of the dangers of terrorism and called for joint action to deal with the scourge. Among his several notable speeches on the problems of terrorism, perhaps the most influential was that he made at Chatham House, London, on 15 April, 1998 at a meeting held under the auspices of the Royal Institute of International Affairs and the International Foundation of Sri Lankans. ‘[A] terrorist act’,Kadirgamar asserted at Chatham House, ‘is seen as an attack on society as a whole, on democratic institutions, on the democratic way of life. A terrorist attack is an act of war against society’.

In similar vein was his lecture delivered on 13 September, 2010 at The Potomac Institute of Policy Studies in Washington D.C., approximately a year before ‘9/11’. Kadirgamar was thus resolute in his principled opposition to the use of violence as a means of seeking political gain, both at home and abroad. At the same time, he recognized our need to address the underlying causes that lead communities to acts of violence. Hence much as he decried the political violence of the LTTE, he did recognize the need for social and political justice to those marginalized citizens in our midst. In this context, the following remarks he made during an interview he gave to Business Today (Colombo, March 1997, p.20) are most salutary:

[T]he ultimate, permanent, durable solution to this problem will not come from force of arms alone. It will not come from conquest or our vanquishing the LTTE. It has to come by acceptance of the people in their entirety, by the Sinhala and the Tamil people. That is a political settlement. And, a political settlement that is perceived by the communities, by the majority and the minorities, to be fair and just. It must be a settlement that is enshrined in law, and it must be enshrined in the hearts of the people.

Thus Kadirgamar’s opposition to violence was both principled and pragmatic. However, he did not allow his justifiable antipathy to violence to ensnare Sri Lanka’s collective future. Lakshman Kadirgamar was no narrow nationalist. In pursuing a solution to the crisis of nation-building in Sri Lanka, he did not take a partisan stance. He was Sri Lankan to the core.

A tragedy in Lakshman Kadirgamar’s life and career is that neither the zealots among the Sinhalese who mourned his untimely death and cheered him on in life nor their counterparts within the Tamil community who rejoiced in his death and vilified him in life understood or yet understand the man. The Sinhala zealots mistook his opposition to the separatist extremism of the LTTE as a sign of his ‘pro-Sinhalaness’. The moral inadequacy of the zealots amongst the Tamils made it impossible for them to understand Kadirgamar’s heartfelt aversion to ethnic labels. It also led them to their erroneous conclusion that Kadirgamar’s championing of an overarching Sri Lankan identity was an act of political expediency at best and a manifestation of ‘anti-Tamilness’ at worst. The continuing tragedy of Sri Lanka is that there are too many amongst us who think and feel like these zealots referred to above. So long as Sri Lanka holds within it men and women of such a tribal mindset, so long will it remain a blighted country.

It is true that Lakshman Kadirgamar had high political ambitions and that he was keen on becoming prime minister on being approached to don that mantle. He would have, deservedly in my view, been our first Tamil prime minister had plans worked out. In fairness to him, the fact that he did not jockey for the post of prime minister bears repetition. I was then, and am now more so of the view, that the conferment of the prime ministership on Lakshman Kadirgamar, however interim an appointment it might have been, would have been good for Kadirgamar and for Sri Lanka.

I am also confident that had he yet been amongst us after the military defeat of the Tamil Tigers in May 2009, Kadirgamar would have played a cardinal role in recreating a feeling of Sri Lankanness in our society that transcends religion and ethnicity without endangering the multi-faceted personality of our country. His quiet but effective contribution in assisting the government in the restoration of the Jaffna public library is illustrative of the kind of effort he would have put in on behalf of national resuscitation and regeneration.

Lakshman Kadirgamar was ‘a scholar-statesman who was both a realist and idealist’. Despite the deleterious impact of politics on him, his years in our national legislature served to raise the level of political discourse, both at home and abroad, several notches higher. He will be remembered by future generations of Sri Lankans for the values and principles he lived and died for.



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Evolution of Paediatric Medicine in Sri Lanka: Honouring Professor Herbert Aponso on his 100th Birthday.

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Prof. Aponso

Professor Herbert Allan Aponso, born on March 25, 1925, recently celebrated his 100th birthday at his serene home in Kandy. Surrounded by his cherished children, the occasion not only honoured his extraordinary life but also served as a tribute from his academic colleagues, recognising his outstanding contributions to the field of paediatrics in Sri Lanka. Professor Aponso is widely recognised for his exceptional ability to combine extensive field experience with academic teaching and groundbreaking research. He emphasised social causes of disease and maintained that a disease is not just a manifestation of biological factors in the human body, but an expression of social and environmental factors as well. He encouraged his students to consider social aspects, such as family factors and poverty, in order to explain diseases, particularly childhood diseases such as malnutrition.

Born in Lakshapathiya, Moratuwa, Aponso began his academic journey at Prince of Wales College, Moratuwa, excelling in the Senior School Certificate and London Matriculation Examinations. His medical aspirations led him to the University of Colombo in 1943 and subsequently to the Medical College, where he graduated MBBS with honours in 1949. Pursuing further specialisation, he trained in paediatrics at the prestigious Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, the largest and oldest children’s hospital in the UK, earning his DCH (London) in 1956 and MRCP (Edinburgh) in 1957.

Upon his return to Ceylon in 1958, Aponso earned his MD in Medicine and commenced a distinguished academic career. He joined the Faculty of Medicine in Colombo as a Senior Lecturer in 1963 and subsequently took on the role of Lecturer-in-Charge of Paediatrics at the University of Ceylon in Peradeniya in 1964. His career saw steady progression as he was promoted to Associate Professor in 1974 and ultimately attained the position of full Professor of Paediatrics in 1977.

Aponso was a Fellow of both the Royal College of Physicians (Edinburgh) and the Ceylon College of Physicians. He actively contributed to the Kandy Society of Medicine, where he served as President from 1974 to 1975. Beyond medicine, he played key roles in community organisations. Before relocating to Kandy, he was the president of the Moratuwa YMCA and a founding member of the Moratuwa Y’s Men Club. Later, he led the Kandy Y’s Men’s Club, which evolved into the Mahanuwara Y’s Men’s Club.

His contributions extended into promoting nutritional advancements, notably advocating for the consumption of soya. He pioneered the preparation of soya products in the kitchen of the Peradeniya Teaching Hospital and established a Soya Centre linked to the Kandy YMCA. Further showcasing his dedication to public health, he presided over the Sri Lanka Association for Voluntary Surgical Contraception and Family Health during two separate periods: 1977–1979 and 1986–1987. Additionally, he led the Sri Lanka Paediatric Association from 1976–1977.

Even after retiring from the University of Peradeniya in 1993, his impact endured. In recognition of his lifelong contributions, the university awarded him an honorary DSc in 2022. Through his tireless dedication, Professor Aponso profoundly influenced paediatric medicine in Sri Lanka, leaving an enduring legacy in both academic and medical spheres. Paediatrics as a specialised field of medicine in Sri Lanka has evolved over centuries, shaped by indigenous healing traditions, colonial medical advancements, and modern institutional developments. During colonial times under the Portuguese and Dutch, children continued to be treated through traditional medicine. The British colonial administration formalised Western medical education and established hospitals. In 1870, the Ceylon Medical College (now the Faculty of Medicine, University of Colombo) was founded, producing doctors trained in Western medicine. Paediatric care as a distinct discipline began to emerge in the early 20th century, having previously been part of general medicine. The introduction of vaccination programmes, particularly against smallpox, was a major public health advance introduced under the Vaccination Ordinance of 1886. It was during the1920s that Maternal and Child Health Clinics were setup in villages, laying the foundations for addressing child health issues in the country.

The early decades of the century saw the establishment of paediatric units in major hospitals, a critical step towards recognising and addressing the distinct medical needs of children. The establishment of paediatric units in major hospitals in Sri Lanka began in the mid-20th century, with significant developments occurring in the 1950s and 1960s. These units were set up to provide specialised care for children, addressing their unique medical needs. For example, the Lady Ridgeway Hospital for Children in Colombo became a national tertiary care centre, offering advanced paediatric services Hospitals such as the Colombo General Hospital (now the National Hospital of Sri Lanka) and played a pioneering role in creating specialised wards dedicated to paediatric care, laying the foundations for future advancements in the field.

A major turning point in the progress of paediatrics in Sri Lanka came with the appointment of Dr. C. C. de Silva as the first Professor of Paediatrics at the University of Ceylon (now the University of Colombo) in the 1950s. He was instrumental in formalising paediatric education and training, ensuring that future medical professionals were equipped with the knowledge and skills to provide specialised care for children. The introduction of dedicated paediatric courses in medical schools marked a shift from traditional general practice to a more specialised approach to child healthcare. The 1950s also saw the expansion of paediatric services beyond Colombo, with provincial hospitals establishing their own paediatric units, making specialised care accessible to a wider population.

The latter half of the 20th century witnessed remarkable progress in paediatric care, with the establishment of postgraduate training programmes aimed at producing highly qualified paediatricians. These programmes were designed to meet the increasing demand for specialised medical professionals who could address the complex healthcare needs of children. Alongside these educational advancements, there was a significant improvement in neonatal and maternal healthcare services, leading to better survival rates for newborns and reducing infant mortality. Innovations in paediatric research and healthcare policies further contributed to improvements in the overall well-being of children in Sri Lanka.

By the 1980s, paediatrics had firmly established itself as a distinct and essential medical discipline in Sri Lanka. The introduction of specialised paediatric subfields such as neonatology, cardiology, and nephrology allowed for more targeted treatment and improved health outcomes for children with complex medical conditions. The role of paediatricians expanded beyond hospital care, with increased involvement in public health initiatives such as immunisation programmes and nutritional interventions. The collaborative efforts of the government, medical institutions, and healthcare professionals ensured that paediatric care in Sri Lanka continued to progress in parallel with global medical advancements.

The development of paediatric specialization in Sri Lanka during the 20th century was a transformative journey that laid the groundwork for the country’s modern child healthcare system. From its humble beginnings in general hospital wards to the establishment of specialised training programmes and research initiatives, paediatrics evolved into a well-defined and essential medical discipline. This progress not only improved healthcare outcomes for children but also contributed to the overall strengthening of the medical field in Sri Lanka. Today, paediatrics continues to be a vital component of the healthcare system, building upon the foundations set during the 20th century to ensure a healthier future for the nation’s children. Professor Aponso was integral to the shaping of this process of development, in the 1950s and afterwards, fully engaged in every aspect. His involvement was not just academic, as he was an advisor to the government and other organisations, such as the World Health Organization, on matters about advancements in child health.

One of his most significant accomplishments was a six-year research project, generously funded by the World Health Organization (WHO) and the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). This initiative was integral to addressing pressing health challenges within the Mahaweli Accelerated Development Programme in its initial phase. The project focused particularly on improving healthcare services in System ‘C’ of Girandurukotte, a region populated by settlers relocated from villages inundated due to the construction of large tanks and reservoirs. The programme was launched shortly after the settlers arrived, aiming to tackle the myriad health issues they encountered as newcomers to the dry zone settlements.

Under Aponso’s leadership, ‘mothers’ clubs’ were established in hamlets in each of the four settlement units chosen for intervention. These clubs became vital community spaces where families could engage in discussions about the health problems they faced. The challenges were numerous and varied, including skin diseases, issues with drinking water, snake bites, elephant attacks, and accidents sustained while working in newly cleared paddy lands. Malaria and flu posed an especially serious threat at the time, necessitating timely treatment.

The mothers’ clubs operated as dynamic forums where settlers could participate in question-and-answer sessions about their health concerns. These sessions often culminated in providing treatments for those afflicted. The efforts were supported by Dr. (Mrs.) Fernando, a dedicated health officer in ‘System C’ of Girandurukotte, who attended most of the meetings, ensuring professional medical assistance. Professor Aponso was also assisted by lecturers at the Department of Paediatrics and a health education officer, Mrs. Alagoda, whose skills in engaging with mothers played a pivotal role in the success of the discussions and outreach programmes.

During this period, the Centre for Intersectoral Community Health Studies (CICHS) emerged under the visionary leadership of Professor Aponso. As an interdisciplinary scholarly organisation dedicated to advancing health research in Sri Lanka, CICHS made remarkable strides in the field. Among its pioneering initiatives, the sexual-risk prevention programme stood out as a milestone. This programme prioritised fostering individual competencies while shaping cultural norms that encourage healthy sexual decision-making, reflecting the organisation’s commitment to impactful research and community well-being.

As the project manager of the WHO/CIDA project, I had the privilege of working closely with Professor Aponso. I travelled frequently from my office at the Department of Paediatrics at Peradeniya to the villages, coordinating the programme’s activities. We collected household data on a sample within selected settlement units, such as Teldeniyaya, Hombariyawa, Millaththewa and Rambewa. To make a comparison, we also collected data from Mawanella rural villages, which was considered the control area. This information was then meticulously analysed using an IBM computer, a remarkable technological feat at a time when computers were a rarity.

Our research team, comprising approximately ten recent sociology graduates, including KMHB Kulasekera, RM Karunasekara and Nandani de Silva, worked tirelessly to collect, compile and interpret the data. The findings were shared at various conferences in the form of scholarly articles, providing valuable contributions to both national and global conversations on the public health challenges faced by communities in transition.

Professor Aponso’s work not only made a profound impact on the lives of those settlers but also left an indelible mark on the field of social paediatrics, demonstrating the transformative power of community-based health initiatives supported by collaborative research.

Aponso’s contributions to child healthcare, particularly in the areas of neonatology, nutrition, and medical education are important. As a student of Dr. C. C. de Silva, he was deeply influenced by his mentor’s pioneering work in paediatrics and carried forward his legacy by further strengthening child healthcare services in Sri Lanka. Dr. L.O. Abeyratne was the first Professor of Paediatrics at Peradeniya, and, upon his retirement, Professor Aponso succeeded him, continuing to advance paediatric education and healthcare in Sri Lanka. Aponso was particularly known for his work in neonatal care and the prevention of childhood malnutrition. He played a key role in introducing and promoting best practice in newborn care, helping to reduce infant mortality rates in Sri Lanka. His advocacy for improved maternal and child health policies contributed to the expansion of paediatric services beyond Colombo, ensuring that specialized care was accessible to children in rural areas as well.

Beyond clinical practice, Professor Aponso was a dedicated medical educator. He trained and mentored numerous paediatricians, helping to shape the next generation of child healthcare professionals in Sri Lanka. His work in medical research and teaching influenced advancements in paediatric care and was

instrumental in establishing higher standards in paediatric training programmes. In 2011, in commemoration of his work, Dr. Ananda Jayasinghe edited a collection of essays titled ‘In honour of Herbert Allan Aponso, emeritus professor of paediatrics, University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka.’

Professor Aponso is a remarkable individual whose humility is as profound as his ability to listen with intention and honour to the perspectives of those around him. A celebrated expert in his field, he was elected President of the Sri Lanka Paediatric Association in 1976 and ascended to the role of full Professor of Paediatrics in 1977. His dedication extended far beyond academia—he served as President of the Young Men’s Christian Association in Kandy during three pivotal periods: 1966–1968, 1973–1975, and 1984–1988.

In 1952, he embarked on a lifelong partnership with Jayanthi Vimala Dias, now deceased, building not just a family but a legacy of intellect and social impact. Together, they raised three children—Ajith, Heshan, and Charmalie—who each distinguished themselves in society. Their home became a vibrant epicentre of stimulating dialogue and collaborative ideas, welcoming friends to partake in lively, thought-provoking discussions.

For me, the memory of Professor Aponso is forever intertwined with the dynamic days of the Mahaweli research project and CICHS initiatives, where his presence enriched every endeavour. As he continues his retirement journey, I wish him abundant health and days brimming with vitality, joy, and a renewed sense of purpose.

by M. W. Amarasiri de Silva
(Emeritus Professor of Sociology, University of Peradeniya Sri Lanka and Lecturer at the University of California, Santa Cruz, USA).

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Indian colonialism in Sri Lanka

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Following independence from Britain, both India and Sri Lanka emerged as leaders of the Non-Aligned Movement, which sought to advance developing nations’ interests during the Cold War. Indeed, the term “non-alignment” was itself coined by Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru during his 1954 speech in Colombo. The five principles of the Non-Aligned Movement are: “mutual respect for each other’s territorial integrity and sovereignty; mutual non-aggression; mutual non-interference in domestic affairs; equality and mutual benefit; and peaceful co-existence.”

Later, Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi played a key role in supporting Sri Lankan Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s 1971 proposal to declare the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace at the United Nations.

Such progressive ideals are in stark contrast to the current neocolonial negotiations between the two countries.

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s forthcoming visit to Sri Lanka on April 4, 2025, is presented as representing a mutually beneficial partnership that will bring economic development to debt-burdened Sri Lanka. However, the details of the strategic agreements to be signed during Modi’s visit remain undisclosed to the public. This opacity cannot be a good sign and should not be accepted uncritically by the media or the people of either nation.

The Indo-Lanka Agreement of July 29, 1987, was also crafted without consultation with the Sri Lankan people or its parliament. It was signed during a 48-hour curfew when former Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi arrived in Sri Lanka. This agreement led to the imposition of the 13th Amendment to the Sri Lankan Constitution and established the Provincial Council system. The political framework it created continues to challenge Sri Lanka’s territorial integrity and sovereignty. Rather than bringing peace, India’s 1987 intervention resulted in one of the most violent and chaotic periods in the island’s recent history.

Will these agreements being finalised with Prime Minister Modi also lead to a period of pillage and plunder of the island’s resources and worsening conditions for its people, rather than delivering the promised economic benefits? It is crucial that any bilateral agreements include enforceable measures to stop Indian bottom trawlers from illegally fishing in Sri Lankan territorial waters. This decades-long practice has caused severe damage to Sri Lanka’s marine resources and inflicted significant economic losses on its fishing communities.

Facing an increasing Chinese presence in Sri Lanka and the Indian Ocean, India has sought to strengthen its political, economic, strategic and cultural influence over Sri Lanka through various overt and covert means. During Sri Lanka’s 2022 economic crisis, for example, India provided $4 billion in financial assistance through currency swaps, credit lines, and loan deferrals that enabled Sri Lanka to import essential goods from India. While this aid has helped Sri Lanka, it has also served India’s interests by countering China’s influence and protecting Indian business in Sri Lanka.

Prime Minister Modi’s upcoming visit represents the culmination of years of Indian initiatives in Sri Lanka spanning maritime security, aviation, energy, power generation, trade, finance, and cultural exchanges. For example, India’s Unified Payment Interface (UPI) for digital payments was introduced in Sri Lanka in February 2024, and in October 2023 India provided funds to develop a digital national identity card for Sri Lanka raising concerns about India’s access to Sri Lanka’s national biometric identification data. Indian investors have been given preferential access in the privatisation of Sri Lanka’s state-owned enterprises (SOEs) in key sectors like telecommunications, financial services, and energy. Adani Group’s West Terminal project in Colombo Port is explicitly designed to counter China’s control over Sri Lanka’s port infrastructure, including the Colombo International Container Terminal, Hambantota Port, and Port City Colombo.

India and Sri Lanka have recently agreed to resume negotiations on the Economic and Technology Cooperation Agreement (ETCA), which focuses primarily on the service sector and aims to create a unified labour market. However, Sri Lankan professional associations have raised concerns that ETCA could give unemployed and lower-paid Indian workers a competitive advantage over their Sri Lankan counterparts. These concerns must be properly addressed before any agreement is finalised.

On December 16, 2024, India and Sri Lanka signed several Memoranda of Understanding (MOUs) in New Delhi to enhance cooperation in defense, energy, and infrastructure development. These include plans for electricity grid interconnection and a multi-product petroleum pipeline between the two countries. Building on these agreements, construction of the Sampur power plant in Trincomalee is expected to begin during Prime Minister Modi’s April visit.

The Sampur power plant project, combined with India’s takeover of the Trincomalee Oil Tank Farm, represents a significant step toward integrating Sri Lanka into India’s national energy grid. This development effectively brings Trincomalee’s strategic natural harbour – often called the “crown jewel” of Sri Lanka’s assets – under Indian control, transforming it into a regional energy hub. In 1987, during India’s military intervention in Sri Lanka, New Delhi pressured Colombo into signing a secret agreement stipulating that the British-era Trincomalee oil tank farm would be jointly developed with India and could not be used by any other country.

While India promotes its energy interconnection projects as enhancing regional energy security, recent experiences in Nepal demonstrate how electricity grid integration with India has made Nepal dependent on and subordinate to India for its basic energy needs. Similarly, Bangladesh’s electricity agreement with the Adani Group has created an imbalanced situation favouring Adani over Bangladeshi power consumers. What collective actions could Sri Lanka and other small nations take to avoid such unequal “energy colonialism” and protect their national security and sovereignty?

India’s emergence as a superpower and its expansionist policies are gradually transforming neighbouring South Asian and Indian Ocean states into economically and politically subordinate entities. Both Sri Lanka and the Maldives have adopted “India First” foreign policies in recent years, with the Maldives abandoning its “India Out” campaign in October 2024 in exchange for Indian economic assistance.

India’s “Neighbourhood First Policy” has led to deep involvement in the internal affairs of neighbouring countries including Sri Lanka. This involvement often takes the form of manipulating political parties, exploiting ethnic and religious divisions, and engineering political instability and regime changes – tactics reminiscent of colonial practices. It is well documented that India provided training to the LTTE and other terrorist groups opposing the Sri Lankan government during the civil war.

Contemporary Indian expansionism must be viewed within the broader context of the New Cold War and intensifying geopolitical competition between the United States and China. Given its strategic location along the vital east-west shipping routes in the Indian Ocean, Sri Lanka has become a pawn in this great power rivalry. In addition to granting China extensive control over key infrastructure, Sri Lanka has signed the Acquisition and Cross-Servicing Agreement (ACSA) and Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) with the United States, effectively allowing the use of Sri Lanka as a U.S. military logistics hub. It was reported that during a visit to Sri Lanka in February 2023, Victoria Nuland, former Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs of the United States strongly suggested the establishment of a joint US-Indian military base in Trincomalee to counter Chinese activities in the region.

As a member of the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (QUAD) – a strategic alliance against Chinese expansion that includes the United States, Australia and Japan – India participates in extensive QUAD military exercises like the Malabar exercises in the Indian Ocean. However, India’s role in QUAD appears inconsistent with its position as a founding member of BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa), which was established to promote the interests of emerging economies and a multipolar world order. Unfortunately, BRICS appears to be replicating the same patterns of domination and subordination in its relations with smaller nations like Sri Lanka that characterise traditional imperial powers.

India presents itself as the guardian of Buddhism, particularly in its relations with Sri Lanka, to foster a sense of shared cultural heritage. However, it was Sri Lanka – not India – that preserved the Buddha’s teachings as they declined and eventually disappeared from India. Sri Lanka maintained the Buddhist tradition despite seventeen major invasions from India aimed at destroying the island’s Buddhist civilization.

Even today, despite its extensive influence, India has not taken meaningful steps to protect Buddhist temples and archaeological sites in Sri Lanka’s north and east from attacks by Tamil separatist groups. Instead, India appears focused on advancing the concept of Akhand Bharat (Undivided India) and Hindu Rashtra (Hindu Nation), which seeks to incorporate neighboring countries like Sri Lanka into a “Greater India.” The promotion of the bogus Ramayana Trail in Sri Lanka and the accompanying Hinduization pose a serious threat to preserving Sri Lanka’s distinct Buddhist identity and heritage.

Indian neocolonialism in Sri Lanka reflects a global phenomenon where powerful nations and their local collaborators – including political, economic, academic, media and NGO elites – prioritize short-term profits and self-interest over national and collective welfare, leading to environmental destruction and cultural erosion. Breaking free from this exploitative world order requires fundamentally reimagining global economic and social systems to uphold harmony and equality.

In this global transformation, India has a significant role to play. As a nation that endured centuries of Western imperial domination, India’s historical mission should be to continue to lead the struggle for decolonization and non-alignment, rather than serving as a junior partner in superpower rivalries. Under Mahatma Gandhi’s leadership, India championed the worldwide movement for decolonization and independence in the modern era.

Upholding the principles of the Non-Aligned Movement could forge a partnership benefiting both nations while preserving Sri Lanka’s independence and Buddhist identity. Otherwise, the New Cold War will continue to trample local sovereignty, where foreign powers vie to exploit the island’s resources, subjugate local communities and accelerate environmental and cultural destruction.

by Dr. Asoka Bandarage

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Batalanda Skeletons, Victims’ Sorrows and NPP’s Tasks

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Batalanda memories still torture them

Few foresaw skeletons of Batalanda come crashing down in a London television interview. There have been plenty of speculations about the intended purposes and commentaries on the unintended outcomes of Ranil Wickremesinghe’s Al Jazeera interview. The more prurient takes on the interview have been about the public dressing down of the former president by the pugnacious interviewer Mehdi Hasan. Only one person seems convinced that Mr. Wickremesinghe had the better of the exchanges. That person is Ranil Wickremesinghe himself. That is also because he listens only to himself, and he keeps himself surrounded by sidekicks who only listen and serve. But there is more to the outcome of the interview than the ignominy that befell Ranil Wickremesinghe.

Political commentaries have alluded to hidden hands and agendas apparently looking to reset the allegations of war crimes and human rights violations so as to engage the new NPP government in ways that would differentiate it from its predecessors and facilitate a more positive and conclusive government response than there has been so far. Between the ‘end of the war’ in 2009, and the election of President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and the NPP government in 2024, there have been four presidents – Mahinda Rajapaksa, Maithripala Sirisena, Gotabaya Rajapaksa and Ranil Wickremesinghe – and as many governments. Of the four, Ranil Wickremesinghe is the least associated with the final stages of the war and its ending. In fact, he was most associated with a failed, even flawed peace process that ultimately ensured the resumption of the war with vengeance on both sides. RW was also the most receptive to war crimes investigations even proffering that external oversight would not be a violation of Sri Lanka’s Constitution.

One school of thought about the Al Jazeera interview is that those who arranged it were hoping for Ranil Wickremesinghe to reboot the now stalling war crimes project and bring pressure on the NPP government to show renewed commitment to it. From the looks of it, the arrangers gave no thought to Ranil Wickremesinghe’s twin vulnerabilities – on the old Batalanda skeletons and the more recent Easter Sunday bombings. If Easter Sunday was a case of criminal negligence, Batalanda is the site of criminal culpability. In the end, rather than rebooting the Geneva project, the interview resurrected the Batalanda crimes and its memories.

The aftermath commentaries have ranged between warning the NPP government that revisiting Batalanda might implicate the government for the JVP’s acts of violence at that time, on the one hand, and the futility of trying to hold anyone from the then government accountable for the torture atrocities that went on in Batalanda, including Ranil Wickremesinghe. What is missing and overlooked in all this is the cry of the victims of Batalanda and their surviving families who have been carrying the burden of their memories for 37 years, and carrying as well, for the last 25 years, the unfulfilled promises of the Commission that inquired into and reported on Batalanda.

The families impacted by Batalanda gave a moving illustration of the agony they have been going through for all these years in a recent media briefing, in Colombo, organized by the indefatigable human rights activist Brito Fernando. I am going by the extensive feature coverage of the media event and the background to Batalanda written by Kamanthi Wickremesinghe in the Daily Mirror (March 20, 2025). I am also borrowing her graphics for illustration – a photograph of the media briefing and a map of Sri Lanka showing the scattered sites of mass graves – 20 in all.

“We express gratitude to this government for providing the environment to discuss and debate about the contents of this report,” said Brito Fernando, speaking for the families. After addressing Ranil Wickremesinghe’s obfuscations about his involvement, and decrying Chandrika Kumaratunga’s failure to act on the recommendations of the report of the Batalanda Commission of Inquiry she created, Mr. Fernando appealed to the present NPP government to “provide a secure environment where these victims could come out and speak about their experiences,” Nothing more, nothing less, and that is all there is to it.

Whatever anyone else might say, the victims of Batalanda and their survivors have vindicated the NPP government’s decision to formally table the Batalanda Commission Report in parliament. As for their continuing expectations, Brito Fernando went on say, “We have some hopes regarding this government, but they should walk the talk.” Mr. Fernando suggested that the government should co-ordinate with the UNHRC’s Sri Lanka Accountability Project that has become a valuable resource for preserving evidence and documentation involving human rights crimes and violations over many decades. In addition, Mr. Fernando pointed out that the grieving families have not been involved in the ongoing excavations of mass graves, and they are anxious to receive the remains of their dear ones after their identity is confirmed through DNA analyses. Nor has there been any sign of legal action being taken against any of the suspects connected to the mass graves.

The map included here shows twenty identified mass graves spread among six of the country’s nine provinces. There could be more of them. They are a constant reminder of the ravages that the country suffered through over five decades. They are also a permanent source of pain to those whose missing family members became involuntary tenants in one or another mass grave. The families and communities around these mass graves deserve the same opportunity that the impacted families of Batalanda have been given by the current exposure of the Batalanda Commission Report.

The primary purpose of dealing with past atrocities and the mass graves that hold their victims is to give redress to survivors of victims, tend to their long lasting scars and reengage them as free and full members of the community. Excavation and Recovery, DNA Analysis and Community Engagement have become the three pillars of the recuperation process. Sri Lanka is among nearly a hundred countries that are haunted by mass graves. Many of them have far greater numbers of mass graves assembled over even longer periods. Suffering and memories are not quantitative; but unquantifiable and ineluctable emotions. The UN counts three buried victims as a mass grave. Even a single mass grave is one too many.

To do nothing about them is a moral and social copout at every level of society and in the organization of its state. Normalising the presence of mass graves is never an option for those who live around them and have their family members buried in them. Not for them who have built up over centuries, emotional systems of rituals for parting with their beloved ones. And it should not be so for governments that would otherwise go digging anywhere and everywhere in pseudo-archaeological pursuits.

Mass graves are created because of government actions and actions against governments. But governments come and go, and people in governments and political organizations change from time to time. There is a new government in town with a new generation of members in the Sri Lankan parliament, and it is time that this government revisited the country’s past and started providing even some redress to those who have suffered the most. The families of the Batalanda victims have vindicated the NPP government’s action to officially publicise the Batalanda Commission Report. The government must move on in that direction ignoring the carping of critics who selectively remember only the old JVP’s past.

There is more to what the government can do beyond mass graves. The Batalanda Commission Report is one of reportedly 36 such reports and each Commission has provided its fact findings and recommendations. Hardly any of them have been acted upon – not by the governments that appointed them and not by the governments that came after and created their own commissions. The JVP government must seriously consider creating a one last Commission, a Summary Commission, so to speak, to pull together all the findings and recommendations of previous commissions and identify steps and measures that could be integrated into ongoing initiatives and programs of the government.

The cynical alternative is to throw up one’s hands and do nothing, similar to cynically leaving the mass graves alone and doing nothing about them. The more sinister alternative was what Gotabaya Rajapaksa attempted when he appointed a new Commission of Inquiry to “assess the findings and recommendations” of previous commissions. That attempt was roundly condemned as a witch hunt against political opponents set up under the 1978 Commissions of Inquiry Act that was specifically enacted to enable the targeting political opponents under the guise of an inquiry. Repealing that act should be another consideration for the NPP government.

I am just floating the idea of a Summary Commission as a potential framework to bring positive closure to all the war crimes, emblematic crimes and human rights violations that have been plaguing Sri Lanka for the entire first quarter of this century. It is a political idea befitting the promises of a still new government, and one that would also be a positive fit for the government’s much touted Clean Sri Lanka initiative. For sure, it would be moral cleansing along with physical cleansing. A Summary Commission could also provide a productive forum for addressing the pathetic dysfunctions of the whole law and order system. The NPP government inherited a wholly broken down law and order system from its predecessors, but its critics suddenly see a national security crisis and it is all this government’s fault.

More substantively, a Summary Commission could tap into the resources of the UNHRC in collegial and collaborative ways without the hectoring and adversarial baggage of the past. These must be trying times for the UNHRC, as indeed for all UN agencies, given the full flight of Trumpism in America and its global spill over. Sri Lanka is one of a handful of countries where UNHRC professionals might find some headway for their mission. And the NPP government could be a far more reliable partner than any of its predecessors.

by Rajan Philips

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