Features

REFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE AND TIMES OF LAKSHMAN KADIRGAMAR

Published

3 years ago

2023/08/13

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 41^st 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 73^rd 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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Features

The significance of “Control” in foreign relations

Published

1 day ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

US Assistant Secretary of State South and Central Asian Affairs, Paul Kapur, Deputy Defence Minister Aruna Jayaskera, and Navy Commande Vice Admiral Kanchana Banagoda and others aboard SLNS Gajabahu.

Foreign Relations are all about “Control” particularly in the context of Relations between Major Powers such as the USA, China and India and small sovereign States such as Sri Lanka. While in the case of such relations, benefits to both parties are inevitable, the need to do so is invariably driven by the national interests of the Major Powers because their interests far outweigh those of small States. This mismatch of interests is what calls for “Control” of relations by Major Powers

The advice to Sri Lanka by Foreign Relations experts thus far has been to balance challenges arising from such Relations, not realising that the compulsions driven by the interests of Major Powers are such that balancing by itself does not have the needed capabilities to overcome the consequences arising from Major Power Rivalries; a fact evidenced by the recent Middle East war.

For instance, the need for the USA to strengthen the capabilities of the Sri Lankan Navy is driven by the strategic location of Sri Lanka since it is the gateway to the Indo-Pacific. Notwithstanding such motivations, it cannot be denied that the infrastructure provided to Sri Lanka’s Navy was handy to meet internal challenges as it was during the final stages of the Armed Conflict to destroy arsenals of the LTTE out at sea and the capacity to meet both external and internal threats to and within Sri Lanka.

Similarly, one of China’s primary interests is its Belt and Road Initiative. Towards this end, China has established a solid foot print in Sri Lanka by building and owning solid infrastructure projects for 99 years and more, if it is in China’s interest. However, although benefits from such projects cannot be denied, the open question is whether their scale was established to suit China’s interests or sought by Sri Lanka to suit Sri Lanka’s interests. For instance, the offer to build a 200,000 barrels a day Refinery by Sinopec of China has more to do with serving China’s interests, in view of the decision by the Sri Lankan Government to expand the Refinery at Sapugaskanda to 100,000 barrels a day.

In the case of India, the issues are more complex arising from Sri Lanka’s proximity to India, the cultural and historical heritage shared by both and the presence of the Tamil community in both countries. Consequently, India is extremely conscious of the need to keep a sharp eye and “Control” developments taking place in Sri Lanka in respect of Sri Lanka’s relations with Major Powers. This concern is driven by the notion that the territorial security of India is dependent on Sri Lanka’s Relations with Major Powers; a concern that arises from India’s past territorial history where the territory of India was transformed from a motley group of Princely States into one unified sub-continent and then partitioned into two Nation States under the British Raj. Consequently, the present territory of India has been in existence only since its independence from Colonial Rule in 1947. Hence, the fear of history repeating itself is driven by internal compulsions and by external interventions.

US – SRI LANKA RELATIONS

Against the background of Geopolitical interests presented above, Sri Lanka adopted the Policy of Neutrality in 2019 and this Government continues to exercise and live by its Internationally recognised principles, as it did when Sri Lanka denied landing rights to US Aircraft during the Middle East conflict. Sri Lanka’s Foreign Minister stated that Sri Lanka was “always neutral” when he met the US Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs to convey Sri Lanka’s appreciation for the assistance rendered to procure fuel during the Middle East crisis and for the maritime vessels and aircraft gifted to Sri Lanka (Daily News, June 23, 2026).

In the meantime, The Island has reported that the “US declares SLN its Indo-Pacific Partner” (June 25, 2026). A statement issued by the US Embassy in Colombo quotes the Assistant Secretary of State as having stated: “Today, we announced the delivery of US satellite communication technology to the Sri Lankan Navy, our Indo-Pacific partner: This secure, real-time connection—representing a transformational upgrade for the Sri Lankan Navy-– will be available aboard their entire fleet of offshore patrol vessels…” (Ibid).

There is no doubt whatsoever that these assets would collectively boost the capabilities of the SL Navy to “strengthen maritime domain awareness, improve operational coordination, support emergency response, help interdict vessels engaged in illicit trafficking etc.” (Ibid). However, the unilateral declaration by US that the SL Navy is a “Indo-Pacific Partner” of the US has NO validity unless such a declaration has the approval of the SL Government. Furthermore, such an approval by the SL Government would compromise its Policy of Neutrality to which the country has pledged.

Therefore, the declaration should be accompanied with a caveat, that being, that the partnership should NOT extend to the entirety of the Indo-Pacific but be limited to Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEC). It is only then that the SL Government is Internationally entitled to exercise its rights as a Neutral State, namely, to protect its territory under the UN Law of the Sea. Furthermore, considering the extent of Sri Lanka’s EEC in relation to the extent of the Indian Ocean, the Partnership would be proportionate.

CHINA – SRI LANKA RELATIONS

China’s interest is to consolidate its interests in its Belt and Road Initiative. Towards this end it has attempted to exercise “Control” over Sri Lanka by offering infrastructure projects of a scale that benefits China rather than Sri Lanka as evidenced by the example of the offer by Sinopec Refinery cited above. This example demonstrate that Sri Lanka should be faulted for accepting projects offered without question and when questioned, based on local evaluations of scale to meet Sri Lankan needs as in the case of the existing Refinery at Sapugaskanda, the scale of projects become significantly less. The lesson to be learnt from this experience is that no project offered should be accepted without question in respect of its suitability to Sri Lanka in all respects, if Sri Lanka is not to become a victim of self-inflicted debt traps.

INDIA –SRI LANKA RELATIONS

How India “Controls” Sri Lanka is by making Sri Lanka politically and economically vulnerable and dependent on India, not only through physical connectivity, but also by being a handmaiden in internal political arrangements where power is devolved to Provinces that are a threat to Sri Lanka’s territorial integrity (13^th Amendment) and also by focusing development that benefit the Tamil community in Sri Lanka. The end result is to keep relations between communities in Sri Lanka on the “boil”, much against the interests of Sri Lanka to function as a united Nation State.

The proposal to connect Sri Lanka with India with under-water pipelines to transfer petroleum products from the Middle East and Power Grids would make Sri Lanka vulnerable and dependent on India as Germany was with Natural Gas from Russia when Nord-Stream I and II were sabotaged. Similarly, the road access through a Land Bridge connecting India and Sri Lanka would legalize access between the two countries that today takes place illegally because of the disparity in wages and livelihoods.

Despite such possible outcomes, there is a concerted effort by individuals and a body of NGOs who are of the opinion that it is in the best interests of Sri Lanka for Sri Lanka to hitch its wagons to the rising star of India. Others are grateful to India as the first responder to Sri Lanka at times of need, mindless of the weekly destruction of Sri Lanka’s marine resources etc. caused by thousands of fishing boats from India resorting to illegal fishing practices whose value over the years are beyond assessment.

CONCLUSIION

The reason for the recent conflict in the Middle East is all about “Control” of Nation States by Major Powers in pursuit of their Geopolitical interests. The need to “Control” Sri Lanka by the US is because of Sri Lanka’s location to the Indo-Pacific and by China because Sri Lanka is a vital link to its Belt and Road Initiative. On the other hand, Relations with India are influenced and guided by India’s obsession with the sustainability of its territorial integrity because that is what makes India a Major Power. The survival of Sri Lanka in such a complex background depends on how astutely Sri Lanka protects its Policy of Neutrality.

By Neville Ladduwahetty

Features

“Sir”: A prefix or a suffix in Sri Lanka?

Published

1 day ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

A file picture of King Charles making Sir Stephen Hough a Knight Bachelor at Windsor Castle.

The word “Sir” is classically and linguistically associated with Great Britain and His Majesty’s English Language. As an esteemed prefix, it generally refers to a Knight, but very strictly speaking, that is perhaps a rather narrow and restricted synonym. While a Knight of the British Empire is the most common type of knight people encounter today, Great Britain actually has several different orders of knighthood, as well as an ancient rank that does not belong to any such order at all.

When someone is dubbed a knight in Britain and referred to as “Sir” X, Y or Z, they generally fall into one of three categories. The first is a Knight Bachelor, undoubtedly the oldest rank. This is the most common form of knighthood awarded for public service, arts, or science. In that context, one should think of Sir Elton John, Sir Paul McCartney, or Sir Ian McKellen. It is not a part of an explicit “Order”, like that of the British Empire. It is the oldest mechanical form of knighthood, dating back to the 13th century under King Henry III. The recipients are simply styled as Sir, followed by the first name, such as Sir Ian, without any post-nominal letters like KBE or OBE attached to the end of their name.

The second is a Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (KBE). This is a specific group, established relatively recently in 1917 by King George V, to fill a gap for rewarding civilian and military effort during World War I. To qualify to be called “Sir” within this specific order, a man must be appointed as a Knight Commander (KBE) or a Knight Grand Cross (GBE).

The third is a group of Chivalric Orders, the so-called Elite and Ancient Orders. Several highly exclusive, ancient orders of knighthood sit much higher in precedence than the Order of the British Empire. These include the Most Noble Order of the Garter, the pinnacle of British honours founded in 1348, and scrupulously limited to the Monarch, the Prince of Wales, and only 24 other companion members. Then there is the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, the highest chivalric honour in Scotland. The last of this group is the Most Honourable Order of the Bath; typically awarded to high-ranking military officers and senior civil servants.

The Summary Rule of this entire scenario is that every Knight of the British Empire (KBE) is a British Knight, but not every British Knight is a Knight of the British Empire. If you see a modern British knight who does not have military or diplomatic ties, odds are high that they are actually a Knight Bachelor.

With reference to the title of this presentation, now for the flip side of this, as we see things in our region of the globe. In Great Britain, it is the standard form of address to refer to a Knight as Sir John, Sir Ian etc. However, in Sri Lanka, as well as in the Indian sub-continent, very often people use the word “Sir” as a suffix or a postfix to honour someone and frequently use “X Sir”; the name followed by the word “Sir” as a suffix or postfix.

It is a fascinating linguistic oddity, and Sri Lanka is definitely not alone in this, and most definitely, we are second to none in that outlook. While using “Sir” as a suffix or postfix (e. g., De Silva Sir, Nihal Sir) completely cartwheels over the standard British etiquette, where “Sir” must strictly prefix a first name. This charming practice of using it as a suffix is actually widespread across South Asia and parts of Southeast Asia. It is a classic example of dialectal crossbreeding, where local grammatical structures and cultural norms go to the extent of rewriting even the rules of the standard English as a language.

In a very broad sense, this phenomenon is very definitely seen in the Indian Subcontinent (E.g. Sri Lanka, India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan and Pakistan). This is arguably where the “Name + Sir” phenomenon is largest and perhaps even the strongest. Across Sri Lanka, India and Bangladesh, you will constantly hear people refer to superiors, teachers, or public figures as Karu Sir, Vijay Sir, Sachin Sir, Shahrukh Sir, or Ahmad Sir, etc.

Then there is the Indian “Ji” Factor: In Indian languages like Hindi or Punjabi, it is a strict cultural taboo to call an elder or a superior by their bare name. People naturally append the respectful suffix “Ji” (e. g., Gandhi-ji, Sharma-ji). It is then no surprise at all that when switching to English, the Indian mind seamlessly swaps the local suffix Ji for the English honorific Sir, thereby turning Vijay-ji into Vijay Sir.

In Hong Kong, a very specific variation of this exists within the police force and civil service. Influenced by decades of British administration, mixed with Cantonese naming customs, junior officers and the public address superiors by their surname followed by “Sir”, such as “Wong-Sir” or “Chan-Sir“. There is even a universal colloquial generic term, “Ah-Sir“, used commonly to address male police officers or teachers.

In the Philippines, while the syntax is slightly different, the sheer density of “Sir/Madam, Ma’am” usage matches that of Sri Lanka. Filipinos deeply value hierarchical courtesy. While they might say “Sir Jason“, it is incredibly common to use “Sir” almost like a pronoun or a mid-sentence suffix punctuation mark when addressing superiors, bosses, or clients, to ensure that respect is suitably maintained conscientiously.

The mismatch between British English and South/Southeast Asian English comes down to how different native cultures view status and intimacy. In South Asia, especially in Sri Lanka, there is the Linguistic Tradition of the suffix, where an extension in the nation’s own language is inserted into a word to enhance its status. In languages like Sinhala (-thuma / –mahathmaya), in Tamil (-ayyah / –avargal), and in Hindi (-ji), respect is always attached to the end of a name. It simply means that forcefully bringing a sleek word that implies social deference to the front, like Sir John, feels syntactically peculiar or even inappropriate to a native speaker of these local languages.

The “First Name Dilemma” is another type of rather quaint occurrence. In the West, calling your boss simply “John” is seen as a gesture that is egalitarian, free and open. In South Asia, calling an elder or superior by their first name feels somewhat jarringly rude. Conversely, using just “Mr Perera” can also feel too cold, official and even distant. “Perera Sir” or “Silva Sir” strikes the perfect culturally mitigatory concession, as it maintains a warm, personal connection by using the surname while also overtly and safely conveying a layer of professional public respect by adding the word “Sir” as a suffix or a postfix.

Yet for all that, it is worth noting that fundamentally, all languages are symbolic expressions of human thought and human intelligence. Whether expressed as spoken, written or sign language, all dialects are means of human communication. The type of words like “Sir” that we use in the English Language and the real context in which they are used indicate our thoughts in our human intellect. When they are used appropriately, they reflect our commitment to uninhibited respect and even admiration. While the British people and even their Monarch might feel quite a bit confused to hear someone called “Perera Sir”, right across Sri Lanka and its neighbouring nations. Yet for all that, it is simply the most natural and fusion technique to bridge and integrate traditional deference and admiration with modern expressive English.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
An independent freelance correspondent.

Features

The Murder Room

Published

1 day ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 8

The Murder Room gets its title from a room of that name in a museum dedicated to Victorian memorabilia, including famous murders, which are featured in that room. But the first murder in the story occurs outside, when one of the trustees, who had been against renewing the lease of the building – which would have meant the museum having to close – is set on fire when he comes to the museum late one evening to pick up the car in which he went away for weekends. This was a regular habit, and the murderer had obviously lain in wait, with a can of petrol, and set him on fire.

James

I took several books with me when I went to England earlier this year, but as usual I read hardly any of them, finding enough and more of interest in the shelves of those I stayed with. My first stop was at New College, where, as on several previous occasions I stayed in what is known as the Bishop’s Room, on the topmost storey of the Warden’s Lodgings. Sadly, I shall not stay there again, for my friend who has been Warden there for a decade now, Miles Young, retires this year.

The bookshelves there have much of interest though on the last couple of occasions I have concentrated on the detective stories, which Miles says are not his, but came with the house. The second I read this time was by the generally workmanlike P. D. James, whose Adam Dalgliesh is in the long line of whimsical but efficient detectives that has Hercule Poirot at its head. Though I had not been impressed by the one novel I read, featuring James’ female detective, Dalgliesh, I liked it, and this novel confirmed my affection.

The Murder Room

gets its title from a room of that name in a museum dedicated to Victorian memorabilia, including famous murders, which are featured in that room. But the first murder in the story occurs outside, when one of the trustees, who had been against renewing the lease of the building – which would have meant the museum having to close – is set on fire when he comes to the museum late one evening to pick up the car in which he went away for weekends. This was a regular habit, and the murderer had obviously lain in wait, with a can of petrol, and set him on fire.

The other two trustees, his brother and his sister, obviously benefited from his death, for they promptly renewed the lease. The employees of the museum also clearly benefited, for they had all found some sort of refuge here. These included the caretaker/cleaner, who lived in a cottage on the premises, a manager who was unpaid but used the place for his research, the receptionist, who also looked after the flat at the museum which was used by the sister, and two volunteers plus a gardener’s boy.

The caretaker, Tally, came across the fire before discovery had been intended, for an evening class everyone knew she went to on Fridays had been cancelled. On her way in she was knocked off her bicycle by a speeding car, the driver of which stopped to make sure she was safe, before speeding off again. She manages then to summon everyone else, including Dalgliesh, who had visited the museum for the first time a few days earlier, brought by a friend who relished its strange attractions.

The museum has to be closed for a few days while investigations are carried out, but in the course of them the friend brings some transatlantic visitors, and when they are in the Murder Room a chest (in which a body had been supposed to have been hidden in Victorian times) is opened, and a body found there. That murder, the autopsy indicated, had taken place around the time of the first murder.

The body was that of a girl who had attended a finishing school part-owned by the Dupayne sister. When Tally, by chance, sees the man who had knocked her down, and identifies him as a Lord who was known for his philanthropy, Dalgliesh realises that there are wheels within wheels here. The Lord confesses that he belonged to a group that met for promiscuous sex in the flat, and that he had planned to meet the girl there but she had not turned up.

Lord Martlesham, when the girl failed to appear, thought he should get away after the fire broke out. It was then that he had bumped into Tally, and his stopping to make sure she was all right indicated that he could not have been the murderer. Dalgliesh then deduced that the murderer had seen the girl at the window of the murder room, from which she must have seen the preparations for the murder. That was why she too had been killed.

Dalgliesh then has a fair idea of who the murderer was, but in waiting for proof, he leaves room for yet another murder to happen. For Tally, who had been mulling over something said on the night of the murder, asking about the petrol that caused the fire, realized that she had not mentioned petrol herself. This happened on her way back to her cottage, and not having a phone herself she goes into the museum to call, and then gets back to her cottage and locks herself in.

But then she hears her cat howling and goes out to find him strung up. She cuts him down, but when she goes back to the cottage the murderer is waiting and knocks her down. That happens in the section called The Third Victim, but this is in fact a boy on a motorbike knocked down by the speeding car of the escaping murderer. So Dalgliesh is able to effect an arrest when he turns up as summoned, and fortunately is in time to resuscitate Tally and send her to hospital.

The reason for the murder and the identity of its perpetrator are then fairly straightforward, though the background to the second murder introduces an element of loose living that contrasts with the Victorian age, or at least the image it projected – undercut though that is by the murders highlighted in the Murder Room with their sexual overtones.

And there is another louche element in the adventures of the gardener’s boy, who lives with a Major who is homosexual, though he declares, truthfully it seems, that he was not attracted at all to the boy but had given him shelter because of his vulnerability. He is generally charming, but capable of rages, in one of which he knocked down the major, though he was forgiven. He had taken shelter with Tally, who was fond of him but decided she preferred to live alone, which was why she had sent him away the day before she was attacked.

The murdered brother was a psychiatrist, and it turns out that the mysterious weekends he spent away from his London home were spent at country inns, where he took long walks to clear his mind of the demons his practice kept bringing into it. His profession also contributed to his death, in addition to his standing in the way of the museum continuing to exist, for one of his patients, connected to the murderer, had set fire to herself.

Solid plotting, with all the loose ends tied up, of incidents and the bizarre cast of characters.