Features
Remembering an April half a century ago
The month of April 1971. Fifty three years ago. Never to be forgotten by the older of us. Ceylon that year was embroiled in anarchy and the country was on the brink of being taken over by insurgents. We were still known as Ceylon then since the name change to Sri Lankan was in 1972.
1971 JVP Insurrection
I need not detail or even refer to most of what happened in 1970 and 71. ‘Kill’ was the operative word; youth to the forefront; rivers turned red with human blood; smoking tyres with bodies inside fouled the air and dread, dread an utter uncertainty prevailed. Names in the forefront on the government side were Srimavo Bandaranaike, PM; Felix Dias Bandaranaike, Minister of Justice; Sepala Attyglle, Army Commander; SA ‘Jungle’ Dissanayake, former IGP brought back as Addl. Secretary to the Ministry of External Affairs and Defense. The top person in the JVP was of course Rohana Wijeweera, with Wijesena Vidanage, Somawanse Amarasinghe and a couple of others his next tier leaders.
The Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna’s ruse to transfer messages to its cadres distributed almost all over Ceylon was unique – fictitious obituary notices printed in newspapers and announced over Radio Ceylon, indicating times of meetings, more importantly attacking police stations, and which. Four missions were planned and assigned to the nationwide 5 April attack, main responsibility devolving on the Student Wing called the ‘Red Guard.’ Targets were: the Panagoda Army Cantonment, RCyAF Katunayake, abduction of the PM, capture of the city of Colombo, Welikada Prison, Radio Ceylon, Sravasti and burning of houses of govt VVIPs. Also, attack of police stations to obtain arms and ammunition.
Unfortunately for the JVP and with destiny’s blessings for the country and its people, the Wellawaya police station was attacked prematurely, the JVP leader there mixing directions. Thus began the apprehension of insurgents from all over and mass killings. The PM had to give the order – KILL – but the police rounded up innocent youth and thus the rivers red with blood and bodies strewn all over. Several countries came to Ceylon’s aid. The insurgency was crushed but damage caused was immense. The JVP was proscribed; many of its leaders apprehended until Prez JRJ in 1977 released Wijeweera from his Jaffna prison. They regrouped to rise in revolt and create worse disaster in the late 1980s.
Personal narrative
Detailed accounts of the 1971 insurgency, the JVP, the then government are available aplenty on Internet and in print form. Memories of those who lived through those years as adults are fresh still, indelibly inscribed in their minds, facts pertaining to the nation and individually to each of them,. I am haunted even now, 53 years later, by my clearly etched remembrances of the disaster faced by the nation and even more so by my personal suffering as a mother.
The Avurudhu season was beginning when the JVP were stymied in their huge undertaking of taking over the rule of the land. Stocks of essentials were low in homes and difficult to come by. Queues had to be positioned in to get the bare needs of rice, dhal, milk powder et al. My husband and I were in separate queues when our cook/ child minder came hurriedly to say our son had developed patches on his skin. He had developed a temperature the previous day and because of curfew at 3.00 pm and general uncertainty, we had seen our GP, Dr TDD Perera, who said it was flu. We hurried home to find the 11-year old with a high temperature. A fourth year medical student in the neighbourhood diagnosed it as meningitis and recommended his removal to the Lady Ridgeway Hospital. The patches were capillary bleeding. We phoned Dr Perera, who booked us a room at Sulaiman’s Nursing Home in Grandpass, promising the best medical care; which proved to be true.
And thus my staying a full three weeks from April 10 with my son in hospital with not even a visit home; completely separated from what was going on outside and barely hearing the news of the country. Dr Stella de Silva came immediately we settled the sick child in the nursing home. I must note here that I never dilly dally when illness is the issue, but in this case everything was done in double quick time which was essential and a godsend in this particular illness. He had a severe headache the first night but not one moan or groan. The deep anxiety and searing emotional suffering were soon lessened because my son responded well to treatment given. We soon settled down to hospital routines, me cut away from the unrest and urgency outside, except experiencing it with visits of doctors and husband and relatives.
Doctors
Dr Stella de Silva, that marvelous and totally dedicated pediatrician, used to visit twice at the beginning and then reduced her visits to once in the afternoon and that at around 2.15 pm. She’d make herself comfortable on my son’s bed and play soldiers with him and comment on his drawings of the day. I palpitated as the minute hand got closer to 12. I intruded by saying curfew time was drawing close. Her reply: “But I must get this child well.”
The army officers on duty were very severe in having the public observe curfew times. One story that went around was handsome neurologist specialist being challenged as he drove just after 3.00 pm. Ordered to get out of his car and raise both arms, he was asked to identify himself. He did with the answer “neurosurgeon.” Raised was the army officer’s gun to shoot because his limited English twisted the answer to insurgent. Mercifully his finger on the trigger hesitated!
A young medical officer wore miniskirts but retained dress decorum with her below the knees white coat. She was met outside the hospital minus her doctor’s coat and had trouble lifting both arms when ordered to. One was tugging down her skirt. The two soldiers desiring seeing more, shouted: both arms up.
Three women doctors were house officers at Sulaiman’s. One was Dr de Zoysa who I later came to know was Richard’s mother – that brilliant actor on stage, writer, activist and super human being who was abducted and murdered and dumped in the sea on February 18, 1990 to be lost forever. But his body washed ashore at Lunawa and thence his mother, Dr Manorani Saravanamuttu’s work with distressed women.
Manorani asked me to accompany her to visit a seriously ill patient one morning. I was naturally reluctant but she insisted. I went with her to a room and there was the bed laden with Indian saris – a magnified kaleidoscope spread out.
Another house officer, Zaiboon, was an ex-classmate of mine driving her white Benz and absolutely glamorous. She’d change her hairstyle daily. I commented. “Oh they are wigs. I lost my hair after a recent attack of typhoid.” Stunned, I was rudely brought back to the reality of life.
Much was going on outside my temporary haven, a haven now with my son much better. Could we take him home, my husband asked after 15 days. Dr Stella asked whether it was economics. No, we replied. “Why give ladders to prancing monkeys?” she asked in its Sinhala translation. We understood she meant the best for the recovered child was a longer period of convalescence within hospital discipline.
Those three weeks I thought of myself as a pebble, buffeted by worry but now assured of my son recovering and me lying quietly as the river of life beside me flowed smooth in the routine of the hospital. I hardly heard the thunder of the outside white waters as armed forces’ trucks sped around; soldiers and police swarmed all over and yet the smoking tyres, the red water of rivers, fear and searing wails of mothers losing their teenagers to a cause they could not comprehend.
1971 and 1989
The JVP reared its bloody head and rose even more viciously to drown the island in chaos, murder, torture and fear, around 18 years after its first failed insurrection. Everyone was affected. In the earlier uprising the people themselves were not involved unless of course family members were in the movement or as teenagers, caught and killed by police and armed forces.
The second uprising had hastily scribbled notes of warning sending shops and businesses closing; patients with attached tubes leaving hospitals and general mayhem. Schools and universities closed; teenagers needed protection from JVP conscription; burning and destruction all over; restrictions like no lights, no watching TV and forced entry to homes in search of guns. FEAR ruled the centre and south of the island while the north was held captive by the LTTE.
Ranjan Wijeratne was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs and State Minister of Defence by President Premadasa and he, aided by commanders of the three forces and police, brought the parlous situation under control. Rohana Wijeweera was caught; he ratted on the second tier of command in the JVP; and was executed in Kanatta, Borella. The backbone of the violent JVP was broken asunder.
Features
Eastern University and the making of a culture of peace
by Jehan Perera
There is an important change in the way peace is being understood in Sri Lanka. The notion that peacebuilding is not simply the responsibility of governments, politicians and peace organisations, but is also a responsibility of educational institutions, appears to be permeating the consciousness of at least a section of the academic community. This was visible on International Peace Day at an event held at Eastern University by the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences. The event was unusual not least because the medical and nursing faculty of the university had decided that peacebuilding was relevant to its academic and professional responsibilities.
Peacebuilding has too often been treated as something undertaken after conflict, when the fighting has stopped and the immediate task is to rebuild relationships between communities. But peace cannot be sustained by governments and peace organisations alone. If it is to become long lasting, the values and practices of peace have to become part of the institutions through which a society educates its younger generations. Universities and other educational institutions are therefore important to peacebuilding. They are among the places where the foundations of a culture of peace can either be built or neglected.
The experience of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University provides a practical example of what this can mean. Led by its Dean, Prof Thillainathan Sathaananthan, the faculty organised an event which went beyond the ordinary academic scope of a medical faculty. University academics are experts in writing project proposals and applying for research grants. On this occasion, the members of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences used those skills to apply for a UNESCO grant that they won to conduct an International Peace Day event. The significance lies less in the Rs 200,000 grant than in the decision to use the university’s institutional capacity and resources to invest in peacebuilding. The event at Eastern University needs to be understood as more than a successful university programme. It represents a possible paradigm shift in peace thinking.
Institutional Commitment
The Peace Day event obtained the support of the university administration, including Vice Chancellor Prof P Peratheepan, and reached out to secondary schools in the vicinity to mobilise their attendance. The event itself was meticulously organised. There were cultural items including traditional and modern dance and song in the three languages, performed by combinations of solo, duet and multiple singers, dancers and actors drawn in part from nearby secondary schools. There was a panel discussion by senior academics on the general theme of peacebuilding and how to prepare for it. A discussion among the students followed, where each student spoke on behalf of a religion that was not theirs. This is significant because peacebuilding cannot remain an idea discussed by specialists at conferences. It has to become part of the way institutions educate and prepare people for life in a plural society.
The Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University has provided a model through its Peace Medicine course modules that were introduced to the curricular as a compulsory core course over 10 years ago. Two senior academics, Dr Kuveriel Eliyas Karunakaran and Dr Thillainathan Sathaananthan, have written a book on “Peace Medicine- A Health Care Concern” that was published five years ago. Its Peace Medicine Module integrates principles of medical ethics, compassion, equity, social justice and community engagement into health education and practice. In his introduction, former Vice Chancellor of Eastern University, Prof T Jayasingam noted “This book is an introduction to a theme which had already been operating in the Faculty of Health Care Sciences as a course.”
Doctors, nurses and health workers know better than anyone the harm that war and violence does. They are the people who treat the wounds and trauma that violence leaves behind. In a hospital, a patient is not asked what their religion or ethnicity is before they are treated. Health care is one of the places where peace is practised every day. The Faculty has therefore found a way of connecting its professional responsibilities with the wider social responsibility of peacebuilding. The question is whether this experience can be replicated throughout the country, at universities and at other educational institutions, so that peacebuilding becomes part of the consciousness of education itself. If that happens on a sufficient scale, it can begin to generate a culture of peace that becomes increasingly difficult to reverse.
Local Action
The Eastern University event corresponded closely to the United Nations theme for this year’s International Day of Peace, “Invest in Peace – For Everyone, Everywhere, Every Day”, which honours the “everyday architects of peace”, people driving local action, laying the groundwork for stability and building lasting peace from the ground up. The emphasis on investment is important. An investment means that something is put in: time, courage and resources. There is no more violent conflict in Sri Lanka today. But the absence of war does not automatically produce a culture of peace. The factors that fed the country’s conflict have not disappeared from the world. Racism, corruption and the violation of laws and human rights are the raw materials of conflict. So too are unresolved grievances, discrimination and the failure to recognise the suffering of others.
A country that does not deal with its past does not escape it. The past can return in the next generation. This is why the experience of Eastern University needs to be replicated countrywide, both at universities and at other educational institutions. The objective should not be to turn every academic discipline into peace studies. Rather, peacebuilding needs to become part of the consciousness of education itself. Eastern University shows that a medical faculty can develop Peace Medicine. A law faculty can examine the relationship between justice, rights and peace. Faculties of education can prepare teachers to work in diverse communities, while the humanities and social sciences can examine the different narratives through which communities understand their histories. Every institution can find its own way of making peacebuilding relevant to what it teaches.
Sri Lanka has had many declarations, pledges and programmes in the past. What matters is whether these produce changes in behaviour and institutional practice. Peacebuilding requires confronting difficult issues rather than avoiding them. It requires respect for different identities, but also engagement across those identities. It requires dealing with grievances in the present while also addressing unresolved issues from the past. It requires truth, accountability, reparations and guarantees of non-recurrence. It requires people to learn that the rights of another community do not diminish their own rights. The International Peace Day event at Eastern University was evidence of a change in the way at least some academics in a part of the country deeply affected by war are thinking about their responsibilities. Peace needs to be invested in and the most important investment will be in the minds of those who will inherit the future.
Features
Quality assured education commodities
by Ahilan Kadirgamar
I have always noticed the little paper tags that are inside the packaging of some products that say quality assured or quality control. I often wonder who might have checked the product and stamped that tag, but I also forget the tag soon enough. Decades later, when I entered academia, I was taken aback by the emphasis placed on quality assurance in our universities. It is not something that could be forgotten and done away with; the entire university system is obsessed with quality assurance.
Beginning with the staff induction programme, quality assurance is drilled into the newly recruited lecturers. It is the norm, not seen as doing any harm and only trying to improve quality. It is accepted as given, and not questioned. Quality Assurance Cells and Committees are omnipresent and hover above the Departments and, at times, even the Faculty Boards. Quality Assurance reviews are feared by the Deans and Vice Chancellors. University life itself seems secondary to the rule of quality assurance. What do we make of this system of quality assurance and what are its implications for our university system?
Corporate speak
Universities globally have been going through major changes with neoliberal education policies. In many countries, universities increasingly became corporatised to be run like businesses in the 1980s. As state support for universities declined, cost cutting became the norm. They started hiring adjunct or part-time staff. Many public non-fee levying universities around the world began to charge fees. Decade by decade, tuition fees became more and more exorbitant, forcing students to take student loans. The total student debt in the United States now stands at close to US$ 2 trillion; which is about 20 times the GDP of Sri Lanka. As the higher education landscape transformed in the West, university administrations began to recruit Presidents, Vice Chancellors and administrative officials with corporate backgrounds and experience.
Such corporatisation of universities in the West has since been imported into countries like Sri Lanka, introducing a new corporate vocabulary, including quality assurance, graduate competencies, programme outcomes, intended learning outcomes, etc. University teaching has become secondary to documenting so-called outcomes. The teacher-student relationship, the environment of the lecture hall and even administering the university have been over-determined by the processes of ensuring quality. How did such major changes come about in such a short time? Indeed, academics of just two generation ago, would never have heard of these terms and processes in the Sri Lankan university system.
World Bank Trojan horse
Since the early 2000s there have been a number of World Bank projects that have drastically changed the character of Sri Lankan universities. Quality assurance as a central agenda within universities, and many other changes to the working of our universities, came through these World Bank initiatives. The Improving Relevance and Quality of Undergraduate Education (IRQUE) project and Higher Education for the 21st Century (HETC) project were two such earlier projects that set up the Quality Assurance and Accreditation Unit (QAAU) under the University Grants Commission (UGC) and established systematic quality assurance reviews for state universities. The public often thinks these are grants from the World Bank to modernise our universities. However, they are not grants but loans.
The most recent such project, Accelerating Higher Education Expansion and Development (AHEAD) is a US$ 100 million loan from the World Bank implemented from 2018 to 2023, which consolidated the quality assurance structures from the earlier projects. Furthermore, these projects are implemented with tremendous arrogance, prioritising their implementation over all other concerns in the universities, when the project over six years for example accounts for just one fourth of our budget allocation for universities this year.
The AHEAD project drastically changed course curricula, sought to increase student enrolment in science, technology, engineering, mathematics (STEM) disciplines, commercialise the university research agenda and create university-business linkages. All of this was pushed to supposedly help us face development challenges. We have heard the ideological attack on our universities and even students claiming they are “unemployable graduates”. These changes to our higher education system were supposedly going to create jobs and increase employment.
The irony of the AHEAD project is that just as it was ending in 2023, apparently after having reached its targets, the Sri Lankan economy was collapsing. The World Bank often gets the direction of causality wrong. It is the economy that creates jobs for graduates, and not the training or kind of graduates that create jobs. It is decades of World Bank policies, and those of its ideological twin the IMF, that have led to such high youth unemployment, not only in Sri Lanka but also in many other countries in the global South.
Sri Lanka entered an IMF agreement in March 2023 and started a new Country Partnership Framework with the World Bank in June 2023. These programmes have little to say about, and actively discourage, government initiatives that aim to create an industrial policy or an employment creation policy. Instead, they push for austerity measures, which not only restrict the allocation for education among other sectors, but also end up contracting the economy to the detriment of increasing employment. Their goal is the commercialisation of higher education, to make universities into businesses and run them like factories.
In this context, the ideology of quality assurance is powerful. The International Organisation for Standardisation (ISO), whose different standards are necessary for marketing, is the institution that came up with the concept of “quality assurance”. It promoted quality assurance as a process of identifying defected products. Therefore, when the World Bank promotes this conceptual framing, our students are, in fact, seen as products on the assembly line, with quality assurance processes aiming to prevent the release of defected products from the university system. For the US$ 100 million we borrowed for the AHEAD project and the many more million dollars in similar World Bank projects, there is no evidence of increased employment of graduates.
Commodity fetishism
Over a century and a half ago, Karl Marx critiqued the economic analysis prevalent at that time that associated some inherent or monetary value for commodities without considering the social relations that underlie the production of those commodities. Marx called this commodity fetishism. Furthermore, he theorised that such commodity fetishism was also a reason for the alienation of human beings from the world. If our labour and what we produce is seen devoid of the social relations that underlie them, we lose our connection with the people and the world. In this process we become alienated from what we produce and the world.
We are now in a world where our students themselves are fetishised as commodities for the market. Universities are no longer communities concerned about knowledge and human growth, but mere factories producing commodities, which have to be produced without defects to be marketed. In this way, quality assurance has become the cause for the alienation of students, academics and our universities themselves, from the larger relationship with our economy and society.
Our university system does need reform. It is grossly underfunded and not providing the financial support and facilities for our students. Universities have become hierarchical spaces without the academic freedom and democratic ethos necessary for producing knowledge. Academics and students need to engage more with their communities to make their learning and research meaningful, not to mention their contribution to and integration with society. However, when it comes to even questions of governance and regulation of the universities, such concerns are merely reduced to improving quality. In our contemporary times, this singular focus on quality assurance, as opposed to addressing the larger structural issues, is crippling our universities. There may be no way out, but to put back quality assurance where it started, those little tags on goods, to perhaps be noticed but quickly forgotten.
Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.
(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)
Features
Thailand’s biggest new global star …
The entertainment scene, globally, is agog with excitement, and, why not!
Yes, a new global star has emerged … from Thailand, and she hit the headlines by winning America’s Got Talent.
Rattikarn Amloy, known to millions by her stage name Nene Royal, was crowned the winner of America’s Got Talent (AGT) Season 21 at the live finale at Pasadena Civic Auditorium, California, taking home the USD 1 million grand prize.
The 16-year-old rocker, from the holiday island of Phuket (I’ve been to Phuket, courtesy Tourism Authority of Thailand), has struck a power chord around the world, and is the first Thai national ever to win the hit NBC show.
She beat nine other finalists, including runner-up magician Geno Ploeger, after a blistering final performance.
Nene’s story is pure rock and roll fairy-tale. She says she picked up a guitar at age seven, fell in love at the first chord, and taught herself mostly by watching videos online. That dedication earned her a music scholarship to Kajonkiet International School Phuket.
Her audition at America’s Got Talent — a swaggering, shredding rendition of The Cranberries’ classic ‘Zombie’ — exploded online, amassing over 200 million views across AGT’s platforms, more than any act this season.
She kept wowing: ‘Hysteria’ by Muse, then ‘Black Hole Sun’ by Soundgarden which earned her Spice Girl Mel B’s Golden Buzzer, sending her straight to the live shows.
For the final, she unleashed ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Judge Howie Mandel shouted: “You should win. Give her the million, America.” Mel B praised her “mysterious, mystical stage presence”.
And for the grand finale, she lived every teen rocker’s dream — performing on stage, alongside US rock giants Linkin Park.
When host Terry Crews announced her as winner, the teenager collapsed to the stage floor in tears. “I’m very happy and you know I’m emotional right now,” she said.
And Thailand erupted. Her school held watch parties, posting: “You did it, congratulations, champion. We are so proud of you.”
Even Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul sent a personal congratulation. He had earlier hosted Nene at Government House in July, where she played guitar while he sang a Thai rock song. His office said her talent “brought pride to Thai people.”
Corporate Thailand also rallied behind her — Charoen Pokphand Foods, owned by billionaire Dhanin Chearavanont, even rented a giant billboard in Times Square, New York, to cheer her on.
With her blistering guitar solos, rock-ballad shrieks and fearless spirit, little Nene Royal has just become Thailand’s biggest new global star.
What’s more, this amazing teenager will be bringing her powerful vocals, guitar skills and signature rock-metal style to the stage, as opening act, before one of the world’s biggest rock bands, America’s Avenged Sevenfold, in Singapore, on 13 October.
Unfortunately, we are still to see a local artiste, grab the spotlight, on a global scale … like Thailand’s Nene.
Yes, they do shine, but mostly on social media, and that, too, with the aid of AI (Artificial Intellegence).
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