Opinion

Revisiting Humanism in Education: Insights from Tagore – II

Published

2 months ago

2025/02/18

Sahan Weerasooriya

by Panduka Karunanayake

Professor in the Department of Clinical Medicine and former Director, Staff Development Centre,
University of Colombo

The 34th J.E. Jayasuriya Memorial Lecture

14 February 2025

SLFI Auditorium, Colombo

(Continued from 17 Feb.)

Tagore and humanism

Tagore was born to a wealthy Bengali family in British colonial India in the year 1861. This was a time of great social transformation in India, involving political, social, religious and literary movements. In his youth he saw the organisational structure that I described in its formative days, and immediately realised how it is unsuited for anything except the British colonial plans. In particular, he appreciated the strengths of traditional Indian education such as the gurukula, ashrama and tapovana systems, the value of the aesthetic sense to human growth and the role of the environment in our lives. He placed a huge importance on emotions and social values, and decried a materialistic or hedonistic approach to life. Always explaining his ideas through brilliant similes, he said: “The timber merchant may think that flowers and foliage are only frivolous decorations for a tree, but he will know to his cost that if these are eliminated, the timber follows them.”

But he also saw the value of the science and technology that the British were bringing in. He wasn’t a simplistic indigene fighting to chase the British out. He wanted to combine the good of both the old and the new, both India and the world. The best description that we can give of the man is call him a great harmoniser of ideas and an incorrigible optimist.

According to Subhransu Maitra, who is a well-known Indian intellectual who translates Bengali works into English, Tagore’s experimental journey on education lasted approximately fifty years, from the 1890s to the 1940s, and evolved through three phases. In the first phase, roughly from the 1890s to the 1910s, he thought of education as ‘freedom to learn,’ in contradistinction to the kind of straightjacketed rote-learning that British colonial education had introduced to India. He also fought for education in the mother tongue instead of English. This was the time Tagore set up the Brahmacharyashrama, a school for boys in Santiniketan. In the second phase, from the 1910s to the 1930s, he thought of education as ‘freedom from ignorance and want’ and as a powerful tool to emancipate humanity from poverty, superstition and suffering. This was the time when he set up the Visva-Bharati in Santiniketan, his version of a university, as well as Sriniketan, his effort at rural upliftment. And in the third phase, from the 1930s until his death in 1941, which was the time when Visva-Bharati was flourishing, he thought of education as an internationalist, humanist project or ‘freedom from bondage’, in contradistinction to nationalism. I will follow Tagore’s journey in this sequence, and at each stage try to highlight the lessons his educational philosophy gives us today.

But in toto, I feel that the common thread that runs through this journey is his commitment to humanistic education – a term that actually became popular only after his death, following the work of educational psychologists such as Abraham Maslow and Carl Rogers. So let me start by briefly explaining what humanistic education means.

Humanistic education is the application of the principles of humanism or humanistic philosophy to education. I am sure that many in this audience already know what humanism means, but bear with me when I try to explain it. I want to highlight the fact that humanism is not the same as some concepts with which it is often conflated – such as humanitarianism or humaneness or the humanities. In essence, humanism believes in the primacy of human agency, or the belief that humans are in charge of their own destinies; it is an Enlightenment idea that took agency away from divinity and placed it in the hands of the human being. (But of course, it is also very much part of some ancient philosophies.) But it identifies this agency as a responsibility both to oneself and one’s society, rather than as a libertarian licence. The ideal of humanism is human flourishing – not hedonism, nor any goal in the afterlife.

In humanism, human beings are considered independent, inherently good and capable of positive growth. One might look at these assumptions somewhat cynically – but it is hard to deny these qualities to a newborn child who has arrived on this world in all its innocence. As Tagore once famously said, “Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.”

As Ratna Navaratnam (1958) wrote in New Frontiers in East-West Philosophies of Education:

“Humanism takes as its dominant pattern the progress of the individual from helpless infancy to self-governing maturity…The child is put at the centre of the picture and the educator judges the truth of any theory and the success of any system, by the contribution it makes to the transformation of creative childhood into creative manhood.”

In humanistic education, several features can be identified:

* The student is given a free choice to decide what to study, how and for how long, within reason. As a result, the motivation to learn is intrinsic, rather than extrinsic goals such as exams, grades or certificates.

* The educational experience is left open, exploratory and self-driven. There is little or no emphasis on a curriculum, syllabus or what we today call ‘intended learning outcomes’.

* The setting for learning is safe. What the teacher does is provide the student with the resources to quench curiosity and play a supportive and facilitatory role, as a resource person and guide. There is no coercion, judgement, criticism or corporeal punishment.

* The learning environment focuses on both cognitive and emotional aspects of the learning experience; in other words, both ‘knowing’ and ‘feeling’ are considered valid and important to the learning process.

* And finally, at least a significant portion of the learning time is spent in contact with nature and the environment, rather than inside a classroom.

With that background, let me now turn to the three phases in Tagore’s journey in education.

Phase 1: ‘Freedom to learn’

Tagore was urged to experiment with education because he saw the unsatisfactory nature of schools, which he described as “…educational factories, lifeless, colourless, dissociated from the context of the universe, within bare white walls, staring like eyeballs of the dead…It provided information and knowledge for the intellectual growth and it neglected the aspects of human growth.”

Let me quote Tagore at length:

“The way we understand it, the word school means an education factory or mill of which the schoolmaster is a part. The bell goes off at half past ten and the mill begins to work. As the mill starts, the master also keeps spouting off. The mill closes at four o’clock. The master too, stops spouting and the students return home, their heads stuffed with factory-made lessons. Later, at the time of examinations, these lessons are evaluated and stamped.

“The advantage of factory production is that the products are exactly made to a standard and the products of different factories differ but little from one another. So, it is easy to grade them. But individuals differ a great deal from one another. Even an individual may not be the same from one day to the next.

“Even so, a man cannot get from machines what he gets from another man. A machine produces, it can’t give. It can supply oil, but it can’t light a lamp.”

Tagore’s journey was dedicated to find a suitable alternative to such factory-style education

You can see that he disliked uniformity and intellectual dominance in education, and he preferred freedom to do, experience, feel and learn. This is especially noteworthy today, because educational psychologists have since found the importance of the affective domain for learning: the so-called cognitive-emotional model of learning.

Importantly, the reason he liked a more active style of learning is not merely because it is better for assimilation or long-term memory – as we are accustomed to think today – but because it promoted the growth of individual talents and tastes and imparted a communitarian rather than an individualistic outlook to life.

He also preferred a more idyllic, rural setting to educate children, because he felt that cities and towns rob the students of their bonding with nature, which was necessary for the growing mind to grow freely, wholistically and strongly. This also included creating opportunities for social contact with the rural folk, and trying to help the villagers at least in small ways. So he was especially keen that school and society were welded together. That was his way of teaching two things: first, communication skills, and second, a sense of social service. It would be interesting to compare this to a similar local experiment: Dr C.W.W. Kannangara’s Handessa rural education scheme. (For an excellent account, see Gunasekara [2013].)

To Tagore, the school-society link was also necessary to impart moral virtues: “It is utterly futile to expect that the preaching of a few textbook precepts…at school will set right everything when countless varieties of dishonesty and perversity are destroying decency and taste every moment in today’s artificial life. This only results in different kinds of hypocrisy and insolent flippancy in the name of morality…”

All around us today, we can see how textbook-based teaching of virtues has led to hypocrisy among those who do wrong with impunity, flippancy among those who allow wrong to happen as if it is the norm, and cynicism among those who try to reconcile what they see with what they were taught in classrooms.

I am sure you will appreciate that some of Tagore’s humanistic ideas are being put into practice in pre-school and primary education even today, for instance following the teachings of Maria Montessori. In Sri Lanka, however, because of the bottleneck effect of exams, they are being throttled by the competitiveness and the rush to obtain certificates. This has enormous implications to our own education system. What Tagore taught us – by not judging learning through exams – is that if we had exams, much of what we expect students to learn would be ignored because they are not specifically assessed in the exams. The reason we want exams is because we want to compare student with student. But how can we compare student with student if each student is a unique person? What do we value greater: the comparison or the uniqueness? We must be careful when answering this question, because often it turns out that our answer is actually not that of the educationist but that of the industrialist, and not that of our society’s but that of the countries in the core of knowledge production.

Phase 2: ‘Freedom from ignorance and want’

This is perhaps the phase of his work that is hardest to pin down to a few fundamentals. But I will try.

To me, it appears that his first lesson is to tailor education to our own needs, rather than to import and transplant an educational system from elsewhere. (Tagore himself was, of course, warning about the dangers of blindly following the British system.) This is an excellent testament for what we today call contextual knowledge or conditional knowledge.

Looking around, I cannot help feel that this is such an important lesson for us too. I wish that as educationists we paid more attention to this. We cannot do so if we merely ask our teachers to do what international experts advise. We must study our own society, our own past practices and experiments, how they have succeeded or failed and why, what would work for us now and so on. Tagore said:

“Only when we are able to channel the current of education in our country through the numerous experiments of numerous teachers, it will become a natural thing of the country. Only then will we come across real teachers here and there, now and then. Only then a tradition, a succession of teachers will naturally follow. We cannot invent a particular educational system by labelling it as ‘national’. We can call ‘national’ only education of that kind which is being conducted in a variety of ways through a variety of endeavours by a variety of our countrymen…When a particular education system seeks to fasten a static ideal on to the country, we cannot call it ‘national’. It is communal and therefore, fatal to the country.”

To me, such a uniform education system is worse than communal – at best it would facilitate pedantry, at worst it could even facilitate totalitarianism and fascism.

Importantly, Tagore was keen to point out that when times change, the same energy needs to be spent on amending our systems and practices. In one speech he used a beautiful simile: he likened time to a river, and said that people who don’t change with changing times are like the people who would not change the position of the ferry even after the river has changed its position. He asked, How can they cross the river from the old ferry? This would be great advice for a country that still runs its educational system dictated to by policies that are over eighty years old.

The next crucial lesson is his trust in science and technology – but only appropriate technology – as well as his disdain for outdated traditions, superstitions and rituals. In this sense, he was remarkably modern. He said:

“When in the East we were busy calling upon the ghostbuster in case of disease, the astrologer to placate hostile planets in case of trouble, worshiping the goddess Sitala to ward off smallpox and similar epidemics, and practising home-grown black magic to get rid of enemies, in the West a woman asked Voltaire: ‘I have heard one can kill whole flocks of sheep by chanting a mantra?’ Voltaire replied: ‘It can certainly be done, but an adequate supply of arsenic along with it is also required.’ It cannot be absolutely ruled out that a modicum of faith in magic and the supernatural still persists in isolated pockets in Europe, but a trust in the efficacy of arsenic in this connection is almost universal there. That is why they can kill us whenever they want to and we are liable to die even when we do not want to.”

Tagore was wise enough to note that the British colonial government was actually quite keen to deny Indians this gift of science and technology. He pointed out that the colonial colleges and universities actually functioned with many constraints and limitations imposed by the colonial government. One of the main hopes that Tagore had in establishing Visva-Bharati was overcoming this. He knew that foreigners, both western and eastern, yearn to come to India to learn about her strong and vibrant achievements in the humanities. He welcomed them. In return, he also created space for Indians to come there and learn what the West had to teach – which, of course, was mainly science. This was the confluence of East and West that Tagore envisaged for Visva-Bharati. And I think that one
of the reasons why Visva-Bharati failed later on was that after Independence, India had an alternative, perhaps better way to forge ahead with science, when Jawaharlal Nehru set up the Indian Institutes of Technology. But I wonder whether Tagore’s plan in combining the strength in our humanities with the strength in science and technology of other lands within our educational system could still serve us here.

Tagore also created Sriniketan and its Institute of Rural Reconstruction, a rural upliftment
programme using what would later come to be called ‘appropriate technology’. This was not a
blind exercise in importing European machines and gadgets like washing machines or floor polishers. Instead, it was an attempt to solve the problems faced by the rural folk by the use of scientific knowledge and appropriate technological tools. It included components such as rural education, village sanitation, roving dispensaries, anti-malaria and child welfare schemes, cooperative societies, scientific
agriculture, experimental farming, dairy farming, weaving, tannery, smithy, carpentry and other
projects. It was designed to promote selfconfidence and self-help and eliminate ignorance and superstition among the villagers. As Tagore described his educational mission:

“Our centre of culture should not only be the centre of intellectual life of India, but the centre of her economic life as well. It must cultivate land, breed cattle, to feed itself and its students; it
must produce all necessaries, devising the best means and using the best materials, calling science to its aid. Its very success would depend on the success of its industrial ventures carried out on the co-operative principle; which will unite the teachers and students in a living and active bond of necessity. This will also give us a practical, industrial training, whose motive is not profit.”

When the time came for Tagore to send his son Rathindranath for higher education, he sent him not to Oxford but to learn agricultural science at Illinois: “Indians should learn to become better farmers in Illinois than better ‘gentlemen’ in Oxford”. Similarly, he sent the children of his relatives and friends, including his son-in-law, to learn other skills, such as scientific dairykeeping, the cooperative movement and rural medical systems.

We can see that Tagore’s educational philosophy was not merely bookish but also practical, not merely ideological but also pragmatic, not merely effective but also of quality, and not merely focused on the individual but also on uplifting the community. We can see that it was not pedantic but contextual, not blind but appropriate, and not profit-oriented but promoting human flourishing.

(To be concluded)

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Opinion

Some aspects of China’s development model

Published

21 hours ago

2025/04/10

Sahan Weerasooriya

by Shiran Illanperuma

China’s rapid development over the last few decades has been the source of much debate among economists. Some claim China as the model par excellence of market liberalisation and the superiority of private sector driven growth. Others equally argue that China’s model is one of planning and state intervention.

On 28 March, I was invited by Nexus Research to deliver a presentation on China’s development model alongside former Ambassador to China Dr. Palitha Kohona. Unfortunately, the contents of this presentation have been misreported in an article in the Island published on 4 April (Dr Kohona: developing countries should covet China model). The article claimed that my presentation touched on “low-cost labour, foreign direct investments, and global trade agreements”. In fact, such simplistic tropes were precisely what I had intended to counter.

China’s development model challenges many of the axioms of neoclassical economics. If low-cost labour were the decisive factor for take-off, then investment should be pouring into much-cheaper labour markets in sub-Saharan Africa. On the contrary, rising wages in China have not led to the outflow of capital one would expect under such a model. This is because the advantage China offers is a healthy and skilled workforce (relative to price) and an infrastructural system that keeps non-wage operating costs (such as transport and energy) low. This, combined with a domestic value chain, is China’s main strength and why economic growth has been combined with rising wages and standards of living.

While foreign direct investment (FDI) has been a huge part of China’s success story, it is possible to overstate their importance. First, FDIs only really took off from the 1990s onwards, yet to begin there would be to ignore the decades of work done to develop the country’s agricultural self-sufficiency, basic industrial system, and institutional structure. Second, what has mattered for China is the quality of FDI, which is determined by government policy. By the standards of the OECD Foreign Direct Investment Regulatory Restrictiveness Index, China remains fairly selective on what FDI is allowed and encouraged. FDI is promoted not as an end in itself but as a means to acquire technology that should be transferred to national champions.

Role of Local Government

A significant portion of my presentation for Nexus Research was on the role of local governments economic policy – something that is often neglected (though there is a growing literature on the subject). China has a fairly decentralised system of governance, a product of its vast size and geography, as well as the institutional changes and experiments in direct democracy during the period of the Cultural Revolution.

Chinese economist Xiaohuan Lan, in his book How China Works (2024), has said that “In China, it is impossible to understand the economy without understanding the government.” While the central government in China formulates indicative plans and the overall goals and trajectory for development, implementation of these plans is delegated to local governments. Local governments have a broad remit to interpret these plans, experiment with implementation, and compete with each other for investment. This leads to a much more dynamic and decentralised development process that encourages grassroots participation.

A comparison between China and India on the share of public employment at different levels of government is very revealing. For China, over 60% of public employment is at the level of local government, with federal and state governments comprising less than 40% of employment. In contrast, less than 20% of Indian public employment is in local government. India, therefore, despite its much-touted linguistic federal system, is far more centralised than China. The weakness of Indian local governments remains a significant barrier for its development.

The Role of SOEs

State-owned enterprises (SOEs) are the elephant in the room when it comes to China’s development model. Chinese political scientist Prof. Zheng Yongnian said in 2011 that “the state sector is in fact important for China’s macroeconomic stability.” This is a radically different approach from neoclassical economics, which views macroeconomic policy purely through the lens of fiscal and monetary policy.

Broadly speaking, SOEs in China perform four ‘macroeconomic’ functions. First, they conduct the low-cost production of upstream inputs such as metals, chemicals, and rare earth minerals. Second, they manage essential commodity reserves and intervene in commodity markets to stabilise prices. Third, they engage in countercyclical spending on public works during economic downturns. Fourth, they are deployed to respond during emergencies and external shocks such as the 2008 Sichuan earthquake and the COVID-19 pandemic. The through line in these functions is to keep costs low and smoothen out business and commodity cycles. This is why China has not yet faced a recession comparable to many capitalist economies.

As a consequence of this model, SOEs remain a significantly large part of the Chinese economy in quantitative terms. According to data compiled by the Peterson Institute for International Economics, SOEs accounted for around 75% of the aggregate revenue of Chinese firms in the Fortune 500. While it is true these firms are often not as profitable as the private sector, this is by design, as they pass on low prices to domestic manufacturers.

China has entities such as the State-owned Assets Supervision and Administration Commission of the State Council (SASAC) which facilitate the centralised governance and oversight of SOEs. This model is crucially different from the Temasek model often discussed in Sri Lanka. Under Temasek, SOEs are almost entirely market-oriented and depoliticised. This is not the case in China, where SOEs continue to play crucial social and political functions.

The Role of Competition

What confuses most observers of China is the fact that it very obviously has a fiercely competitive and dynamic private sector. How then to reconcile the preceding elaboration of the role of local government and SOEs with a competitive private sector? Local governments and SOEs provide the basic institutional framework and economic building blocks for the private sector to play its role in capital accumulation and innovation.

The competitive cycle in China could be broadly divided into four phases. In the first phase, incentives created by the central and local governments lead to a flood of investment in desired sectors and sub-sectors, resulting in the establishment of new firms and production capacity. In phase two, these incentives are eased, leading to fierce competition and survival of only the fittest firms. In phase three, once the market has reached a stage resembling monopoly, one of three tactics may be used: 1. Firms are forced to compete internationally and export; 2. monopoly firms are broken up by the state; or 3. monopoly firms are nationalised or brought under stronger state supervision. The system is designed to resist the market’s natural tendency towards monopolisation.

Political Leadership

The Chinese state has an exceptional ability to maintain what political sociologist Peter B. Evans calls ‘embedded autonomy’. It is close enough to the private sector to understand economic conditions and formulate policy but politically independent enough from capital to resist capture by private interests. This is a key difference between China’s development model and the developmentalism of East Asian states such as Japan and South Korea, where large private firms (zaibatsu in the former, chaebols in the latter) dominate political life.

China’s development model cannot be understood in isolation of its leadership system. The Communist Party of China, which has around 100 million members (almost five times the population of Sri Lanka!), has been key to the process of China’s development. The party remains committed to developing Marxist-Leninist philosophy and applying it to the country’s concrete conditions. It retains deep roots in all levels of Chinese society, engaging in consultation during the policymaking process.

To what extent China’s model can be replicated by other countries is an open question. While the CPC has often invited academics and political parties to study its system, this does not equate to the party attempting to export said system. There is no real ‘Beijing consensus’ that is equivalent to the ‘Washington consensus’. On the contrary, President Xi Jinping, in 2023, cautioned that modernisation “cannot be realised by a cookie-cutter approach”.

“For any country to achieve modernisation, it needs not only to follow the general laws governing the process but, more importantly, consider its own national conditions and unique features.”

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

Opinion

Sri Lanka’s Foreign Policy amid Geopolitical Transformations: 1990-2024 – Part IV

Published

21 hours ago

2025/04/10

Sahan Weerasooriya

Sri Lankan Foreign Policy since the End of the Cold War

By the end of the Cold War, Sri Lanka’s foreign policy priorities were predominantly shaped by its armed conflict with the LTTE, despite pivotal shifts in its regional and global geopolitical spaces. The significance of the country’s foreign relations was largely viewed through the lens of its strategic needs in the ongoing civil war, often overshadowing other broader regional and global developments.

The Indo-Sri Lanka Peace Accord of 1987 and the subsequent establishment of the Provincial Council system under the 13th Amendment to the Constitution failed to bring lasting peace and merely perpetuated the vicious cycle of violence. Meanwhile, the uprising (1987-1989) led by the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) and its ruthless suppression deepened the political and social turmoil and tarnished the country’s democratic credentials, further constraining the government’s ability to focus and react to broad external strategic developments. As a result, the critical shifts occurring in South Asia, the Indian Ocean, and the global strategic environment after the Cold War were more or less overlooked in Sri Lanka’s foreign policy decisions.

Following the decisive military defeat of the LTTE in 2009, Sri Lanka underwent a significant shift in its politico-strategic needs, marking the beginning of a new phase in the country’s foreign policy. With the conclusion of the protracted civil war, a different set of issues came to the forefront and decided Sri Lanka’s foreign policy and geopolitical priorities. Accordingly, the evolution of Sri Lanka’s foreign policy in the post-Cold War era can be divided in two distinct phases, with the end of the war in 2009 acting as a pivotal turning point.

Enduring Crises and Foreign Policy

under President Premadasa

When Ranasinghe Premadasa assumed the presidency after a violence-ridden election, Sri Lanka was mired in multi-faceted crises. The Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF), initially deployed to supervise the Peace Accord, quickly found it embroiled in violent conflict with the LTTE in the North. Maneuvering the IPKF’s withdrawal without alienating India became a delicate and daunting challenge. Meanwhile, the brutal suppression of the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) insurgency in the South only deepened the country’s instability and culpability, further intensifying international backlash over human rights violations.

Despite facing significant challenges, Sri Lanka’s foreign policy lacked coherence and strategic direction. The government’s foreign policy responses were often reactive, addressing events in isolation rather than within a broader strategic framework. Decision-making appeared to be driven more by immediate political considerations than by long-term objectives. As a result, Sri Lanka became entrapped in a foreign policy dilemma, struggling to manage multiple crises across various fronts simultaneously.

One of President Ranasinghe Premadasa’s key achievements was persuading/pressuring India to withdraw the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) from Sri Lanka in 1990. However, it also strained Indo-Sri Lanka relations in the short term. One of the key achievements of President Ranasinghe Premadasa was persuading India to withdraw the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) from Sri Lanka. However, this success came at the cost-damaging Indo-Sri Lanka relations.

During a public meeting on June 1, 1989, President Premadasa demanded the complete withdrawal of the IPKF from Sri Lanka by July 29, 1989, giving India just two months’ notice. India was taken aback by the manner in which this demand was made and made it clear that Sri Lanka could not impose a unilateral deadline. India was only prepared for a phased withdrawal and had limited options. In response, India made a misguided decision to train a Tamil National Army.

In an effort to pressure India into withdrawing the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) from Sri Lanka, President Premadasa sought to leverage the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC). In July 1989, Sri Lanka boycotted the SAARC Ministerial-level meeting in Islamabad, Pakistan. Furthermore, Sri Lanka made it clear that it would not host the SAARC Summit scheduled later that year in Colombo. The Sri Lanka informed SAARC countries that the Summit could not precede in Colombo as long as the IPKF remained stationed in the country against its will (RavinathaAryasinha, 1997: 54)

After V.P. Singh of Janata Dal became Prime Minister of India in December 1989, the withdrawal of the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) from Sri Lanka was expedited. In contrast to Rajiv Gandhi’s position, I.K.Gujral, the External Affairs Minister in the Janata Dal government, stated that “Tamil security is an internal matter of Sri Lanka.” He expressed hope that the Sri Lankan government had learned from the lessons of history and would no longer deny the country’s ethnic minorities their due rights (Sunday Times, 29 April 1990).

However, the rescheduled Summit for Colombo in 1990 was ultimately not held there. The Maldives insisted on hosting the summit in Malé, coinciding with the 25th anniversary of it becoming a Republic. The failure of the planned 1990 summit in Colombo also reflects the complex regional dynamics at the time.

After the withdrawal of the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) in 1990, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) swiftly reemerged as a formidable military and political force in the North and East of Sri Lanka, setting the stage for the onset of Eelam War II in June 1990. In the 1990s, parallel to the expansion of Sri Lankan Tamil Diaspora, the LTTE’s international influence grew significantly.

Its front organisations in Western countries became increasingly active, openly fundraising, pressuring host governments on behalf of the LTTE, and even facilitating the transportation of arms and supplies to the conflict zones in Sri Lanka. This growing international network of support posed a substantial challenge to the Sri Lankan government. Moreover, the LTTE frequently framed its actions as a response to alleged human rights violations by the Sri Lankan government, using this narrative to justify its activities and gain international sympathy and support. The complexities of this issue—encompassing both military confrontations and political maneuvering—posed a formidable challenge that required a comprehensive strategy and sharp diplomatic acumen.

The Premadasa administration failed to fully recognise the growing significance of the international public sphere and the increasing prominence of international human rights frameworks. These were often dismissed as instruments of the LTTE’s propaganda. The Sri Lankan government held a largely negative view of Western countries that raised human rights concerns, perceiving these countries as supportive of the LTTE. This perception, coupled with a failure to distinguish between the LTTE and the broader ethnic conflict, impeded the government’s ability to formulate an effective strategy in response to international criticism.

Despite his unconventional approach, President Premadasa recognised that the Foreign Ministry was in disarray, lacking direction amidst the decisive challenges facing the country. In response, he established a Foreign Affairs Study Group, chaired by Dr. Gamani Corea, to address the situation (Dayan Jayatilleka, 2017). The group completed its report on restructuring Sri Lanka’s foreign policy and diplomatic missions, but before it could be presented, President Premadasa was tragically assassinated. Following his death, President Wijetunga, the caretaker president, assumed office but hesitated to take any new initiatives on the matter.

Change Vision and Restructuring under President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga

The efforts to instill a new policy vision and reshape the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) began after the People’s Alliance (PA) assumed power in 1995 under the leadership of President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga. By the time Kumaratunga assumed the presidency, the MFA was in disarray—lacking direction and burdened by excessive politicisation. To address this, President Kumaratunga appointed Lakshman Kadirgamar as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Drawing on his extensive experience as an international civil servant, Kadirgamar implemented reforms to streamline recruitment, promotions, and diplomatic postings, restoring some order to the MFA. At the same time, the government sought to bolster Sri Lanka’s democratic image on the international stage.

Strengthening the country’s credentials as a functional democracy was viewed as essential for garnering global support in addressing the LTTE military challenge. In this context, internal policy reforms were expected to provide strong backing to a foreign policy with a clear vision and direction.

The PA government marked a significant departure from the antagonistic stance of its predecessors towards international human rights bodies. Recognising the growing influence of the global public sphere on national policies, the PA government made a deliberate effort to engage with key international human rights organisations, such as Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the United Nations. These engagements included open dialogues aimed at addressing concerns about Sri Lanka’s human rights situation.

The PA government’s commitment to international human rights standards and norms was demonstrated by its ratification of several major international human rights conventions. Additionally, the PA Government worked to strengthen domestic human rights institutions, particularly the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (HRCSL), further solidifying its dedication to human rights both within Sri Lanka and on the international stage. These efforts were seen as essential for two reasons: promoting domestic reconciliation and enhancing Sri Lanka’s international credibility.

In light of the geopolitical implications of India’s strategic rise and changes in the South Asian geopolitical landscape, developing strong ties with India remained a key achievement of Sri Lanka’s foreign policy under the People’s Alliance (PA) government. After decades of mutual suspicion,

accusations, and tensions, both countries recognised the importance of normalising their relations. President Chandrika Bandaranaike’s new vision and foreign policy approach provided a significant opportunity for a fresh start towards rapprochement. The Indian government’s diplomatic shift, marked by the Gujral Doctrine introduced by External Affairs Minister I. K. Gujral in 1996, further paved the way for improved bi-lateral relations. Indo-Sri Lanka relations had not been as cordial for decades as they were under President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga. A key testament to the South Asian policy of the Kumaratunga administration was the 10th SAARC Summit held in Sri Lanka in 1998. During this summit, informal discussions between India and Pakistan, initiated through the personal efforts of President Kumaratunga, marked a critical development in the regional strategic context.

Under President Premadasa, Sri Lanka’s relations with Western powers, particularly Britain and the United States, began to deteriorate rapidly. For a small country like Sri Lanka, which was grappling with a significant internal armed conflict with international Diaspora linkages, navigating the post-Cold War global strategic landscape became a critical challenge. Nearly two-thirds of Sri Lanka’s export market was tied to the West—primarily Britain, the United States, and the European Union. At the same time, the LTTE’s international headquarters operated from Western capitals. Given this, Sri Lanka paid a steep price for its adversarial stance toward these Western powers. In contrast, one of President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga’s notable achievements was her efforts to foster better relations with the West. By implementing internal democratic reforms and adopting the PA’s approach to the ethnic crisis, she created a more favourable environment for diplomatic engagement. This foreign policy shift paid off: In 1996, the United States resumed arms sales to Sri Lanka, and the US “Green Beret” corps began offering advanced training to the Sri Lankan security forces. This military support included specialized training missions by the US Navy SEALs, the US Air Force Special Operations Squadron, and the US Army’s Psychological Operations Group. The proscription of LTTE as a terrorist organization by the United States in October 1997, followed by similar designations from the United Kingdom in 2000 and Australia in 2001, dealt a severe blow to the LTTE international operations.

The dynamics of the crisis, however, posed significant obstacles to the continued implementation of this policy. Negotiations with the LTTE, which began in October 1994, collapsed on April 17, 1995, when the LTTE withdrew from both the talks and the ceasefire after four rounds of discussions. The hope of achieving a negotiated settlement with the LTTE was dashed within six months. The conflict with the LTTE once again became the central focus of foreign policy, but this time, the government’s
approach shifted from defensive to more assertive.

With the onset of Eelam War III, the government launched the Reviresa operation in November–December 1995 and regained control of Jaffna from the LTTE. In September 1996, the government conducted the Sath Jaya operation, which led to the recapture of Kilinochchi. However, the situation began to change in 1998. The government’s attempt to establish a land route to Jaffna failed, resulting in heavy human and material losses. By late 1998, military camps in Kilinochchi, Mullaitivu, and Elephant Pass fell to the LTTE. Between 1999 and 2000, the Sri Lankan government forces suffered continuous setbacks on the military front.

Similarly, the proposal for the devolution of power, which had been incorporated into a draft of the new constitution, became entangled in political debates with the United National Party (UNP). The country had shown readiness to accept devolution through widespread public awareness campaigns, such as the Sudu Nelum movement. However, when the proposal was only presented to Parliament in August 2000, it was rejected by the UNP. As a result, the People’s Alliance (PA) government was unable to fulfill one of its key political promises to both the Tamil people and the international
community.

In 1999, another attempt was made to resume talks with the LTTE, this time with the prospect of third-party facilitation. President Kumaratunga explored the possibility of securing international involvement, with potential facilitators including France, a joint Commonwealth team, and the Vatican. By March 2000, the Government of Sri Lanka and the LTTE agreed on Norway as the mediator. With Norwegian facilitation, a Ceasefire Agreement was drafted between the Sri Lankan Government and the LTTE, scheduled to be signed on April 11, 2001. However, two days before the signing, the LTTE
unexpectedly declared that they would not proceed with the agreement, without providing any explanation for their decision.

(To be continued)

by Gamini Keerawella

Opinion

Turning Trade Disruptions into Opportunities

Published

2 days ago

2025/04/9

Sahan Weerasooriya

Trump

The silver lining of US tariffs for emerging economies:

In a world that thrives on interconnectedness, the imposition of U.S. tariffs has been widely discussed through the lens of negativity—trade wars, disrupted supply chains, and market turbulence. However, this narrow view fails to account for the opportunities that arise from such disruptions. While it’s easy to focus on the immediate challenges—rising costs, retaliatory measures, and financial volatility—emerging economies, especially those in Asia and South Asia, are beginning to see a silver lining.

The very disruptions caused by U.S. tariffs can open up pathways for growth, innovation, and strategic realignment. Rather than being passive victims of global trade tensions, countries like Sri Lanka can leverage these moments of upheaval as catalysts for economic renewal, stronger international partnerships, and greater resilience in the face of future global shifts. The silver lining of U.S. tariffs, therefore, lies in how emerging economies can transform these challenges into lasting opportunities for economic development and regional integration.

Traditionally seen as a blunt economic tool, tariffs have made a comeback, especially during and after the Trump administration. While much attention has focused on the negative impacts of tariffs—such as trade slowdowns, retaliatory tariffs, and market volatility—this view overlooks some of the potential positive outcomes, especially in the longer term. This article will explore the opportunities created by U.S. tariffs, particularly for emerging economies like Sri Lanka.

What Are Tariffs and Why Are They Imposed?

Tariffs are taxes placed on imported goods, making them more expensive for consumers. The United States has used tariffs as a way to address trade imbalances, protect domestic industries, and assert its influence on the global stage. For example, tariffs on steel and aluminum were meant to safeguard American manufacturing jobs, while tariffs on Chinese goods were part of broader efforts to correct trade deficits with China and challenge unfair trade practices.

The Immediate Consequences

of U.S. Tariffs

When tariffs are imposed, the immediate effects are usually negative for global trade. Countries that rely on exporting to the U.S. face reduced demand for their goods, which can lead to financial losses. Markets may experience increased volatility, stock prices may drop, and inflation could rise, especially in countries dependent on global supply chains.

For instance, countries like China have retaliated with their own tariffs, leading to a “trade war” that has disrupted global supply chains. As a result, businesses face higher costs and reduced profits, which can also affect consumers who pay more for goods.

The Longer-Term Effects: Economic Reshaping

Although tariffs create challenges, they also lead to changes that could benefit certain economies in the long run. For example, trade wars often force countries to rethink their supply chains. In response to U.S. tariffs, many multinational companies started seeking alternatives to China for manufacturing. This shift, known as the “China +1” strategy, has led to countries like Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and India seeing a rise in foreign investment and a growing role in the global supply chain.

Sri Lanka, with its strategic location and competitive labor costs, has become an attractive destination for businesses looking to diversify their production outside of China. Sri Lanka’s exports, such as tea and apparel, have seen increased demand as companies move their operations to places less affected by tariffs. This shift creates opportunities for countries like Sri Lanka to boost their industrial sectors, attract foreign capital, and integrate into regional trade networks.

The Role of Financial Volatility

One of the immediate reactions to tariffs is financial volatility, as global markets try to adjust to the uncertainty caused by trade conflicts. While this often results in market instability, financial volatility can also serve as a catalyst for broader economic reforms. In times of crisis, countries may be forced to improve their fiscal policies, strengthen their institutions, and diversify their economies.

For example, countries in the emerging world may use the pressure from tariffs to undertake structural reforms that make their economies more resilient. They may improve fiscal governance, attract more investment, and create a more diversified and stable economy. Over time, this can reduce their dependence on any single trading partner and help them weather future economic shocks.

Opportunities for Emerging Economies

Although U.S. tariffs present challenges for emerging economies, especially those that depend on exports to the U.S., they also provide opportunities for strategic realignment. With companies looking for alternatives to China, emerging economies can reposition themselves as attractive investment destinations.

Sri Lanka, for instance, has benefited from this shift in the global supply chain. As businesses look for stable alternatives to Chinese manufacturing, Sri Lanka has seen an increase in demand for its exports, such as textiles and tea. Additionally, foreign direct investment (FDI) in Sri Lanka has been growing, with companies looking to set up production facilities in countries that are less affected by tariff measures.

This shift is not just about attracting investment but also about repositioning a country within regional supply chains. Sri Lanka has the potential to become a key player in the Indian Ocean region, connecting Asia with Europe and Africa. By improving infrastructure, such as ports and digital networks, Sri Lanka can better integrate into global value chains and increase its export capacity.

Sri Lanka’s Response

to Global Shifts

For Sri Lanka, the global effects of U.S. tariffs present both a challenge and an opportunity. The country is currently dealing with debt restructuring, fiscal deficits, and economic instability. However, these global disruptions can be leveraged as a platform for domestic renewal.

Sri Lanka’s response to these shifts includes diversifying its export markets. By increasing trade with other regions, such as Southeast Asia, India, and the EU, Sri Lanka can reduce its reliance on any one country or market. Regional trade agreements like the South Asian Free Trade Area (SAFTA) can help strengthen Sri Lanka’s position in the global market and protect it from the volatility of global trade wars.

Additionally, Sri Lanka has used these global shifts as an opportunity to undertake important fiscal reforms. These reforms, including improving fiscal governance and enhancing investor confidence, can help the country become more resilient in the long term. By addressing internal structural issues, Sri Lanka can better navigate global economic shifts and position itself for sustainable growth.

The Role of Technology and Digitalisation

Technology plays an essential role in Sri Lanka’s strategy to capitalise on global economic changes. The digital transformation of industries, driven in part by U.S. tariffs and trade disruptions, opens new avenues for economic development. For example, Sri Lanka’s growing IT sector, combined with advancements in e-commerce and digital infrastructure, allows the country to offer a variety of services to global markets, including financial services, software development, and education.

By investing in digital infrastructure and embracing new technologies like artificial intelligence and automation, Sri Lanka can position itself as a leader in the regional digital economy. This technological upgrade can help Sri Lanka integrate more deeply into global value chains, boosting exports and creating new economic opportunities. Possible benefits from US tariffs include,

Short-Term Benefits

* Diversified Exports: Emerging economies gain market share by offering alternatives to Chinese products.

* Increased Demand: Tariffs on China boost demand for products from other regions.

* Boost in FDI: Countries attract more foreign investments as supply chains shift.

* Lower Competition: Protectionist measures reduce competition for domestic industries.

Medium-Term Benefits

* Industrial Upgrading: Local industries modernise, innovate, and become more productive.

* Policy Reforms: Financial instability prompts improvements in governance and policies.

* Supply Chain Integration: Economies join more resilient and diversified global supply chains.

* Regional Trade: Strengthened trade partnerships with neighbouring countries and regional organisations.

Long-Term Benefits

* Structural Growth: Policy changes create a more resilient and diversified economy.

* Technological Advancements: Focus on innovation positions economies as leaders in new industries.

* Geopolitical Influence: Adaptation to global changes boosts regional and international influence.

* Better Positioning in Global Value Chains: Emerging economies align with evolving global demands, securing a stronger role in global trade.

A Turning Point for Emerging Economies

While U.S. tariffs initially cause economic disruption, they can also serve as a wake-up call for emerging economies like Sri Lanka. By diversifying trade relationships, investing in technology, and undertaking necessary structural reforms, countries can turn these challenges into long-term growth opportunities. The global shifts triggered by U.S. tariffs provide a unique opportunity for countries like Sri Lanka to reinvent their economic models, enhance their resilience, and position themselves as key players in the evolving global economy.

In this era of trade wars and economic realignments, smaller nations no longer need to simply weather the storm. With the right policies, proactive strategies, and a focus on innovation, countries like Sri Lanka can not only survive the disruptions caused by U.S. tariffs but thrive in the new economic landscape.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT University, Malabe. He is also the author of the “Doing Social Research and Publishing Results”, a Springer publication (Singapore), and “Samaja Gaveshakaya (in Sinhala). The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the institution he works for. He can be contacted at saliya.a@slit.lk and www.researcher.com)