Connect with us

Features

Shared Sanctities

Published

on

Book Review

A few weeks ago, I embarked on a long journey from Colombo to Toronto, with a short transit in Doha. It was a long 16-hour journey by air. Though one may say that was “long”, in the good (or bad) old days, such a trip, including crossing the Atlantic would take weeks if not months. However, I carried one book with me, a tradition I keep even when I go on a 10-minute drive. The book that I carried this time was Hasini Haputhanthri’s and Sujeewa de Silva’s Shared Sancties, the revised and enlarged second edition.

With the very many books I have read over the years, especially on this genre of conserving and sharing a common ground for heritage, I found this work a moving and creative masterpiece that needs a closer attention. Hence, this comment or “review,” that would possibly draw upon my understanding of this work and my perspectives of how I see the writer build this much appreciative narrative.

Geopolitically and by history, Sri Lanka, is an island nation that has given abode to people of very many nations of both the Western and Eastern hemisphere. Irrespective of how much the most arduous extremist may want to claim about racial purity, it is beyond any doubt that we are a perfectly mixed set of people that have a shared and common heritage.

For centuries, this land absorbed ideas, faiths, and artistic forms with a confidence modern Sri Lanka struggles to reclaim. What makes this book compelling is not simply its content, but the way Hasini reanimates that forgotten spirit of confluence.

From the very beginning, she anchors her narrative in the history of movement—oceans, islands, and trade routes. Her encounter with the Nestorian Cross at a Buddhist pilgrimage site sets the tone: Sri Lanka’s past is rarely tidy, never strictly defined, and far more entangled than our schoolbooks suggest. In chapters like Greater World: Islands, Oceans and Beyond, she places the island firmly on the maritime highways of the ancient world, illustrating how ships, ideas, and communities shaped our art, architecture, and ritual practices long before the arrival of the Portuguese or the shadow of the British Empire.

One of my favourite extracts from the book is the following: “We never quite realize that the history we learn in school is ‘land-locked’. No one thinks that history ever happened out there at sea. This is possibly because history was held hostage by post-colonial nationalisms, where their scopes was defined by newly drawn ‘national borders’. Oceans were nationalized too, but to a lesser extent than the land. After all, there are no ‘sons of the sea’; only ‘sons of the soil’!”

This is where the book excels: Hasini does not merely describe syncretism; she allows the reader to stand inside it. Nalanda Gedige, that enigmatic fusion of Hindu and Buddhist symbolism, becomes not only a monument but a question—one that challenges our obsessive need to categorize heritage into neat ethnic boxes. Throughout, she nudges us to accept that ambiguity itself is part of our inheritance.

Her exploration of Polonnaruwa in Temple as Museum; Religion as Art is one of the book’s finest sections. The Tivanka Image House, with its Hindu architectural frame sheltering a towering Buddha and 11th-century murals, becomes a living example of artistic and spiritual dialogue. Hasini’s prose here is sharp and almost lyrical, reminding us that the ancient capital was not merely a seat of kings, but a sanctuary shaped by multiple hands and imaginations. This chapter lifts Polonnaruwa out of its familiar postcard frame and restores its true complexity.

While the world knows the calm grandeur of Gal Vihara, Hasini turns our gaze to the island’s deeper layers of confluence—Hindu shrines, South Indian–inspired bronzes, and the evocative Tivanka Image House with its medieval murals. Her storytelling blends archaeology, art history, and memory, reminding us that Polonnaruwa was never a singular Buddhist space, but a sanctuary shaped by movement, borrowing, and imagination. Through her eyes, the city becomes a living museum, where faith, artistry, and cultural inheritance coexist in quiet, powerful harmony.

The chapters set in Kandy extend this idea into the colonial and modern eras. The architectural blend in the Trinity College Chapel, enhanced by David Paynter’s iconic murals, stands beside the Embekke Devale’s mythical carvings—each revealing the layered identities of a kingdom negotiating faith, power, and art. Hasini’s ability to weave these strands across centuries without losing focus is one of her strongest gifts.

A Tale of Two Masjids

is equally evocative. The contrast between Galle’s coastal Jumma Meeran Mosque and the flamboyant Red Masjid in Pettah becomes a meditation on how Islam, too, adapted, absorbed, and reshaped itself within the island’s cosmopolitan spaces. Hasini reminds us that these structures are more than architecture; they are arguments in brick and mortar for coexistence.

The Blonde Behind the Buddha

is a richly textured meditation on Karagampitiya’s layered spiritual world, where colonial memory, Buddhist devotion, and artistic hybridity collide. Moving from art historian Maria Graham’s gaze to the quiet enigmas of the temple’s murals, the chapter beautifully captures how European motifs seeped into a deeply Sinhala-Buddhist universe. The mysterious blonde figure becomes a metaphor for cultural intrusion and adaptation, revealing a faith that survives not by purity, but by transformation.

“City of Gods” is one of the most evocative chapters in Shared Sanctities, stitching together maritime history, sacred geography, and memory with impressive ease. Tenavaram emerges not merely as a ruined shrine on the southern tip of the island, but as a cosmopolitan temple-city where peacocks from Sandesha poetry, merchants from Sumatra, Tamil Brahmins, Sinhala kings and Ming admirals all intersect. Hasini handles maps, Tevaram, chronicles and colonial violence without losing the lyrical, almost cinematic quality of her prose. Especially powerful is the tracing of Tenavaram’s afterlives – from Pancha Ishvaram lore to the blue god Upulvan and the half-forgotten lingam and Nandi that still haunts the site.

The later chapters—the shifting representation of women in temple art—push the narrative into cultural politics. Here, Hasini confronts how colonial morality attempted to tame the female body and how nationalist revivalism reshaped identity, dress, and artistic convention. Her reflections on the transformation from sensuous murals to demure, Victorianised figures are particularly striking and reveal how power quietly negotiates aesthetics.

Ultimately, Shared Sanctities is not just a catalogue of syncretic sites. It is a gentle but firm challenge to monolithic histories. The book urges us to discard the rigid frameworks that have dominated Sri Lankan historical discourse and to embrace a narrative that is layered, porous, and proudly plural. Supported by Sujeewa de Silva’s superb photography and the accompanying documentaries, this volume becomes both an academic resource and a heartfelt tribute to an island that once thrived on openness.

Hasini’s account is both compelling and wonderfully lucid; anyone with even a half-curious mind will find it hard to put this book down once they begin. She writes with a distinctly romantic overtone, yet never loses control of a tightly argued, historically grounded narrative—a balance many would struggle to maintain when dealing with such a wide and complex constellation of syncretic shrines in Sri Lanka. Her prose at times recalls the best of H. W. Cave and William Skeen, those early chroniclers of Ceylon’s landscapes and sanctities, whose work quietly shaped our understanding of the island’s cultural memory.

Her careful use of both well-known and lesser-known sources gives the book real scholarly weight, without ever becoming dry. The visual layer provided by Sujeewa de Silva’s photographs—the murals, façades, statues, and architectural details—is not ornamental but essential. His images do not merely illustrate; they converse with the text, and for a reader less inclined to long passages of prose, they offer an inviting, almost meditative way into the material. His craft deserves very warm praise.

If a third edition is ever contemplated, a closer engagement with Donald Stadtner’s Sacred Sites of Sri Lanka would be valuable, as it offers complementary readings of some of these spaces. But that is a suggestion at the margins. For me, reading Shared Sanctities on an otherwise monotonous, long-haul flight was an unexpected delight. It is a book that should be read by anyone who wishes to grasp the essence of the Sri Lankan story—a story still very much being written.

‘Shared Sanctities’ by Hasini Haputhanthri and Sujeewa de Silva
Second edition, 2025,
Published by the International Centre for Ethnic StudiesSecond

Review by Avishka Mario Senewiratne



Continue Reading
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

Retirement age for judges: Innovation and policy

Published

on

I. The Constitutional Context

Independence of the judiciary is, without question, an essential element of a functioning democracy. In recognition of this, ample provision is made in the highest law of our country, the Constitution, to engender an environment in which the courts are able to fulfil their public responsibility with total acceptance.

As part of this protective apparatus, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal are assured of security of tenure by the provision that “they shall not be removed except by an order of the President made after an address of Parliament supported by a majority of the total number of members of Parliament, (including those not present), has been presented to the President for such removal on the ground of proved misbehaviour or incapacity”[Article 107(2)]. Since this assurance holds good for the entirety of tenure, it follows that the age of retirement should be defined with certainty. This is done by the Constitution itself by the provision that “the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court shall be 65 years and of judges of the Court of Appeal shall be 63 years”[Article 107(5)].

II. A Proposal for Reform

This provision has been in force ever since the commencement of the Constitution. Significant public interest, therefore, has been aroused by the lead story in a newspaper, Anidda of 13 March, that the government is proposing to extend the term of office of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal by a period of two years.

This proposal, if indeed it reflects the thinking of the government, is deeply disturbing from the standpoint of policy, and gives rise to grave consequences. The courts operating at the apex of the judicial structure are called upon to do justice between citizens and also between the state and members of the public. It is an indispensable principle governing the administration of justice that not the slightest shadow of doubt should arise in the public mind regarding the absolute objectivity and impartiality with which the courts approach this task.

What is proposed, if the newspaper report is authentic, is to confer on judges of two particular courts, the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, a substantial benefit or advantage in the form of extension of their years of service. The question is whether the implications of this initiative are healthy for the administration of justice.

III. Governing Considerations of Policy

What is at stake is a principle intuitively identified as a pillar of justice.

Reflecting firm convictions, the legal antecedents reiterate the established position with remarkable emphasis. The classical exposition of the seminal standard is, of course, the pronouncement by Lord Hewart: “It is not merely of some importance, but is of fundamental importance that justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done”. (Rex v. Sussex Justices, ex parte McCarthy). The underlying principle is that perception is no less important than reality. The mere appearance of partiality has been held to vitiate proceedings: Dissanayake v. Kaleel. In particular, reasonableness of apprehension in the mind of the parties to litigation is critical: Ranjit Thakur v. Union of India, a reasonable likelihood of bias being necessarily fatal (Manak Lal v. Prem Chaud Singhvi).

The overriding factor is unshaken public confidence in the judiciary: State of West Bengal v. Shivananda Pathak. The decision must be “demonstrably” (Saleem Marsoof J.) fair. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka has rightly declared: “The authority of the judiciary ultimately depends on the trust reposed in it by the people, which is sustained only when justice is administered in a visibly fair manner”.

Credibility is paramount in this regard. “Justice has to be seen to be believed” (J.B. Morton). Legality of the outcome is not decisive; process is of equal consequence. Judicial decisions, then, must withstand public scrutiny, not merely legal technicality: Mark Fernando J. in the Jana Ghosha case. Conceived as continuing vitality of natural justice principles, these are integral to justice itself: Samarawickrema J. in Fernando v. Attorney General. Institutional integrity depends on eliminating even the appearance of partiality (Mandal Vikas Nigam Ltd. v. Girja Shankar Pant), and “open justice is the cornerstone of our judicial system”: (Sahara India Real Estate Corporation Ltd. v. SEBI).

IV. Practical Constraints

Apart from these compelling considerations of policy, there are practical aspects which call for serious consideration. The effect of the proposal is that, among all judges operating at different levels in the judicature of Sri Lanka, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal only, to the exclusion of all other judges, are singled out as the beneficiaries of the proposal. An inevitable result is that High Court and District Judges and Magistrates will find their avenues of promotion seriously impeded by the unexpected lengthening of the periods of service of currently serving judges in the two apex courts. Consequently, they will be required to retire at a point of time appreciably earlier than they had anticipated to relinquish judicial office because the prospect of promotion to higher courts, entailing higher age limits for retirement, is precipitately withdrawn. Some degree of demotivation, arising from denial of legitimate expectation, is therefore to be expected.

A possible response to this obvious problem is a decision to make the two-year extension applicable to all judicial officers, rather than confining it to judges of the two highest courts. This would solve the problem of disillusionment at lower levels of the judiciary, but other issues, clearly serious in their impact, will naturally arise.

Public service structures, to be equitable and effective, must be founded on principles of non-discrimination in respect of service conditions and related matters. Arbitrary or invidious treatment is destructive of this purpose. In determining the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, some attention has been properly paid to balance and consistency. The age of retirement of a Supreme Court judge is on par with that applicable to university professors and academic staff in the higher education system. They all retire at 65 years. Members of the public service, generally, retire at 60. Medical specialists retire at 63, with the possibility of extension in special circumstances to 65. The age of retirement for High Court Judges is 61, and for Magistrates and District Judges 60. It may be noted that the policy change in 2022 aimed at specifically addressing the issue of uniformity and compatibility.

If, then, an attempt is made to carve out an ad hoc principle strictly limited to judicial officers, not admitting of a self-evident rationale, the question would inevitably arise whether this is fair by other categories of the public service and whether the latter would not entertain a justifiable sense of grievance.

This is not merely a moral or ethical issue relating to motivation and fulfillment within the public service, but it could potentially give rise to critical legal issues. It is certainly arguable that the proposed course of action represents an infringement of the postulate of equality of treatment, and non-discrimination, enshrined in Article 12(1) of the Constitution.

There would, as well, be the awkward situation that this issue, almost certain to be raised, would then have to be adjudicated upon by the Supreme Court, itself the direct and exclusive beneficiary of the impugned measure.

V. Piecemeal Amendment or an Overall Approach?

If innovation on these lines is contemplated, would it not be desirable to take up the issue as part of the new Constitution, which the government has pledged to formulate and enact, rather than as a piecemeal amendment at this moment to the existing Constitution? After all, Chapter XV, dealing with the Judiciary, contains provisions interlinked with other salient features of the Constitution, and an integrated approach would seem preferable.

VI. Conclusion

In sum, then, it is submitted that the proposed change is injurious to the institutional integrity of the judiciary and to the prestige and stature of judges, and that it should not be implemented without full consideration of all the issues involved.

By Professor G. L. Peiris
D. Phil. (Oxford), Ph. D. (Sri Lanka);
Former Minister of Justice, Constitutional Affairs and National Integration;
Quondam Visiting Fellow of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge and London;
Former Vice-Chancellor and Emeritus Professor of Law of the University of Colombo.

Continue Reading

Features

Ranked 134th in Happiness: Rethinking Sri Lanka’s development through happiness, youth wellbeing and resilience

Published

on

In recent years, Sri Lanka has experienced a succession of overlapping challenges that have tested its resilience. Cyclone Ditwah struck Sri Lanka in November last year, significantly disrupting the normal lives of its citizens. The infrastructure damage is much more serious than the tsunami. According to World Bank reports and preliminary estimates, the losses amounted to approximately US$ 4.1 billion, nearly 4 per cent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product. Before taking a break from that, the emerging crisis in the Middle East has once again raised concerns about potential economic repercussions. In particular, those already affected by disasters such as Cyclone Ditwah risk falling “from the frying pan into the fire,” facing multiple hardships simultaneously. Currently, we see fuel prices rising, four-day workweeks, a higher cost of living, increased pressure on household incomes, and a reduction in the overall standard of living for ordinary citizens. It would certainly affect people’s happiness. As human beings, we naturally aspire to live happy and fulfilling lives. At a time when the world is increasingly talking about happiness and wellbeing, the World Happiness Report provides a useful way of looking at how countries are doing. The World Happiness Report discusses global well-being and offers strategies to improve it. The report is produced annually with contributions from the University of Oxford’s Wellbeing Research Centre, Gallup, the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network, and other stakeholders. There are many variables taken into consideration for the index, including the core measure (Cantril Ladder) and six explanatory variables (GDP per Capita ,Social Support,Healthy Life Expectancy,Freedom to Make Life Choices,Generosity,Perceptions of Corruption), with a final comparison.

According to the recently published World Happiness Report 2026, Sri Lanka ranks 134th out of 147 nations. As per the report, this is the first time that Sri Lanka has suffered such a decline. Sri Lanka currently trails behind most of its South Asian neighbours in the happiness index. The World Happiness Report 2026 attributes Sri Lanka’s low ranking (134th) to a combination of persistent economic struggles, social challenges, and modern pressures on younger generations. The 2026 report specifically noted that excessive social media use is a growing factor contributing to declining life satisfaction among young people globally, including in Sri Lanka. This calls for greater vigilance and careful reflection. These concerns should be examined alongside key observations, particularly in the context of education reforms in Sri Lanka, which must look beyond their immediate scope and engage more meaningfully with the country’s future.

In recent years, a series of events has triggered political upheaval in countries such as Nepal, characterised by widespread protests, government collapse, and the emergence of interim administration. Most reports and news outlets described this as “Gen Z protests.” First, we need to understand what Generation Z is and its key attributes. Born between 1997 and 2012, Generation Z represents the first truly “digital native” generation—raised not just with the internet, but immersed in it. Their lives revolve around digital ecosystems: TikTok sets cultural trends, Instagram fuels discovery, YouTube delivers learning, and WhatsApp sustains peer communities. This constant, feed-driven engagement shapes not only how they consume content but how they think, act, and spend. Tech-savvy and socially aware, Gen Z holds brands to a higher standard. For them, authenticity, transparency, and accountability—especially on environmental and ethical issues—aren’t marketing tools; they’re baseline expectations. We can also observe instances of them becoming unnecessarily arrogant in making quick decisions and becoming tools of some harmful anti-social ideological groups. However, we must understand that any generation should have proper education about certain aspects of the normal world, such as respecting others, listening to others, and living well. More interestingly, a global survey by the McKinsey Health Institute, covering 42,083 people across 26 countries, finds that Gen Z reports poorer mental health than older cohorts and is more likely to perceive social media as harmful.

Youth health behaviour in Sri Lanka reveals growing concerns in mental health and wellbeing. Around 18% of youth (here, school-going adolescents aged 13-17) experience depression, 22.4% feel lonely, and 11.9% struggle with sleep due to worry, with issues rising alongside digital exposure. Suicide-related risks are significant, with notable proportions reporting thoughts, plans, and attempts, particularly among females. Bullying remains a significant concern, particularly among males, with cyberbullying emerging as a notable issue. At the same time, substance use is increasing, including tobacco, smokeless tobacco, and e-cigarettes. These trends highlight the urgent need for targeted interventions to support youth mental health, resilience, and healthier behavioural outcomes in Sri Lanka. We need to create a forum in Sri Lanka to keep young people informed about this. Sri Lanka can designate a date (like April 25th) as a National Youth Empowerment Day to strengthen youth mental health and suicide prevention efforts. This should be supported by a comprehensive, multi-sectoral strategy aligned with basic global guidelines. Key priorities include school-based emotional learning, counselling services, and mental health training for teachers and parents. Strengthening data systems, reducing access to harmful means, and promoting responsible media reporting are essential. Empowering families and communities through awareness and digital tools will ensure this day becomes a meaningful national call to action.

As discussed earlier, Sri Lanka must carefully understand and respond to the challenges arising from its ongoing changes. Sri Lanka should establish an immediate task force comprising responsible stakeholders to engage in discussions on ongoing concerns. Recognising that it is not a comprehensive solution, the World Happiness Index can nevertheless act as an important indicator in guiding a paradigm shift in how we approach education and economic development. For a country seeking to reposition itself globally, Sri Lanka must adopt stronger, more effective strategies across multiple sectors. Building a resilient and prosperous future requires sound policymaking and clear strategic direction.

(The writer is a Professor in Management Studies at the Open University of Sri Lanka. You can reach Professor Abeysekera via nabey@ou.ac.lk)

by Prof. Nalin Abeysekera

Continue Reading

Features

Hidden diversity in Sri Lanka’s killifish revealed: New study reshapes understanding of island’s freshwater biodiversity

Published

on

Aplocheilus parvus

A groundbreaking new study led by an international team of scientists, including Sri Lankan researcher Tharindu Ranasinghe, has uncovered striking genetic distinctions in two closely related killifish species—reshaping long-standing assumptions about freshwater biodiversity shared between Sri Lanka and India.

Published recently in Zootaxa, the research brings together leading ichthyologists such as Hiranya Sudasinghe, Madhava Meegaskumbura, Neelesh Dahanukar and Rajeev Raghavan, alongside other regional experts, highlighting a growing South Asian collaboration in biodiversity science.

For decades, scientists debated whether Aplocheilus blockii and Aplocheilus parvus were in fact the same species. But the new genetic analysis confirms they are “distinct, reciprocally monophyletic sister species,” providing long-awaited clarity to their taxonomic identity.

Speaking to The Island, Ranasinghe said the findings underscore the hidden complexity of Sri Lanka’s freshwater ecosystems.

“What appears superficially similar can be genetically very different,” he noted. “Our study shows that even widespread, common-looking species can hold deep evolutionary histories that we are only now beginning to understand.”

A tale of two fishes

The study reveals that Aplocheilus blockii is restricted to peninsular India, while Aplocheilus parvus occurs both in southern India and across Sri Lanka’s lowland wetlands.

Despite their close relationship, the two species show clear genetic separation, with a measurable “genetic gap” distinguishing them. Subtle physical differences—such as the pattern of iridescent scales—also help scientists tell them apart.

Co-author Sudasinghe, who has led several landmark studies on Sri Lankan freshwater fishes, noted that such integrative approaches combining genetics and morphology are redefining taxonomy in the region.

Echoes of ancient land bridges

The findings also shed light on the ancient biogeographic links between Sri Lanka and India.

Scientists believe that during periods of low sea levels in the past, the two landmasses were connected by the now-submerged Palk Isthmus, allowing freshwater species to move between them.

Later, rising seas severed this connection, isolating populations and driving genetic divergence.

“These fishes likely dispersed between India and Sri Lanka when the land bridge existed,” Ranasinghe said. “Subsequent isolation has resulted in the patterns of genetic structure we see today.”

Meegaskumbura emphasised that such patterns are increasingly being observed across multiple freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka, pointing to a shared evolutionary history shaped by geography and climate.

A deeper genetic divide

One of the study’s most striking findings is that Sri Lankan populations of A. parvus are genetically distinct from those in India, with no shared haplotypes between the two regions.

Dahanukar explained that this level of differentiation, despite relatively recent geological separation, highlights how quickly freshwater species can diverge when isolated.

Meanwhile, Raghavan pointed out that these findings reinforce the importance of conserving habitats across both countries, as each region harbours unique genetic diversity.

Implications for conservation

The study carries important implications for conservation, particularly in a country like Sri Lanka where freshwater ecosystems are under increasing pressure from development, pollution, and climate change.

Ranasinghe stressed that understanding genetic diversity is key to protecting species effectively.

“If we treat all populations as identical, we risk losing unique genetic lineages,” he warned. “Conservation planning must recognise these hidden differences.”

Sri Lanka is already recognised as a global biodiversity hotspot, but studies like this suggest that its biological richness may be even greater than previously thought.

A broader scientific shift

The research also contributes to a growing body of work by scientists such as Sudasinghe and Meegaskumbura, challenging traditional assumptions about species distributions in the region.

Earlier studies often assumed that many freshwater fish species were shared uniformly between India and Sri Lanka. However, modern genetic tools are revealing a far more complex picture—one shaped by ancient geography, climatic shifts, and evolutionary processes.

“We are moving from a simplistic view of biodiversity to a much more nuanced understanding,” Ranasinghe said. “And Sri Lanka is proving to be a fascinating natural laboratory for this kind of research.”

Looking ahead

The researchers emphasise that much remains to be explored, with several freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka still poorly understood at the genetic level.

For Sri Lanka, the message is clear: beneath its rivers, tanks, and wetlands lies a largely untapped reservoir of evolutionary history.

As Ranasinghe puts it:

“Every stream could hold a story of millions of years in the making. We are only just beginning to read them.”

By Ifham Nizam

Continue Reading

Trending