Features
Sirisena Cooray: The Image and the Man
First death anniversary
by Tisaranee Gunasekara
“Here I must write, without prearrangement, details.”
Andre Gide (Journal)
“I’m unpacking my library.” So begins Walter Benjamin’s short essay on book collecting, Unpacking my library.
Moving house was something Sirisena Cooray did often, almost a pastime. In the last three decades, he moved back and forth between Colombo, Nawala, Malabe, Katana, and Biyagama. A bed, unassembled and assembled too many times, collapsed as he sat on it, a story his wife, Srimathi Cooray would relate with a twinkle in her eyes.
Every time Sirisena Cooray shifted house, his collection of a few hundred books had to be packed and unpacked, the only aspect of house moving he personally became involved in. They were his books, the mementos of a reading life. The collection varied, from old hardcover books with yellowed crinkly pages and dust jackets mottled with time to new paperbacks he got as birthday gifts. On the wooden shelves of his serial homes Alessandro Manzoni’s classic historiographical novel The Betrothed rubbed sides with Agatha Christie’s The Body in the Library, KPS Menon’s Delhi-Chungking: A travel diary with biographies of Gandhi, Mao and Putin. An eclectic collection, like the owner, fascinating, mystifying, and, ultimately, endearing.
With any public figure, there is a gap, large or small, between the image and the person. In the case of Sirisena Cooray, the gap was a chasm, an endless dark space birthed by prejudice and nourished with lies. That growth happened in tandem with the political rise of the Premadasa-Cooray combine. To hate one was to hate the other. Those who considered Ranasinghe Premadasa murderer-extraordinaire regarded Sirisena Cooray as the enforcer who took care of the nitty-gritty of killing.
To see past that chasm of disinformation, one had to know the man. But all too often, the chasm overshadowed the man, until, for many the public image, a construct of rumours and fears, became the whole, the everything. Books had no place in that creation, only guns; there, the neat handwritten notes Sirisena Cooray made about something he read (either for himself as a future reference or for a few friends) would have been transformed into hit-lists, or secret places where the bodies were buried.
Prejudice could be harder and more dazzling than even diamonds.
What we lose to lies
A secret group of Satanic, paedophilic sex traffickers control the US government and state, finance and media: thus goes the basic tenet of the Q Anon movement, that nebulous American construct of conspiracy maniacs. According to the composite of four recent polls, 16 percent of all Americans, that is 44million people, double the population of Sri Lanka, consider this to be the truth and nothing but the truth.
Humans have a predilection for conspiracy theories. The more extreme the lie, the more convincing it is to some. Think of that 1903 fabrication, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. This supposed plan by Jews for global domination was exposed in 1921 as a fraud created by the Tsarist police. Yet it formed a toxic current that fed into the sea of mass murder that was the Holocaust.
Sirisena Cooray in his book, President Premadasa and I: Our Story, talks about the first murder attributed to him and Ranasinghe Premadasa. When Upali Wijewardene disappeared, it was claimed that his plane crash was engineered by Prime Minister Premadasa. Sirisena Cooray, then high commissioner in Malaysia, was said to have hired a submarine to take the debris away. In a biographical piece on President Premadasa, senior lawyer Jehan Cassim mentioned an even more extreme version of the story; that Sirisena Cooray not just hired that submarine but went in it to ensure that the job was done properly!
The Q Anon movement came into being in a historical time characterised by two tectonic changes, one actual, the other potential, the election of America’s first biracial president and the likely election of America’s first woman president. Until Ranasinghe Premadasa became the prime minister, this upstart from the wrong side of the tracks could be dismissed with a wink and a laugh. Once he became the second citizen and the possibility of a Premadasa Presidency turned real, mockery and sarcasm didn’t suffice.
So the murder tales began. They would reach a fever pitch when Ranasinghe Premadasa broke the glass ceiling of caste to become the second executive president, culminating in one final flight of imagination: that the Premadasa-Cooray combine planned a fake assassination attempt for Ranasinghe Premadasa which Sirisena Cooray turned into reality.
For conspiracy theorists, nothing crazy is alien. In the mid 1990’s the government of Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga would appoint three presidential commissions with the obvious intent of finding the Premadasa-Cooray combine guilty of the deaths of Vijaya Kumaratunga, Lalith Athulathmudali, and General Denzil Kobbekaduwa. The findings of the Athulathmudali Commission would eventually be dismissed by a three-judge bench of the Supreme Court and the entire enterprise end in farce when a star witness told one too many lies and two judges serving on the Kobbekaduwa Commission resigned.
Yet the stories persist. While searching for another article, I came across a reddit page with a question, What Sri Lanka related conspiracy theory do you believe in? The top three mentioned were the deaths Upali Wijewardene, Denzil Kobbekaduwa, Lalith Athulathmudali, and Vijaya Kumaratunga, with Ranasinghe Premadasa being fingered as the mastermind.
Those who believe in absurdities can commit atrocious stupidities, to paraphrase Voltaire. The silly stories about the Premadasa-Cooray murder machine and the tale of the Kelani Cobra both belong in the same spectrum of idiotic irrationality. The willing departure from the world of facts is the reason we are living in a stolen, broken country today.
In the aftermath of Ranasinghe Premadasa’s assassination, defending him was costly, politically and societally. Without Sirisena Cooray, and the Premadasa Centre he founded, the clearing of the Premadasa name would have never happened. Unfortunately, the participatory development model which characterised both the Janasaviya poverty alleviation programme and the second and third phases of the housing programme fared less well. Sirisena Cooray tried to resurrect at least parts of that model by various means, including getting a group of experts in diverse fields to come up with a comprehensive national plan in 1999. His efforts failed. The participatory model was forgotten; handouts became coterminous with progressivism cementing the dependency syndrome, thereby making both a short and a long term contribution of the current crisis.
In a birth anniversary tribute to Sirisena Cooray, career civil servant WD Ailapperuma explained how in 1992, a pilot programme implemented by the Ministry of Housing (with World Bank funds) in Badulla, Ratnapura, and Matara districts used the participatory model to build community water supply and sanitation projects. He also wrote how during Sirisena Cooray’s tenure as housing minister, a solar village was established as a pilot project in Pansiyagama in Kurunegala with Australian assistance. This provided “a simple photovoltaic solar home lighting system to 500 families, supplying a village family’s minimum power requirements – 4-6 lamps, a radio and a small television. With the experience of the pilot project, the Housing Ministry under Sirisena Cooray, embarked in 1991, on a follow-up solar power project…in the lower Uva region, one of the poorest, least developed areas in Sri Lanka. Solar power was provided to rural hospitals and maternity clinics, doctors’ quarters in rural hospitals, rural schools and school laboratories, teachers’ quarters, vocational training centres and most importantly for community water pumping. In addition, midwives were provided with portable solar lanterns to help in their night rounds and deliveries…” This long before Green Energy became a thing.
Post-1994 general election, Janasaviya could have continued with the inherent and operational weaknesses in the investment component addressed, the housing programme, sans Gam Udawa. If the solar pilot project was generalised, instead of increasing reliance on fossil fuel, the petrol-diesel queues of April-August 2022 could have been avoided. Had the development model combining private-public partnership in business with state-people partnership in the provision of basic services survived in an improved version, Sri Lanka would not have fallen behind Bangladesh. Instead, politicians of all stripes got into the habit of distributing roofing sheets and sewing machines. Unreason triumphed, cresting in 2019. The rest we are living through.
Political and Personal
Ranasinghe Premadasa was an original, incapable of being imitated or copied. So too was Sirisena Cooray. One was the visionary leader, the other the pragmatic second-in-command who charted a path from idea to reality. Dreaming was not Sirisena Cooray’s forte; work was. He didn’t like publicity for himself, was not a natural in front of a camera, a non-orator. But being around him when he slowly, painstakingly turned an idea into reality could and did inspire. It was a learning experience in how to get things done, from the mundane to the very big, on time. Always on time.
The Premadasa-Cooray partnership which changed Lankan history would not have survived without their deep personal bond. For Sirisena Cooray, a shared political vision would not have sufficed. An emotional bond was an equal, perhaps a greater, necessity. On two occasions, once at a public meeting in the Sucharitha Hall and again at an organisational discussion in the Premadasa Centre, I heard, with incredulity and bewilderment, Sirisena Cooray telling participants, “Support me only if you love me” (a literal translation). Colombo Central old hands responded to my incomprehension and shock with amused resignation. Nothing new there, I was told, that was the man. It had taken a direct order from President Premadasa to compel candidate Cooray to campaign for himself at the 1989 general election, even then reluctantly and with scant enthusiasm.
The mantle of strongman fitted Sirisena Cooray well so long as Ranasinghe Premadasa was alive. Post-Premadasa, he only played at playing the role, that too occasionally. For his leader-friend, he would move mountains. For himself, a sand castle sufficed. He was committed to the task of clearing Ranasinghe Premadasa’s name. Once that challenge was won to a large degree, political involvement lost its spice. He dabbled in politics because it was a habit and as a way of keeping the connection to Premadasa loyalists alive. He knew he was their last link with their lost leader, and that was a responsibility he never shirked.
Manik de Silva recently recalled how he sent a text to Sirisena Cooray around 2.30 in the morning and got a call back immediately. You couldn’t be the man at Ranasinghe Premadasa’s side without being a very early riser. The habit never left Sirisena Cooray. He once said that those early morning hours were the hardest, when he was up with just memories for company. As he stated at the end of his book, “Today he is gone, and I am alone with my memories. The problem is there are too many memories.”
Sirisena Cooray was neither visionary nor leader. His organisational genius worked only with and for Ranasinghe Premadasa. Yet he reached close to the impossible heights of perfection in two areas. One was as second-in-command to a leader he loved. Second was as a friend, caring and dependable in matters large and small. A kind hearted man, a decent human being.He lost many friends to death, a few to vagaries of life. To those who remained, he too left a weight of memories behind.
In pandemic times, when visits had to be infrequent, I developed the habit of calling Sirisena Cooray every other day. The time was unvarying, between 6 and 6.10 in the evening. Even a minute’s delay was noted and remarked on, a cheery You are late, followed by a chuckle.One year on, some days, as six in the evening nears, I find myself glancing at the clock, until memory returns.
Features
Ethnic-related problems need solutions now
In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.
There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.
But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.
Core Principle
A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.
This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.
Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.
Equal Rights
Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.
The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.
Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.
The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.
Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.
Lose Trust
Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.
The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach
This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education
In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.
Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?
History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms
That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.
Institutional and Structural Gaps
Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.
This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.
Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?
Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.
Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality
Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.
At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:
“When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.
I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.
Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:
“It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”
Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.
Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?
In Conclusion
The following suggestions are put forward:
First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.
Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.
Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Aruni Samarakoon
Features
Smartphones and lyrics stands…
Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.
Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.
Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.
Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!
In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.
They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days
The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!
When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.
Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.
AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!
AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.
In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!
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