By Anura Gunasekera

On December 3, 2021, then member of parliament, Anura Kumara Dissanayake, today the President of Sri Lanka, made an impassioned speech in the House, against the killing of suspects in police custody, allegedly on the grounds of self-defence. He compared the spate of such incidents to the repeated enactment of the same brutal theatre (“Natakaya”), the word being used with a grim irony.

The following writing is framed in the above context, and, also, in the expectation of what President AKD will soon be compelled to state, in the context of the first of such deaths under his watch, and in the fervent hope that it will also be the last.

TIMES On Line- Sunday Feb 23^, 2025 – ” Police shot dead two suspects arrested over a murder in Kotahena when they reportedly tried to grab a weapon of a policeman and escape. One policeman was also injured in the shootout. Police claimed the two suspects had been taken to show the location of a weapon hidden by them”

Remove the identification of the location (“Kotahena”) and the balance narrative will correspond with all previous killings of suspects in police custody, elevated to an art form under the Mahinda-Gotabaya Rajapaksa dispensation. The rationale had become a “cut-and-paste” exercise. Each such incident has been followed by a legal inquiry but the writer is unaware of any action instituted against police officers involved, for either negligence, use of excessive force, irregularities in the modus operandi – which is governed by strict departmental guidelines- or for the inability of the police to establish their bona-fides for their conduct.

The absence of any censure or punitive action suggests that the judiciary itself has confirmed the legality of the killings. In a country where a de-facto moratorium on legally ordered executions has been in force since 1976, executions have been regularly carried out by various arms of the State, as well as by para-military cohorts sponsored by the State.

Custodial deaths have become so common in Sri Lanka that they have become a mere statistic. According to the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (HRCSL), during the period January 2020 to August 2023, there have been 24 custodial deaths and 13 encounter deaths, all involving the Sri Lanka Police; nothing new, if one reverts to the deaths whilst in police custody, in 1966, of Sgt Thilakawardane and L.V. Podiappuhamy (“Dodampe Mudalali”), eventually ruled at a magistrate’s inquiry as murder. The private plaint against the police was later withdrawn by Attorney General A.C.M. Ameer, then considered a high-profile political appointee.

However, it is not the numbers that count but its corrosive, intimidatory impact on civil society and the message of vulnerability that such killings send to the politically unconnected, as well as their impact on the political discourse and the country’s global image. Custodial murder only weakens existing judicial systems, eroding the credibility and relevance of the systems and of law-enforcement. That extra-judicial executions have zero impact on criminals and criminality, is evident from the continuing flourishing of crime.

There is another critical aspect to custodial deaths, especially of those who are patently guilty or with proven histories of crime. Successful criminals do not operate alone, in a social vacuum. Organized crime, irrespective of the country, exists and flourishes because of the nexus between the criminal, segments of civil society, unscrupulous politicians, clever lawyers and, in particular, corrupt law-officers and crooked businessmen and financiers. Thus, the summary elimination of the suspect eliminates the vital link between the crime, the criminal and its patrons. Unless the investigative arm of the law is able to reach back to its roots, crime will continue to thrive despite the killing of criminals.

The elimination of an alleged criminal before he/she is processed by the justice system, also stops the vehicle of justice in its tracks. Therefore, it is logical to assume that the primary purpose of an extra-judicial killing is to prevent the exposure of the connectivity between the criminal and his/her patrons, rather than the misdirected zeal to circumvent the cumbersome judicial mechanism and instead, deliver instant justice.

SSP Buddhika Manatunge, current police spokesman, appearing before TV, displaying the same bland detachment of his predecessors, in measured tones briefly described the latest event. But what is required is not a soothing commentary but a comprehensive, objective investigation of the incident, followed by an impartial judgment which will ensure that the dead suspects receive the justice denied to them, by the brutal interruption to due process.

The nexus between organized crime, known criminals, law-enforcement and the political body has always existed but was institutionalized by the JR Jayawardene (JRJ) government (1977- 1994), and openly fostered by every government which followed, with the exception of the current regime. A few of the most notorious merit mention.

Sunil Perera(“Gonawela Sunil”) murderer, thief and convicted rapist, released on a presidential pardon by JRJ, and hugely empowered, thereafter, including an All Island JP-ship (subsequently connected to Ranil Wickremasinghe); Arambewelage Don Upali Ranjith ( “Soththi Upali”) , known mobster and alleged murderer, through patronage from the Ranasinghe Premadasa- Sirisena Cooray duo, appointed a reserve Sub-inspector and UNP committee member; Dhammika Amarasinghe, alleged murderer and bank robber, reportedly associated with a former MP and businessman and ex-MP Lohan Ratwatte; Dhanushka Perera (“Beddegana Sanjiva”), alleged assassin and arsonist, attached to the Presidential Security Unit during Chandrika Kumaratunge’s tenure; K.Saman Kumara( “Wambotta”), known murderer and extortionist, closely associated with the Rajapaksa project for many years; Gamage Amarasiri (“Julampitiye Amare”), a loyal Rajapaksa enforcer till being sentenced to death for multiple murder; Lal Peiris, (“Kudu Lal”), alleged drug dealer of the Kelaniya area and Rajapaksa associate (appointed a JP despite background) was provided safe conduct to the Katunayake airport a decade ago, allegedly by former MP, Mervyn Silva, when it had become too embarrassing to support him.

A feature of the career progression of individual mobsters is the fluctuation of fortunes, depending on the party in power; scum does not always stay settled at the bottom. Empowered by politicians in power, they become wealthy and influential and are assisted to invest illegally acquired wealth in legal businesses. Some, like “Soththi Upali” and “Gonawela Sunil”, were enriched by government contracts. The bond between powerful criminals and ruling politicians has been unbreakable.

Not surprisingly, Gotabaya Rajapaksa, during his long tenure as Defence Secretary -with the Tri-Forces at his beck and call- did not need the assistance of underworld thugs for any of his projects.

Relevant to this writing is the murder, on February 19, in the Hulftsdorp Magistrate court No 5, of Sanjeewa Kumara Samararatne (“Ganemulla Sanjeewa”), suspect in a series of crimes, including drug-trafficking, extortion, illegal arms trafficking and murder; this is not the first instance of its kind but does not in any way mitigate the unforgivable security breach, which permitted the assassination. Some analysts, describing certain features of the incident and the fact that there had been prior intelligence on the possibility of such an attempt, are suggesting complicity of the security forces. In any event, two police officers have been arrested in connection with the murder.

Similarly, two police officers have been arrested in connection with the murder- along with two of his children- in Middeniya, on February 18, of ” Kajja” (Aruna Vidanagamage), a known criminal and a self-confessed Rajapaksa enforcer. It will be recalled that interviewed by TV journalist Chamuditha Samarawickrema, on Nov. 28, 2023 and February 11, 2024 respectively, “Kajja” made some startling revelations and allegations against the Rajapaksa political clan, suggesting that in view of his intimate knowledge of family’s alleged illegal activities, his silence would be worth much to the peace of mind of that family.

Ex- Senior DIG Lalith Jayasinghe has been sentenced to four years RI, for facilitating the escape of the chief suspect in the gang rape and murder of 18- year old schoolgirl, Sivalokanathan Vidhya , in Punkuduthivu, Jaffna, in 2015. That was the second instance in which Jayasinghe was found guilty of aiding and abetting a known criminal. Sub-inspector Sri Gajan was sentenced along with Jayasinghe.

Late Anura Senanayke, DIG, was closely implicated in the cover-up operation of the May 17, 2012, Wasim Thajudeen murder, yet unsolved. DIG Vass Gunawardena and his son Shiyam were sentenced to death, for the murder of businessman Shiyam Mohammed ( May 2013), for a Rs 10 million fee.

The above examples represent just the tip of the iceberg, that is the body of evil constituting the law, politics and administration in this country, that has been growing exponentially since 1977.

President AKD has vowed to cleanse the country of crime and corruption. Unlike many of his predecessors, who made similar promises to the nation but, once in power, proceeded to harness those very forces for their purposes, there is absolutely no doubt about his sincerity. But the nexus between criminal enterprises, the police and politicians-past and present- (the NPP exempted), runs deep and wide. The systemic corruption, which involves every segment of the public service, is equally ramified.

The powerful NPP government cannot be dismantled by the Opposition within the House. Its Achilles heel is the entrenched, all-encompassing venality, and the resistance of all those who have profited during those decades of corruption, to any attempt to cleanse it. Unless AKD is able to systematically, but very quickly, excise the evil elements, he will not be able to deliver on many of his promises to the nation. And we say yet again, the patience of the majority is running out and recent happenings have provided grist for the opposition mill, who have no viable alternative to offer the nation, except the NPP regime’s failure to deliver on promises.

Given the known connections between crime and some opposition politicians – in Parliament and outside- it is certain that they will actively contribute to, or catalyze events designed to discredit the government. The present regime needs to be mindful, at all times, that its unscrupulous, corrupt predecessors, especially those facing the possibility of long jail-time at the conclusion of ongoing investigations, will use every possible strategy to derail and destabilize the government.

The Rajapaksa-led, SLPP vanguard with prince Namal as its standard bearer, who desperately needs real political power if he is to retain civic liberty, is already the focal point of this movement, assisted by racists like Udaya Gammanpila, Wimal Weerawansa and Sarath Weerasekera. The JVP-NPP rose from 3.48% to 61.56% in four years. Given a stagnant economy, shortages of essentials, and successful hate-mongering against an ethnic or religious minority- the Rajapaksa political weapon of choice- a revival of the SLPP from its present 3.14%, cannot be discounted.

(Excerpted from Memories of 33 year in Parliament by Nihal Seneviratne)

Even though my early ambition was to join the Sri Lanka Foreign Service and travel the world, I did not miss out by joining Parliament as it gave me many opportunities to travel to many countries and meet with important global leaders, interact closely with my contemporaries in other parliamen his clothests and go overseas for numerous conferences and training programs.

As Secretary to over 30 Parliamentary delegations, I was mostly a baggage boy, looking after the members of the delegation. I must add that this was no easy task. I recall one of our members of an Inter-Parliamentary Union delegations in a faraway Scandinavian country coming to see me with what he called “a huge problem.”

He had an hour long telephone call to his spouse in Sri Lanka. He told me she had been in a delicate state of health and he needed to speak to her. He had then been hit with a telephone bill amounting to over 100 Euros. He wanted me to settle this bill.

I then very gently reminded him that at the start of the trip, I had very politely told all delegates that any personal overseas telephone calls would be on their own accounts. He wanted me to speak to our ambassador in that country and ask him to foot the bill which I politely refused to do. He finally had to pay the bill himself.

Another problem arose when just before an official dinner, the delegation was asked to dress up to meet some foreign Members of Parliament for a drink. I had asked the delegates to dress smartly and come to the lobby of the hotel by 8 p.m. One parliamentarian turned up in a pajama coat and sarong and asked me “Am I not properly dressed?” I was totally taken aback and approached my close friend from school days, MP Mangala Moonasinghe, and asked him to tactfully get his colleague to change his clothes.

Another incident, again involving Mangala Moonesinghe was when in the Soviet Union as guest of the USSR Government, both of us were enjoying a coffee in the lounge when two or three Russian ladies joined our table. A few minutes later, four well-suited Russians approached the ladies and whispered something in their ears. The ladies immediately vanished from the table. Later, we were told that they had been shooed off by KGB agents. There ended sadly Mangala’s and my friendly chat with the Russian ladies.

Apart from these, I had the great opportunity to meet well-known world leaders. Among these I recall vividly meeting with Fidel Castro himself in Havana. We were part of a Sri Lanka Parliamentary Delegation attending the Inter-Parliamentary Union Conference hosted by Cuba and were welcomed at the entrance to the meeting place by Castro himself, He gave each of us a bear hug saying “I love your country and your President. He sends me your good tea and I send him our cigars.”

My only regret is I do not have a photograph of being hugged by Castro. A visit to the Copacabana Club which had earlier been a renowned night club was located in a garden with towering trees and what was memorable was the sight of dancers come down from the trees on ropes to entertain the guests.

Another remarkable occasion was in Peking, China, where the Sri Lankan delegation led by Speaker Hugh Fernando were hosted to a 15-course banquet where we were introduced to China’s leader Mao Tse-tung. The other Chinese leaders who greeted us included Prime Minister Zhou En Lai and leading figures in the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) including Sun Yat-sen’s widow Madam Soong Ch’ing-ling, Deng Xiaoping and Liu Shaoqi.

At a meeting with Zhou En Lai, where Sri Lankan Ambassador S.F. de Silva was also present, Zhou talked about the Sino-Indian border and the Silk Route used by the Chinese which was a delicate issue between China and India. He explained how the Chinese had a historical right over this route and added “Ask your own Ambassador, he is a good historian, and he knows all about it.” We all felt immensely proud of the compliment paid by the Prime Minister himself to our Ambassador. I had a personal relationship with him as his son Artie was a very close friend of mine at College and he said he was happy to meet one of his son’s friends.

The Chinese Prime Minister had been well aware that Sri Lanka and India had some delicate issues to settle ourselves and took this opportunity to give us the Chinese point of view.

There was another meeting that was truly historic. It was the only time I had set out on a journey without knowing the final destination. It was on a visit to North Korea with a delegation headed by Speaker Stanley Tillakaratne. In Pyongyang one evening, the entire delegation was asked to pack our clothes for two nights, taken out of the hotel and bundled off to a Railway Station with no idea where we were headed.

The North Korean staff accompanying us refused to divulge details of the trip. With their not being fluent in English, we were also unable to ask too many questions. We left around 6.00 p.m. and by 6 a.m. the next morning, we reached the station where we detrained and from there, we were again driven by limousine on a two-hour ride through mountainous areas to finally reach a high-altitude resort.

All this time we were unaware of where we were being taken, our communication with the North Koreans limited due to the language barrier. Finally, we arrived at a palatial building and were all escorted to a waiting room. We sat for over 45 minutes during which time we were served breakfast. All of a sudden, all the doors opened and in walked the North Korean leader Kim Il Sung, surrounded by a tight circle of security guards.

He welcomed all of us, chatted through an interpreted about our two countries. After that meeting, he invited us all to lunch with him at the end of which he presented each of us with an ornamental statue and books on North Korea.

On different Parliamentary visits, I had the honour of being introduced to the Queen Mother who graced the Isle of Man Commonwealth Parliamentary Conference. I also had the opportunity of meeting Mrs. Sonia Gandhi when visiting the with Anura Bandaranaike and was introduced to Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi when New Delhi hosted a Commonwealth Parliamentary Conference.

Other tours included a visit to the Bundestag in Germany with Dr. N.M. Perera, on the invitation extended by the German Parliament. There was also a visit to the Parliament in Canberra, the only Parliament I have seen with a swimming pool for MPs. I also had the privilege of visiting Parliament of Pakistan in Islamabad during which we were taken over the Khyber Pass to Kabul.

Another opportunity was visiting Parliament in Ottawa, Canada where we met Pierre Elliott Trudeau, father of the present Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. During the visit to the Parliament in Zambia, we had the good fortune of being introduced to Kenneth Kaunda, who with a white handkerchief in between his fingers, proudly declared the country’s motto, “One Zambia, One Nation.” Another meeting was with President of the Philippines Ferdinand Marcos.

Some of the other memorable visits to foreign legislatures included visiting the Nepalese Parliament in the capital city Kathmandu; the National Assembly in Paris, France; and the Russian Parliament or the State Duma in Moscow, Russia.

Some Premadasa anecdotes

Ranasinghe Premadasa, from his early days as a MP was a keen learner and was someone who sought advice when he needed it. I recall when he first came to parliament in the early sixties, he walked into my room and told me, “Nihal, I didn’t know anything about parliamentary procedure. Can you tell me?”

Given his quick knack for learning, he grew to be an excellent parliamentarian serving in important parliamentary positions such as Leader of the House and Chief Government Whip. Despite our close personal relationship, I maintained my independence and was firm in my dealings on official matters and avoided over familiarity given that it could prejudice me where my work was concerned. He respected my position and accepted it.

One evening Prime Minister Premadasa summoned me to his Chambers in the Parliament building. He then told me that with immense difficulty he had been able to get a Tamil MP to Colombo at the height of the insurrection and wanted him to take oaths as a Member of Parliament that same day around 2 p.m.

I told him that it was impossible for him to take oaths the same day as Standing Orders had specifically prescribed that the administration of oaths to new MPs must be at the start of the daily sessions. He insisted that this be done as the Member had to go back to Jaffna the next day. I told him that I cannot do it, adding that if I accede to his request, not only will I get into a serious trouble in Parliament when an MP raises a Point of Order, but that he too would have to answer for not following the rules.

I added that if he had told me a day earlier, I would certainly have helped him, but not at that time. Mr. Premadasa raised his voice with me, which I had not experienced before, and said it must be done but I replied with a firm “No”. He finally agreed with my position and withdrew his request and I left his room.

On another occasion, he said he wanted to see me on a holiday in the Parliament building at 11.00 a.m. When I arrived, it was 11.03 a.m. and he remarked, “You are late”. I apologized saying traffic held me up. Thereafter, I learned to be sharp on time always. Yet another occasion he wanted me to see him, I politely told him that I will not be able to see him at the time he requested as I was due to see the doctor in hospital since my young daughter was hospitalized and said I will see him a little later. He agreed.

When I visited Shanika, my daughter at Durdans Hospital, she was in a state of surprise as the Prime Minister had found out where she was and sent her a bouquet of flowers, wishing a speedy recovery. I saw to it that my daughter soon after leaving hospital sent him a thank you note.

Early morning calls from him were usual. On one occasion, he called me around 5.00 a.m. soon after reading that morning’s “Lankadeepa” newspaper which carried a scathing article on the administration of Parliament. He said he wanted to see a reply by 10.00 a.m. the same day. In my sarong, I rushed out of home and walked to the nearby junction to get a copy of that day’s paper. By 8.30 a.m. I was in Parliament and by 9.30 a.m. a typed four-page note was hand delivered to him answering all the queries raised. He later rang and thanked me and said there was no issue.

On another occasion, there were very heavy torrential showers and the driveway leading to the Parliament building was completely covered by water and to my horror I found that the rains had inundated the building and even flooded the ground floor. The House was due to sit the next day on some urgent business.

Mr. Premadasa rang me and said it was imperative that the MPs attend the next day’s sittings and that I had to ensure that they all could attend. He then offered me help with the Navy, Police and Disaster Management Centre and said whatever else I needed, I should ask him, and it will be made available.

My staff of 800, headed by the Sergeant-at-Arms and Director Administration rallied round me and worked tirelessly throughout the night with the Armed Forces flushing the water out and by 10.00 a.m. next morning, Members attended, and the House sat as usual for its business.

I had known Mr. Premadasa’s passion and dedication for his projects like the village reawakening program or Gam Udawa. Each time such an event was held usually coincided with his birthdays and I used to have at least five or six messages and invitations to attend these events with the prime minister asking me to see the model Parliament building he had got constructed at each Gam Udawa site.

Since these events tend to have a political flavour, I was reluctant to attend. But after those many calls, I approached the Deputy Speaker Norman Waidyaratne, (MP for Balapitiya) and inquired if he was attending. I had become quite close to him and his family and we often chatted about the country and ourselves and he promptly answered, “Nihal, we can go together, and we can share a room at the Rest House.”

I agreed and felt accompanying the Deputy Speaker would ‘sanitize’ my visit. We were received by Mr. Premadasa who, proudly showed us the miniature model Parliament he had got constructed, never failing to add, “Nihal, this building will serve a better purpose for the village people than your building”. Mr. Waidyaratna and I returned to the rest house for a chat before returning in his car to Colombo – an outing which we both enjoyed very much.

Another small incident I recall relating to Mr. Premadasa. He used to park his Morris Minor car (I distinctly remember its EN 1925 registration number) under the steps of the old Parliament and I had to request him to move his car out as we had reserved that place for the Speaker’s car. He was very obliging and did so with no fuss.

A brief word about Mrs. Hema Premadasa. When I was in office one day, I received a call from Mrs. Premadasa inquiring about some item of parliamentary business to which I gave a ready reply. She immediately realized that I was having a very bad sore throat and cough while talking with her. She inquired what was wrong and I told her I wsn’t feeling well.

She then said “I will send you something that will be good for you. The very next morning, one of her security personnel came into my room, saluted, and handed me a parcel of ambul (sour) oranges and a cough syrup she had wanted handed over to me with instructions to take it twice a day without fail. I was quite touched by her concern and immediately phoned to thank her.

By Avishka Mario Senewiratne,
Editor of The Ceylon Journal

Last December, Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha released a new book titled Ranil Wickremesinghe and the Emasculation of the United National Party. As the title suggests, the book tackles a contentious and provocative topic and may not be an easy read for everyone. Nevertheless, it presents a highly engaging and insightful narrative that warrants close attention. While much of the information may not be entirely new, the context and storytelling offer fresh perspectives and raise critical questions about Sri Lanka’s recent history.

The book is structured into four accessible chapters, with the first, titled “The Lost Generations of the UNP,” piquing interest by exploring important aspects of the party’s history that have often been overlooked. This article should be seen as a preliminary commentary on the first chapter. The chapter itself presents a series of short biographical sketches, focusing mainly on the political journeys of key figures within the United National Party (UNP), and how their careers were shaped by events such as assassination, early retirement, party defection, or resignation. However, the chapter could have been greatly improved with a brief historical overview of the UNP as an introduction. Founded in 1947, the UNP has often been referred to as the “Grand Old Party of Sri Lanka.” While it won the 1947 and 1952 elections, the party reached its lowest point in 1956, securing just eight seats in Parliament. In the 1950s, the UNP earned the nickname “Uncle Nephew Party,” a reference to the party’s perceived nepotism. Nevertheless, the UNP made notable comebacks in 1960 and again in 1965, after being in opposition from 1956 to 1965, except for the brief period between the March and July elections of 1960. In 1970, despite securing the plurality of the popular vote in the General Election, the UNP ended up with only 17 seats, leading Dudley Senanayake, the Prime Minister at the time, to take a backseat in the Opposition. This allowed J. R. Jayewardene to take control of the opposition, with Senanayake remaining the UNP leader.

After Dudley’s sudden death in 1973, Jayewardene assumed leadership of the party. In 1977, the UNP won a historic victory, securing a five sixths super majority in Parliament, reducing the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) to just eight seats, and leaving the Leftist parties without representation. Under J. R. Jayewardene’s leadership, several skilled and effective politicians joined the Cabinet, which has been widely regarded as one of the most efficient in post-colonial Sri Lanka, particularly in managing the economy, fostering development, and strengthening foreign relations.

JR and Dudley, 1965

However, the Cabinet faced significant criticism for its handling of the ethnic conflict, which eventually led to a 26-year civil war. This issue has remained a central point of debate, overshadowing the Cabinet’s achievements. Between 1970 and 1977, the UNP lost some of its most well-known and renowned leaders such as Dudley Senanayake, M. D. Banda, U. B. Wanninayake, I. M. R. A. Iriyagolla, Paris Perera and V. A. Sugathadasa. C. P. de Silva, Philip Gunawardena, Murugesu Tiruchelvam Q. C. though not UNPers, but serving in the previous UNP regime’s Cabinet, passed away in the said period. Though elected in 1977, S. de S. Jayasinghe and Shelton Jayasinghe passed away within a year of the new government.

This left the UNP with a dominant senior member, J. R. Jayewardene, who was elected Prime Minister and then with the new Constitution, became the Executive President. There were hardly any other senior UNPers apart from Montague Jayawickrema, Edwin Hurulle and M. D. H. Jayawardene. Essentially, there was little internal opposition within the UNP to J. R. Jayewardene’s actions regarding the creation of a new constitution, the establishment of the executive presidency, the events surrounding the referendum and the many troubles of the 80s. The few who voiced dissent on these matters—M. D. H. Jayawardene and Dr. Neville Fernando—were compelled to resign from their positions well before the end of their terms.

In this context, a new generation of politicians entered the UNP cabinet, bringing with them a blend of backgrounds and political experiences. Several key members of this cabinet are discussed in detail in Wijesinha’s first chapter on the “lost generation.” The 1977/78 UNP cabinets were notably diverse, with some members having roots in the SLFP, such as Gamini Dissanayake whose father had been a prominent SLFPer. Gamini himself first attempted to contest as a SLFPer in 1970. But upon his failing to get that that party’s ticket, he contested and won under the UNP. Ronnie de Mel, who had been aligned with the SLFP until 1975, was also a significant figure in this cabinet.

R. Premadasa, the Prime Minister, came from the Labour Party. The cabinet also included seasoned UNPer Wimala Kannangara, the only woman member, and Bill Devanayagam, the only Tamil representative, along with Shahul Hameed and M. H. Mohamed, the Muslim members. All four were entrusted with influential portfolios. Then there were newcomers to politics such as Nissanka Wijeyeratne, formerly of the Ceylon Civil Service who had fallen out with Mrs. Bandaranaike, and Lalith Athulathmudali, who had a flourishing legal practice.

Ronnie de Mel with Gamini Dissanayake and Upali Wijeywardene

The cabinet comprised a mix of old-fashioned UNPers, such as Maj. Montague Jayawickrema, Edwin Hurulle, E. L. Senanayake, Vincent Perera and Capt. C. P. J. Senewiratne, alongside more moderate figures like Anandatissa de Alwis, D. B. Wijetunga, Asoka Karunaratne, Gamini Jayasuriya, Ranjith Atapattu, and S. B. Herath. Cyril Mathew and Wijeyapala Mendis, more controversial figures, did not clearly fit into either category. Ranil Wickremasinghe, J. R. Jayewardene’s trusted nephew, remains today the sole surviving and active member of this Cabinet. Outside Parliament, Upali Wijewardena, who was speculated to enter both Parliament and the Cabinet before his disappearance in 1983, was another prominent figure. Abdul Bakeer Marker was made Speaker and later when E. L. Senanayke succeeded him, he became a Minister without a Portfolio. Though not a UNPer, S. Thondaman who was loyal to JR, found a Cabinet position as well.

Thus, JR Jayewardene’s cabinet was notably diverse, comprising individuals from varied political backgrounds, affiliations and experiences. As Wijesinha aptly notes, many of these figures were determined to pursue long political careers, with some even considered potential candidates for the presidency of Sri Lanka. What is particularly intriguing to the reader of Wijesinha’s first chapter are the significant, yet lesser-known aspects of the individuals discussed. It is questionable whether any political scientist, journalist, or historian has explored the perspectives and angles that Wijesinha addresses. Limited attention has been given to the ten individuals featured, including President Premadasa, whose biographies are often characterized by a somewhat romanticized portrayal or a hyper-critical portrait rather than a thorough, critical analysis.

Objectively speaking, all these individuals played vital roles in shaping modern Sri Lanka despite all controversy. Scholars should follow Wijesinha’s approach by critically examining and analyzing their subjects individually or collectively. Premadasa’s rise, first as Minister under Dudley Senanayake and later as Prime Minister under JR, is well-documented. Wijesinha concurs that Premadasa, with his appeal to the common man and success in programs like Gam Udawa, was the ideal candidate to succeed JR. Despite the challenges of the Civil War, the JVP insurrection, and internal party controversies, Premadasa oversaw significant economic growth. His assassination in 1993, just before his term’s end, curtailed his full potential.

JR’s Cabinet by Younus, Aththa 1980 March 19

One of the notable revelations in Wijesinha’s book, though not entirely undisclosed, is the power struggle among three prominent figures: Ronnie de Mel, Lalith Athulathmudali, and Upali Wijewardene. The former two were regarded as the most intellectually formidable members of J. R. Jayewardene’s Cabinet, and their rivalry was marked by intense animosity over policy matters and political positioning. Meanwhile, Upali Wijewardene, perceived as among the wealthiest individuals in the country at the time, was poised to enter the political arena. Ronnie de Mel achieved a significant milestone by balancing the national budget for eleven consecutive years, demonstrating a level of fiscal management unmatched by his predecessors or successors.

However, at the end of JR’s presidency, de Mel grew disillusioned with Ranasinghe Premadasa’s leadership and subsequently left the country. Although he returned to the legislature and remained politically active until 2004, he never recaptured the influence he once held under JR. Furthermore, JR’s most loyal confidante, Gamini Dissanayake, as noted by Wijesinha, initially expressed dissatisfaction with his assigned portfolio of “Irrigation, Power, and Highways.” Wijesinha’s father, Sam Wijesinha, who was then the Secretary General of the Parliament explained to the young Gamini the importance of his ministry that had been previously served by stalwarts like D. S., Dudley, Maithripala Senanayake and C. P. de Silva. Later, Gamini played a key role in implementing the Accelerated Mahaweli Development Project and in advancing Sri Lanka’s Test cricket status. Wijesinha also highlights Gamini’s presence in Jaffna in 1981 during the burning of the library, noting his subsequent shift toward a more moderate stance.

Lalith Athulathmudali, who held significant government portfolios, including Shipping and Trade and, later, National Security during the onset of the civil conflict, was regarded as one of the most respected politicians of his era. Wijesinghe notes that Lalith, an admirer of Singapore’s development, played a pivotal role in transforming the Colombo Port into one of the most efficient in Asia. Alongside Gamini Dissanayake, Lalith gained substantial popularity during the late 1970s and 1980s, fueling their aspirations for future presidential roles. By the end of 1988, however, it became evident that Premadasa was the leading contender to succeed JR. Both Lalith and Gamini supported Premadasa’s 1988 presidential campaign and hoping that one of them would be appointed Prime Minister in his administration. Instead, Premadasa appointed D. B. Wijetunga, causing significant discord within the UNP.

By 1991, escalating internal tensions led Lalith, Gamini, and other UNP backbenchers, in collaboration with the SLFP, to attempt to impeach President Premadasa. This effort ultimately failed, resulting in their exit from Parliament. Lalith and Gamini then created their own party. Tragically, Lalith was assassinated shortly before Premadasa, and Gamini (who had returned to the UNP) had a similar fate in 1994, just weeks before the presidential election in which he was the UNP’s candidate. Their untimely deaths ended two promising political careers.

Two individuals from Wijesinha’s “lost generation” are Dr. Ranjit Atapattu and Gamini Jayasuriya, both described by the author as “honest politicians” with similar temperaments. Atapattu was not assigned a significant portfolio until the 1982 cabinet reshuffle, when he became Minister of Health. Many would remember and acclaim that Atapattu was one of the most productive and enterprising Health Ministers of the 20^th century. Despite his discomfort with some party policies, such as the Peace Accord with India, he remained loyal to the party and was later reappointed as Minister under Premadasa. However, he left politics in 1990 to join the UN, and as Wijesinha notes, his potential remained unfulfilled, with at least another decade of service left. Gamini Jayasuriya, a seasoned politician and direct descendant of Anagarika Dharmapala, with a strong streak of nationalism could not agree with JRJ’s Indo-Lankan Accord. Ever the gentleman, he resigned both from the cabinet and parliament in 1987 and never returned to politics.

Though Wijesinha names Shahul Hameed as one of those of “the lost generation”, both under JR and Premadasa, he received much prominence and died while serving an Opposition MP in 1999. It could be argued that he would have had a prominent role in the 2001-2004 UNP regime, had he lived.

Premadasa and Cooray

B. Sirisena Cooray, a significant figure in the book, served as Mayor of Colombo for ten years during JR’s presidency but gained prominence only under Premadasa. A trusted confidante of Premadasa for nearly 40 years, Cooray became one of the most powerful ministers in his regime. Wijesinha observes that Cooray entered politics solely to support Premadasa, feeling no reason to remain active after the latter’s assassination. Wijesinha expresses his perspective on the various alleged conspiracies that Cooray was involved in during the 80s and 90s.

The author recounts a striking anecdote on page 20: “…when I went along with Chanaka (Amaratunga) to the funeral I was astonished to see what seemed an almost festive atmosphere. It was clear the senior leadership of the UNP felt no sorrow at all, and D. B. Wijetunga who was Acting President seemed more pleased at the advancement he had received than sad at the death of the man who had pushed him much higher than he deserved. And then Hema Premadasa made an extraordinary speech in which she seemed to be offering herself as her husband’s successor… as we were leaving, I noticed a man sitting by himself, tears pouring down his face. That, Chanaka, told me, was Sirisena Cooray, and I realized then that was a man of deep feeling, and his devotion to Premadasa was absolute.”

After Premadasa’s assassination, Cooray withdrew from active politics, even when he was offered the position of Prime Minister, resigning as UNP secretary, though his influence within the Colombo Municipality, as noted by Wijesinha, persisted well into the 21st century.

Dr. Gamini Wijesekera is another individual discussed by Wijesinha. As the author writes, he was less well-known then and is virtually forgotten today. Wijesekera was the General Secretary of the UNP and was a “gentleman”, who did not stoop into thuggery or corruption. A medical doctor turned politician, Wijesekera was one who played with a straight bat. He lost his first bid to parliament in a by-election in Maharagama in 1983. The winner of this election was Dinesh Gunawardena, who was heartily wished well by the defeated Wijesekera. As Wijesinha notes, Wijesekera later left the UNP disillusioned by some of its policies and formed Eksath Lanka Jathika Peramuna (ELJP) with Rukman Senanayake and A. C. Gooneratne. Wijesinha notes the interesting work of the ELJP, now a forgotten entity.

Fast forwarding to 1994, Wijesekera was back in the UNP camp and surprisingly replaced Sirisena Cooray as Secretary. In 1994, UNP lost its 17-year grip in power when the SLFP under Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga won narrowly in the General Election. However, three months later, Gamini Dissanayake was named the UNP candidate for the Presidency and ran an enthusiastic campaign, though CBK was eventually victorious. Wijesekera campaigned heavily for Dissanayake but ironically was one of the many prominent UNPers who perished in the Thotalanga bomb explosion with Gamini Dissanayake.

These were the ten individuals who Wijesinha examines as the “Lost Generation of the UNP”. A few others, who he hasn’t shed much light can be added to this list and dealt later by himself or another scholar. These include Dr. Neville Fernando, Shelton Ranaraja, M. D. H. Jayawardena as well as Ranjan Wijeyeratne and Harsha Abeywardena, who were assassinated. With all of these individuals, virtually losing their place in the UNP, it is not surprising that its next leader would be Wijesinha’s first cousin (mother’s brother’s son), Ranil Wickremasinghe, the subject of Wijesinha’s book, whom he discusses in length in the subsequent chapters of this book, which are not subject to this review. Just as JR became powerful in the 70s, his nephew Ranil Wickremasinghe had hardly any opposition within his Party.

Wijesinha’s approach is both engaging and accessible, skillfully combining anecdotal storytelling, humor, and incisive analysis. Due to his personal connections and familial ties with prominent figures of the UNP, most aspects of his account can be regarded as particularly reliable. This blend of narrative techniques contributes to a compelling story that captivates the reader, making his work not only enjoyable but also intellectually stimulating. The opening chapter of Rajiva Wijesinha’s book merits commendation for its content and narrative style. Moreover, it invites further research and publication on several related topics. For example, many political parties have formally or informally documented their histories.

Notable works in this regard include Prof. Wiswa Warnapala’s study of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), Leslie Goonawardena’s account of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP), and Wijesinha’s own writings on the Liberal Party. These accounts, authored by prominent figures within their respective parties, naturally reflect their authors’ biases. However, the history and development of the UNP remains fragmented, with no comprehensive exploration undertaken either by Party members or external scholars. While Wijesinha has addressed this topic in part, a thorough and cohesive history of the UNP remains absent.

In this context, each of the individuals from the “lost generation” of Sri Lankan politics warrants a distinct and balanced biography. Additionally, projects such as the Mahaweli Development Scheme, the Greater Colombo Economic Commission, the Mahapola Scholarship Project, and Gam Udawa deserve scholarly scrutiny and analysis in future research. Should these suggestions be realized, they could significantly contribute to the literature essential for understanding a critical aspect of Sri Lanka’s recent history.