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Sumi Moonesinghe’s ‘Big Break’ in business in the Maharaja Organization

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by Sumi Moonesinghe as narated to Savitri Rodrigo

I was due some long leave and Susil and I decided to come to Colombo on holiday. Since we had no home of our own at the time, we were warmly welcomed into the homes of our friends Sena Kiridena, a Director of J L Morison Son & Jones, as well as Dr. Seevali Ratwatte and his wife, Cuckoo. Susil and Anura (Bandaranaike) were both good friends with Sena.

Once we landed in Colombo, Susil’s rather large network of friends made sure there was no shortage of lunches, dinners and even teas in between because sometimes fitting in all the social engagements seemed impossible. One of these many dear friends was Killi, who, together with his brother Rajendram Maharaja (or Maha as everyone knew him), had built the Capital Maharaja Group into a formidable group of companies. Killi’s hospitality was unending — from treating us to gastronomic delights in great restaurants to plying us with beautiful gifts. Since I was already funding Ganga, Tara and Susil’s mother, plus managing the home fires, these luxuries were out of our reach on that single salary. For us, these gestures of warm hospitality and friendship therefore were real treats.

One night, while enjoying dinner with Killi at his home on Inner Flower Road with his girlfriend Canice, whom he eventually married, Killi said, “Sumi, why don’t you end your contract in Singapore and come back to work for us?” You could have heard my jaw drop, I was so surprised. But I pulled myself together and said, “But I’m only an electronics engineer, Killi You run a business and you’re asking me to join a business. I know nothing about commerce and industry.”

But then Susil looked at me, smiled and piped in: “Sumi, I can teach you business.” Like I stated, I always trusted Susil to do the right thing for me. I didn’t hesitate and before dinner was done, I agreed to join the Capital Maharaja Group.

This was definitely a turning point in my life – the point when I gave up my academic career and went into the world of commerce, a world I knew nothing about. The prospect didn’t scare me because Susil had promised to hold my hand and guide me. To me this was a strong pillar I could hold on to and move forward.

We returned to Singapore. My priority tasks were to end my contract and start packing up. My brother Ranjith who had also qualified as an engineer accompanied us on our return. We found him a job and delayed our departure until he was settled in.

When I finally handed in my resignation, it was accepted albeit with some sadness because the Singapore Polytechnic had been very happy with my performance in the two-and-a -half years I had been with them. They were also not expecting me to leave before my contract was over.

In the meantime, we also purchased a Peugeot 504, which was the car of choice for any Sri Lankan returning from a stint abroad. The Peugeot 504 had great resale value in Sri Lanka due to a certain amount of prestige attached to the brand as well. We now owned two cars – our Vauxhall Victor 2000 and the newly-acquired Peugeot 504. Susil and I had a moment of mirth about our vehicle acquisitions – in a Sri Lankan context, these two cars would label us back home as prosperous.

This was the second half of 1974 and Sri Lanka was still in a closed economy with imports being scarce. Under Mrs. Bandaranaike’s Government, the country had descended into an economic abyss with food shortages, a rationing environment leading to long queues for basic food, and a policy of ‘Produce or Perish’ being the clarion call. The cost of imports had spiralled and export earnings stagnant; this was exacerbated by a blend of Government mismanagement. Basic necessities were luxuries and knowing this, I remember packing the boots of both cars with plastic Tupperware, bottles and jars which you could hardly find in Sri Lanka.

In the meanwhile, Killi and his brother Maha floated Jones Overseas Limited as part of the Capital Maharaja Group, with a share capital of Rs. 10,000. They gave me a one-third stake in the company. I was appointed Managing Director of Jones Overseas Limited and at 30 years of age, probably the youngest to helm a company within a conglomerate.

Then the wheels began turning and sugar was on top of the agenda.

In January 1975, Susil went to see Mrs. Bandaranaike at the Prime Minister’s Office. He was in the waiting room when he overheard a conversation between her Secretary Dharmasiri Peiris and Mrs. Bandaranaike on the impending visit of the Australian Prime Minister. Dharmasiri suggested that Mrs. Bandaranaike ask the Australian PM for wheat, which was more urgent than sugar, even though sugar was in very short supply. Susil, in his wisdom, knew if there was a shortage of sugar, things wouldn’t bode well for the country. The populace would retaliate. He was at that office with a recipe that could sweeten the sourness that was now eating at the very core of the country’s existence.

Susil sat patiently in the foyer and was finally called in. Without beating about the bush, he said, “The country has a shortage of sugar and things are not boding well for the Government. I can arrange to bring down a representative from Robert Kuok’s office in Singapore to negotiate the purchase of sugar for Sri Lanka.” Whatever her faults, Mrs. Bandaranaike was a woman of action. She knew Susil spoke the truth and immediately agreed to his suggestion.

Now that we got the go-ahead, we quickly contacted Singapore and Robert Kuok sent his brother’s son-in-law Kenneth Yeo to Sri Lanka for negotiations. As Managing Director of Jones Overseas, I was to accompany Kenneth to the meetings that were scheduled with various officials.

Our first meeting was with the Food Commissioner Tom Pathmanathan who, under that Government, was tasked with the purchases of all essential commodities. After that meeting, he arranged for our next meeting with the Secretary of the Trade Ministry, Dr. Jayantha Kelegama, and Director of External Resources Austin Fernando. At all these discussions, Kenneth confirmed that he could supply the quantity of sugar that Sri Lanka required within a month. To the Sri Lankan team, this seemed like plucking fruit out of thin air and I could see they didn’t quite believe him.

In the current environment, this promise was a near impossibility. Loading the consignment alone would take 10 days at the minimum, in addition to the sailing time for a 10,000-tonne vessel which was way more than the month, Kenneth stated. All this information was completely new to me, but I sat there absorbing everything like a sponge.

When we got out of the office, I asked Kenneth how on earth he would meet this impossible deadline. He smiled and said, Being the largest sugar trader in this region, we have many vessels all around in the seas at any given time. All we have to do is divert one towards Sri Lanka.” That made sense to me. We were dealing with the world’s sugar kings after all.

Once we had got the agreement from the Government, the paperwork began. At that time, emails were unheard of and faxes were a thing of the future. We only worked with telexes. I pored over all the contracts, learned ship-loading terms, logistics and every related area in exports, commodities and shipping. Contracts of sale were finalized, with Kenneth Yeo and the Food Commissioner Tom Pathmanathan signing on the dotted line, concluding the sale of 10,000 metric tonnes of white sugar for a total value of USD 12.5 million.

This was the largest transaction the Capital Maharaja Group had made until then, and as one-third shareholder, I got a substantial amount of money as a result. For me, it was like winning a lottery.

Kenneth kept his promise. The sugar arrived at the Colombo Port on time and our first deal was a success.

My next task was at hand. As Managing Director of Jones Overseas I was to expand the Company’s purview in the import and distribution of other essential commodities – rice, flour and even milk powder. Our cold call to 15, Carpenter Street, while we were yet residing in Singapore, had borne fruit after all, because the very large commodity business Jones Overseas built up could only be attributed to the relationship we forged with the Kuok Brothers, specifically Robert Kuok, the ‘Sugar King’ of Asia.

After our very successful sugar deal, Robert Kuok invited Susil and me on an all-expenses-paid visit to Singapore. However, just before we left for Singapore, when we were returning from a visit to Susil’s cousin Dr. Ananda (Jacko) Jayatilleke in Kandy, I began feeling quite nauseous. Despite feeling ill, we made our habitual stop at my parents’ home and just as she saw me my mother immediately said, “You are pregnant Sumi. I can see it in your face. Don’t take any medicine for nausea. It’s a natural process.”

With my mother’s words ringing in my ears and Susil quite excited at the news, an appointment was made with Gynaecologist Professor Henry Nanayakkara. When we went at the allotted time of the appointment however, there were far too many patients waiting to see him. Patience is definitely not one of my virtues. I persuaded Susil to consult Dr. Siva Chinnathamby at Hewa Avenue, Colombo 7. When we met her, she examined me and said everything was fine.

Then I told her about my impending holiday in Singapore. She agreed to let me go but ordered a strict no-exertion holiday as I was yet in my first trimester. “There will be no walkabouts or shopping excursions,” she said strictly. “But I love window shopping and my walks on the quay with Susil,” I grumbled. She was not to be dissuaded and gave us both strict instructions.

When we got into Singapore, Robert Kuok had booked us into the Shangri-La and from the moment we landed, we were treated like royalty. A warm and hospitable man, his friendship extended to meeting his family – his lovely wife Poh-lin and the children who eventually went on to become CEOs of the various companies he owned. I also remember meeting Richard Liu, who was helming the sugar business. Richard and I struck up a strong friendship which would last throughout our lifetimes.

It was he who became my point of contact and my business sounding board, always on hand to hear me out and give me sound words of advice. In fact, in the first year of business, Jones Overseas sold 120,000 tonnes of sugar with the Kuoks winning every single tender floated by the Food Commissioner.

We were always on the lookout for opportunities to grow our commodity business. One of these was a tender announced by the FAO in Rome. The Kuoks wanted me to fly to Rome. I don’t remember if I told them about my pregnancy but, even though I was seven months pregnant, I wasn’t really showing. So I wore clothes a size larger and boarded the flight for Rome. The airline didn’t notice anything either.

In Rome, we stayed at the Excelsior Hotel on Via Venito, which was called the Legend of Rome. One of the city’s most iconic palaces, the hotel promised a truly Roman Emperor experience which, for Susil and me, was truly memorable. We won the tender and I was ecstatic.

(Excerpted from Sumi Moonesinghe’s recently published Memoirs)



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A wage for housework? India’s sweeping experiment in paying women

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Women in Maharashtra aged 21-65 receive a monthly cash transfer of 1,500 rupees ($16) [BBC]

In a village in the central Indian state of Madhya Pradesh, a woman receives a small but steady sum each month – not wages, for she has no formal job, but an unconditional cash transfer from the government.

Premila Bhalavi says the money covers medicines, vegetables and her son’s school fees. The sum, 1,500 rupees ($16: £12), may be small, but its effect – predictable income, a sense of control and a taste of independence – is anything but.

Her story is increasingly common. Across India, 118 million adult women in 12 states now receive unconditional cash transfers from their governments, making India the site of one of the world’s largest and least-studied social-policy experiments.

Long accustomed to subsidising grain, fuel and rural jobs, India has stumbled into something more radical: paying adult women simply because they keep households running, bear the burden of unpaid care and form an electorate too large to ignore.

Eligibility filters vary – age thresholds, income caps and exclusions for families with government employees, taxpayers or owners of cars or large plots of land.

“The unconditional cash transfers signal a significant expansion of Indian states’ welfare regimes in favour of women,” Prabha Kotiswaran, a professor of law and social justice at King’s College London, told the BBC.

The transfers range from 1,000-2,500 rupees ($12-$30) a month – meagre sums, worth roughly 5-12% of household income, but regular. With 300 million women now holding bank accounts, transfers have become administratively simple.

Women typically spend the money on household and family needs – children’s education, groceries, cooking gas, medical and emergency expenses, retiring small debts and occasional personal items like gold or small comforts.

What sets India apart from Mexico, Brazil or Indonesia – countries with large conditional cash-transfer schemes – is the absence of conditions: the money arrives whether or not a child attends school or a household falls below the poverty line.

AFP  Women voters stand in queues to cast their ballots at a polling station during the first phase of voting for assembly elections on November 6, 2025, at the Raghopur constituency in the Vaishali district of the Indian state of Bihar.
Bihar transferred 10,000 rupees to women’s bank accounts ahead of polls [BBC]

 

Goa was the first state to launch an unconditional cash transfer scheme to women in 2013. The phenomenon picked up just before the pandemic in 2020, when north-eastern Assam rolled out a scheme for vulnerable women. Since then these transfers have turned into a political juggernaut.

The recent wave of unconditional cash transfers targets adult women, with some states acknowledging their unpaid domestic and care work. Tamil Nadu frames its payments as a “rights grant” while West Bengal’s scheme similarly recognises women’s unpaid contributions.

In other states, the recognition is implicit: policymakers expect women to use the transfers for household and family welfare, say experts.

This focus on women’s economic role has also shaped politics: in 2021, Tamil actor-turned-politician Kamal Haasan promised “salaries for housewives”. (His fledgling party lost.) By 2024, pledges of women-focused cash transfers helped deliver victories to political parties in Maharashtra, Jharkhand, Odisha, Haryana and Andhra Pradesh.

In the recent elections in Bihar, the political power of cash transfers was on stark display. In the weeks before polling in the country’s poorest state, the government transferred 10,000 rupees ($112; £85) to 7.5 million female bank accounts under a livelihood-generation scheme. Women voted in larger numbers than men, decisively shaping the outcome.

Critics called it blatant vote-buying, but the result was clear: women helped the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led coalition secure a landslide victory. Many believe this cash infusion was a reminder of how financial support can be used as political leverage.

Yet Bihar is only one piece of a much larger picture. Across India, unconditional cash transfers are reaching tens of millions of women on a regular basis.

Maharashtra alone promises benefits for 25 million women; Odisha’s scheme reaches 71% of its female voters.

In some policy circles, the schemes are derided as vote-buying freebies. They also put pressure on state finances: 12 states are set to spend around $18bn on such payouts this fiscal year. A report by think-tank PRS Legislative Research notes that half of these states face revenue deficits – this happens when a state borrows to pay regular expenses without creating assets.

But many argue they also reflect a slow recognition of something India’s feminists have argued for decades: the economic value of unpaid domestic and care work.

Women in India spent nearly five hours a day on such work in 2024 – more than three times the time spent by men, according to the latest Time Use Survey. This lopsided burden helps explain India’s stubbornly low female labour-force participation. The cash transfers, at least, acknowledge the imbalance, experts say.

Do they work?

Evidence is still thin but instructive. A 2025 study in Maharashtra found that 30% of eligible women did not register – sometimes because of documentation problems, sometimes out of a sense of self-sufficiency. But among those who did, nearly all controlled their own bank accounts.

Swastik Pal Soma Das sells clothes using the money, supporting her seven-member household in West Bengal
Soma Das sells clothes using the money, supporting her household in West Bengal [BBC]

 

A 2023 survey in West Bengal found that 90% operated their accounts themselves and 86% decided how to spend the money. Most used it for food, education and medical costs; hardly transformative, but the regularity offered security and a sense of agency.

More detailed work by Prof Kotiswaran and colleagues shows mixed outcomes.

In Assam, most women spent the money on essentials; many appreciated the dignity it afforded, but few linked it to recognition of unpaid work, and most would still prefer paid jobs.

In Tamil Nadu, women getting the money spoke of peace of mind, reduced marital conflict and newfound confidence – a rare social dividend. In Karnataka, beneficiaries reported eating better, gaining more say in household decisions and wanting higher payments.

Yet only a sliver understood the scheme as compensation for unpaid care work; messaging had not travelled. Even so, women said the money allowed them to question politicians and manage emergencies. Across studies, the majority of women had full control of the cash.

“The evidence shows that the cash transfers are tremendously useful for women to meet their own immediate needs and those of their households. They also restore dignity to women who are otherwise financially dependent on their husbands for every minor expense,” Prof Kotiswaran says.

Importantly, none of the surveys finds evidence that the money discourages women from seeking paid work or entrench gender roles – the two big feminist fears, according to a report by Prof Kotiswaran along with Gale Andrew and Madhusree Jana.

Nor have they reduced women’s unpaid workload, the researchers find. They do, however, strengthen financial autonomy and modestly strengthen bargaining power. They are neither panacea nor poison: they are useful but limited tools, operating in a patriarchal society where cash alone cannot undo structural inequities.

Swastik Pal Women at a cash transfer camp in West Bengal
Women welcome the dignity the cash transfers provide [BBC]

 

What next?

The emerging research offers clear hints.

Eligibility rules should be simplified, especially for women doing heavy unpaid care work. Transfers should remain unconditional and independent of marital status.

But messaging should emphasise women’s rights and the value of unpaid work, and financial-literacy efforts must deepen, researchers say. And cash transfers cannot substitute for employment opportunities; many women say what they really want is work that pays and respect that endures.

“If the transfers are coupled with messaging on the recognition of women’s unpaid work, they could potentially disrupt the gendered division of labour when paid employment opportunities become available,” says Prof Kotiswaran.

India’s quiet cash transfers revolution is still in its early chapters. But it already shows that small, regular sums – paid directly to women – can shift power in subtle, significant ways.

Whether this becomes a path to empowerment or merely a new form of political patronage will depend on what India chooses to build around the money.

[BBC]

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People set example for politicians to follow

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Disaster relief (AFP picture)

Some opposition political parties have striven hard to turn the disaster of Cyclone Ditwah to their advantage. A calamity of such unanticipated proportions ought to have enabled all political parties to come together to deal with this tragedy. Failure to do so would indicate both political and moral bankruptcy. The main issue they have forcefully brought up is the government’s failure to take early action on the Meteorological Department’s warnings. The Opposition even convened a meeting of their own with former President Ranil Wickremesinghe and other senior politicians who shared their experience of dealing with natural and man-made disasters of the past, and the present government’s failures to match them.

The difficulty to anticipate the havoc caused by the cyclone was compounded by the neglect of the disaster management system, which includes previous governments that failed to utilise the allocated funds in an open, transparent and corruption free manner. Land designated as “Red Zones” by the National Building Research Organisation (NBRO), a government research and development institute, were built upon by people and ignored by successive governments, civil society and the media alike. NBRO was established in 1984. According to NBRO records, the decision to launch a formal “Landslide Hazard Zonation Mapping Project (LHMP)” dates from 1986. The institutional process of identifying landslide-prone slopes, classifying zones (including what we today call “Red Zones”), and producing hazard maps, started roughly 35 to 40 years ago.

Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines which were lashed by cyclones at around the same time as Sri Lanka experienced Cyclone Ditwah were also unprepared and also suffered enormously. The devastation caused by cyclones in the larger southeast Asian region is due to global climate change. During Cyclone Ditwah some parts of the central highlands received more than 500 mm of rainfall. Official climatological data cite the average annual rainfall for Sri Lanka as roughly 1850 mm though this varies widely by region: from around 900 mm in the dry zones up to 5,000 mm in wet zones. The torrential rains triggered by Ditwah were so heavy that for some communities they represented a rainfall surge comparable to a major part of their typical annual rainfall.

Inclusive Approach

Climate change now joins the pantheon of Sri Lanka’s challenges that are beyond the ability of a single political party or government to resolve. It is like the economic bankruptcy, ethnic conflict and corruption in governance that requires an inclusive approach in which the Opposition, civil society, religious society and the business community need to join rather than merely criticise the government. It will be in their self-interest to do so. A younger generation (Gen Z), with more energy and familiarity with digital technologies filled, the gaps that the government was unable to fill and, in a sense, made both the Opposition and traditional civil society redundant.

Within hours of news coming in that floods and landslides were causing havoc to hundreds of thousands of people, a people’s movement for relief measures was underway. There was no one organiser or leader. There were hundreds who catalysed volunteers to mobilise to collect resources and to cook meals for the victims in community kitchens they set up. These community kitchens sprang up in schools, temples, mosques, garages and even roadside stalls. Volunteers used social media to crowdsource supplies, match donors with delivery vehicles, and coordinate routes that had become impassable due to fallen trees or mudslides. It was a level of commitment and coordination rarely achieved by formal institutions.

The spontaneous outpouring of support was not only a youth phenomenon. The larger population, too, contributed to the relief effort. The Galle District Secretariat sent 23 tons of rice to the cyclone affected areas from donations brought by the people. The Matara District Secretariat made arrangements to send teams of volunteers to the worst affected areas. Just as in the Aragalaya protest movement of 2022, those who joined the relief effort were from all ethnic and religious communities. They gave their assistance to anyone in need, regardless of community. This showed that in times of crisis, Sri Lankans treat others without discrimination as human beings, not as members of specific communities.

Turning Point

The challenge to the government will be to ensure that the unity among the people that the cyclone disaster has brought will outlive the immediate relief phase and continue into the longer term task of national reconstruction. There will be a need to rethink the course of economic development to ensure human security. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has spoken about the need to resettle all people who live above 5000 feet and to reforest those areas. This will require finding land for resettlement elsewhere. The resettlement of people in the hill country will require that the government address the issue of land rights for the Malaiyaha Tamils.

Since independence the Malaiyaha Tamils have been collectively denied ownership to land due first to citizenship issues and now due to poverty and unwillingness of plantation managements to deal with these issues in a just and humanitarian manner beneficial to the workers. Their resettlement raises complex social, economic and political questions. It demands careful planning to avoid repeating past mistakes where displaced communities were moved to areas lacking water, infrastructure or livelihoods. It also requires political consensus, as land is one of the most contentious issues in Sri Lanka, tied closely to identity, ethnicity and historical grievances. Any sustainable solution must go beyond temporary relocation and confront the historical exclusion of the Malaiyaha Tamil community, whose labour sustains the plantation economy but who remain among the poorest groups in the country.

Cyclone Ditwah has thus become a turning point. It has highlighted the need to strengthen governance and disaster preparedness, but it has also revealed a different possibility for Sri Lanka, one in which the people lead with humanity and aspire for the wellbeing of all, and the political leadership emulates their example. The people have shown through their collective response to Cyclone Ditwah that unity and compassion remain strong, which a sincere, moral and hardworking government can tap into. The challenge to the government will be to ensure that the unity among the people that the cyclone disaster has brought will outlive the immediate relief phase and continue into the longer term task of national reconstruction with political reconciliation.

by Jehan Perera

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An awakening: Revisiting education policy after Cyclone Ditwah

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One of the schools flooded during the recent disasters. (Image courtesy Sri Lanka Navy)

In the short span of two or three days, Cyclone Ditwah, has caused a disaster of unprecedented proportions in our midst. Lashing away at almost the entirety of the country, it has broken through the ramparts of centuries old structures and eroded into areas, once considered safe and secure.

The rains may have passed us by. The waters will recede, shops will reopen, water will be in our taps, and we can resume the daily grind of life. But it will not be the same anymore; it should not be. It should not be business as usual for any of us, nor for the government. Within the past few years, Sri Lankan communities have found themselves in the middle of a crisis after crisis, both natural and man-made, but always made acute by the myopic policies of successive governments, and fuelled by the deeply hierarchical, gendered and ethnicised divides that exist within our societies. The need of the hour for the government today is to reassess its policies and rethink the directions the country, as a whole, has been pushed into.

Neoliberal disaster

In the aftermath of the devastation caused by the natural disaster, fundamental questions have been raised about our existence. Our disaster is, in whole or in part, the result of a badly and cruelly managed environment of the planet. Questions have been raised about the nature of our economy. We need to rethink the way land is used. Livelihoods may have to be built anew, promoting people’s welfare, and by deveoloping a policy on climate change. Mega construction projects is a major culprit as commentators have noted. Landslides in the upcountry are not merely a result of Ditwah lashing at our shores and hills, but are far more structural and points to centuries of mismanagement of land. (https://island.lk/weather-disasters-sri-lanka-flooded-by-policy-blunders-weak-enforcement-and-environmental-crime-climate-expert/). It is also about the way people have been shunted into lands, voluntarily or involuntarily, that are precarious, in their pursuit of a viable livelihood, within the limited opportunities available to them.

Neo liberal policies that demand unfettered land appropriation and built on the premise of economic growth at any expense, leading to growing rural-urban divides, need to be scrutinised for their short and long term consequences. And it is not that any of these economic drives have brought any measure of relief and rejuvenation of the economy. We have been under the tyrannical hold of the IMF, camouflaged as aid and recovery, but sinking us deeper into the debt trap. In October 2025, Ahilan Kadirgamar writes, that the IMF programme by the end of 2027, “will set up Sri Lanka for the next crisis.” He also lambasts the Central Bank and the government’s fiscal policy for their punishing interest rates in the context of disinflation and rising poverty levels. We have had to devalue the rupee last month, and continue to rely on the workforce of domestic workers in West Asia as the major source of foreign exchange. The government’s negotiations with the IMF have focused largely on relief and infrastructure rebuilding, despite calls from civil society, demanding debt justice.

The government has unabashedly repledged its support for the big business class. The cruelest cut of them all is the appointment of a set of high level corporate personalities to the post-disaster recovery committee, with the grand name, “Rebuilding Sri Lanka.” The message is loud and clear, and is clearly a slap in the face of the working people of the country, whose needs run counter to the excessive greed of extractive corporate freeloaders. Economic growth has to be understood in terms that are radically different from what we have been forced to think of it as, till now. For instance, instead of investment for high profits, and the business of buy and sell in the market, rechannel investment and labour into overall welfare. Even catch phrases like sustainable development have missed their mark. We need to think of the economy more holistically and see it as the sustainability of life, livelihood and the wellbeing of the planet.

The disaster has brought on an urgency for rethinking our policies. One of the areas where this is critical is education. There are two fundamental challenges facing education: Budget allocation and priorities. In an address at a gathering of the Chamber of Commerce, on 02 December, speaking on rebuilding efforts, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education Dr. Harini Amarasuriya restated her commitment to the budget that has been passed, a budget that has a meagre 2.4% of the GDP allocated for education. This allocation for education comes in a year that educational reforms are being rolled out, when heavy expenses will likely be incurred. In the aftermath of the disaster, this has become more urgent than ever.

Reforms in Education

The Government has announced a set of amendments to educational policy and implementation, with little warning and almost no consultation with the public, found in the document, Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025 published by the Ministry of Education. Though hailed as transformative by the Prime Minister (https://www.news.lk/current-affairs/in-the-prevailing-situation-it-is-necessary-to-act-strategically-while-creating-the-proper-investments-ensuring-that-actions-are-discharged-on-proper-policies-pm), the policy is no more than a regurgitation of what is already there, made worse. There are a few welcome moves, like the importance placed on vocational training. Here, I want to raise three points relating to vital areas of the curriculum that are of concern: 1) streamlining at an early age; relatedly 2) prioritising and privileging what is seen as STEM education; and 3) introducing a credit-based modular education.

1. A study of the policy document will demonstrate very clearly that streamlining begins with Junior Secondary Education via a career interest test, that encourages students to pursue a particular stream in higher studies. Further Learning Modules at both “Junior Secondary Education” and “Senior Secondary Education Phase I,” entrench this tendency. Psychometric testing, that furthers this goal, as already written about in our column (https://kuppicollective.lk/psychometrics-and-the-curriculum-for-general-education/) points to the bizarre.

2. The kernel of the curriculum of the qualifying examination of Senior Secondary Education Phase I, has five mandatory subjects, including First Language, Math, and Science. There is no mandatory social science or humanities related subject. One can choose two subjects from a set of electives that has history and geography as separate subjects, but a Humanities/Social Science subject is not in the list of mandatory subjects. .

3. A credit-based, modular education: Even in universities, at the level of an advanced study of a discipline, many of us are struggling with module-based education. The credit system promotes a fragmented learning process, where, depth is sacrificed for quick learning, evaluated numerically, in credit values.

Units of learning, assessed, piece meal, are emphasised over fundamentals and the detailing of fundamentals. Introducing a module based curriculum in secondary education can have an adverse impact on developing the capacity of a student to learn a subject in a sustained manner at deeper levels.

Education wise, and pedagogically, we need to be concerned about rigidly compartmentalising science oriented, including technological subjects, separately from Humanities and Social Studies. This cleavage is what has led to the idea of calling science related subjects, STEM, automatically devaluing humanities and social sciences. Ironically, universities, today, have attempted, in some instances, to mix both streams in their curriculums, but with little success; for the overall paradigm of education has been less about educational goals and pedagogical imperatives, than about technocratic priorities, namely, compartmentalisation, fragmentation, and piecemeal consumerism. A holistic response to development needs to rethink such priorities, categorisations and specialisations. A social and sociological approach has to be built into all our educational and development programmes.

National Disasters and Rebuilding Community

In the aftermath of the disaster, the role of education has to be rethought radically. We need a curriculum that is not trapped in the dichotomy of STEM and Humanities, and be overly streamlined and fragmented. The introduction of climate change as a discipline, or attention to environmental destruction cannot be a STEM subject, a Social Science/Humanities subject or even a blend of the two. It is about the vision of an economic-cum-educational policy that sees the environment and the economy as a function of the welfare of the people. Educational reforms must be built on those fundamentals and not on real or imagined short term goals, promoted at the economic end by neo liberal policies and the profiteering capitalist class.

As I write this, the sky brightens with its first streaks of light, after days of incessant rain and gloom, bringing hope into our hearts, and some cheer into the hearts of those hundreds of thousands of massively affected people, anxiously waiting for a change in the weather every second of their lives. The sense of hope that allows us to forge ahead is collective and social. The response by Lankan communities, to the disaster, has been tremendously heartwarming, infusing hope into what still is a situation without hope for many. This spirit of collective endeavour holds the promise for what should be the foundation for recovery. People’s demands and needs should shape the re-envisioning of policy, particularly in the vital areas of education and economy.

(Sivamohan Sumathy was formerly attached to the Department of English, University of Peradeniya)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

By Sivamohan Sumathy

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