Features

The day the boss mistook me for a peon and took me to an important meeting

Published

10 months ago

2025/12/14

Realizing his mistake, Kulasinghe invited me to participate at the meeting despite my role as briefcase carrier

On that particular Monday, my fiance had an early start at Shaw Wallace and Hedges, a private sector firm with its offices about two kilometres south from the State Engineering Corporation SEC, where I worked. Having accompanied her to her workplace, I arrived very early, 6:30 AM, to an open and empty office. There were no hordes of security guards in 1970s and there was an open-door policy at SEC, one could say. A single watcher (as Security Staff were then called) manned the entrance. He greeted me and off I climbed stairs and to my desk. How times have changed in the period to 2020 regards security!

I was dressed in spotless white longs, white short-sleeved shirt, white socks and black shoes. Within 10 minutes of my arrival, SEC Chairman Kulasinghe came up the stairs hurriedly to the second floor. He was in white shorts, white shirt, knee length white stockings and black shoes. So, there were only two people in the building, both on the same floor, and both in white with one difference – he was in shorts.

I was standing near the entrance door to the floor. I had come down to check on a friend, but the floor was empty. Chairman’s office was on the same floor at the rear end and in more salubrious surroundings. I could sense an urgency as he looked excited. He proceeded to inquire in a commandeering fashion with the conversation being entirely in Sinhala:

“Where is Gunapala?” (“Kohede Gunapala?”)

“Looks like he is not in, Sir!” was my reply. (“Sir, Gunapala thama wedeta avilla ne wagai”)

“Where is Sirisena, then? ” (“Ko, ehenan Sirisena?”)

“He is also not to be seen anywhere, Sir” (“Eyath kohewath penne ne Sir”)

“You check in the canteen” he ordered: he was clearly annoyed. (“Thamuse Gihilla canteemma balanawa”)

I had a ready reply as I had been to the canteen downstairs about five minutes earlier for a cup of tea. The doors were shut with a notice on it in all three languages announcing its opening time. “The canteen does not open till seven, Sir” (“hatha wenekan canteema arinne ne Sir”)

Kulasinghe checked his watch.

“Okay! Then you come with me” (“Ehenan, thamuse math ekke enewa”), thrusting his briefcase towards my midriff, for me to hold it to prevent its fall . He was somewhat petulant and rude in my opinion, somewhat small.

This was not the time to question an order nor wonder about the behavioural etiquette of superiors towards their subordinates, especially towards those in the lowest rungs. I followed the Leader, three steps behind. Fortunately, the

briefcase was not too heavy for my then skinny frame. He walked fast and I followed, with my stride kept in check

so as not to overrun the boss. He walked, nay, ran down the stairs and we were at the open ground floor of the Corporation, where the Chairman’s official car was always parked, and very prominently at that. Next to the reserved lot was the canteen, with closed gates.

There was no one in the office to signal the driver that the Chairman was on his way to the car. The driver on sighting his master, put away the Dinamina newspaper and hurriedly got out of the car to open the passenger side rear door. The Chairman got in. I was now standing near the rear door holding the briefcase.

In management studies it is said that should one wish to approach a CEO, the two most difficult obstacles to get past are the CEO’s secretary and the driver, who will thwart any minion. The air of superiority of this driver was apparent for me to witness and endure. With the driver staring at me, a surprised Kulasinghe finding me at the rear door, boomed in Sinhala: “You get into the front seat.” (“Issaraha seat ekete naginewa”)

A wry smile appeared on the driver’s face as if to indicate “You got your just desserts for not knowing your place in life”. Minions always travelled away from their superior. Subservient behaviour being the norm.

There was definitely no driver respect for an underling like me. Generally, the personal driver of the top brass of any large organization is feared because he can carry tales to the boss. Kulasinghe depended on his driver to take him everywhere. Such drivers are acutely aware that they are in an influential position.

The driver closed the rear door on the passenger side, walked in front of the vehicle ignoring me, and settled into his seat. I could see that he was unnerved at carrying extra cargo next to him. I opened the front passenger-side door, got in, closed the door and clasped the briefcase now on my lap.

“To Minister Maithripala’s office” (“Maithripala amathi thumage karyalayata”) was the directive.

“Yes, Sir” (“Ow Sir”)

The driver, a stocky darkish man, continued to ignore me, apparently concentrating on the empty road with steely eyes. I did not need any more proof from this ‘powerful’ person that I was not welcome. I was an intruder. There were only two people usually in the limousine. Sometimes there were three, when Mrs Kulasinghe shared the back seat. But now, horror of horrors, there was a third man.

I was an interested listener to the conversation between the site managers and the supremo in the back seat on the VHF. He spoke in English with about five site managers during the trip of about four miles. I was as attentive listener. A sample of the conversation went like this; “Can I speak to Mr Kandiah ? Over!”

‘Over’ is the usual signal on a one-way radio conversation, requesting the other party to speak. VHF capabilities at the time were limited to a one-way conversation only. I could hear the excited voice of the clerk at the other end through the crackling sounds;

“Chairman is on the VHF, Call Mr Kandiah” he gushed. A call from the Chairman early in the morning was a ritual, and the head of each site made it a point to report to work early. “Anil here, good morning, how are you Sir? Over!”

It was an education for me. The Chairman reviewing the progress of work, giving instructions and being precise on any technical solutions, where requested. The aura surrounding him and the reverential respect by the highly qualified project managers and engineers, was not misplaced.

The Chairman and I alighted 15 minutes later at the Ministry in Colombo Fort. Kulasinghe did not wait for the driver to come around and open the door for him. There was simplicity in the man.

The building was three storeys high. At the entrance and

at ground level, marked Level-1, was a notice with an arrow

pointing upwards, which listed ‘Minister of Highways- Level 3’.

I knew my place in life for the next hour. It was to be outside the door of the minister’s office after handing over the briefcase and waiting for the meeting to end, and again carrying the briefcase back to the car.

But a dramatic intervention was about to happen to change my destiny and my standing. We went up the stairs, with Kulasinghe still about three steps ahead and came to the first landing at Level-2.

Nath Amarakoon, as if coming in from the side shadows, also alighted at the same time on the landing through a corridor leading from his office. The Ministry of Housing was on the same floor. He was carrying a file. I was to find out later, that Nath had been invited by the Minister

as he was an engineer with political links.

“Morning, are you going to meet the Minister, Mr Kulasinghe” was Nath’s pleasant greeting in English’ “Yes” “So am I. Both of us will be at the bridge meeting then?”

I am sure the news would not have elated Kulasinghe. But his reaction could not be gauged with his back to me.

It was at this time, that I came on to the Level-2 landing.

“Hello, Nihal” said Nath and Kulasinghe turned back and to

me, now aware of my presence and having heard Nath greeting

me in English.

“So, what do you do at the Corporation?” Kulasinghe inquired with wide eyes. “I am a graduate engineer, Mr Kulasinghe.”

A wry smile appeared on Kulasinghe’s lips. I enjoyed the smile and acknowledged the greeting with a smile. Each of us knew what was going through in the other’s mind. “OK, you can come to the meeting” was his conciliatory gesture

to make amends for the faux pas of thinking I was a peon. So the trio of engineers, ascended to the Minister’s room. We were led to a polished teak table in the middle of the room, with chairs around it. There was a chair and another very smaller table about two metres away which I assumed to be my rightful position.

Nath and Kulasinghe sat around the high table in two adjoining chairs. I sat down in my chair and laid the briefcase on the small table. The peon was also looking at me, and then he disappeared, only to appear behind two other gentlemen of about Kulasinghe’s age.

They too sat around the high table and exchanged greetings.

“Hello Kule” followed by;

“Hello Nath” was the greeting by a stocky gentleman.

“Hello Chandra” was Kulasinghe’s reply.

“Let me introduce Sivagnanam, my Assistant Secretary to both of you” Chandrasena said. Sivagnanam smiled and shook hands all round. Then he came around to me.

“What is your name, young man? I am Sivagnam?”

Nath and Sivagnanam wore neckties.

“Nihal Kodituwakku, Mr Sivagnanam.”

“Why are you sitting away, join us at the table”

“It is okay, and I am comfortable here”

“You, come and sit next to me”, Kulasinghe called and I obeyed, and sat down at the adjoining vacant seat. Next to me on the right there were three more vacant seats.

That is how at the age of 24, I sat around a table with two permanent secretaries, an assistant secretary and the chairman of SEC awaiting the arrival of the Minister. The peon brought a large pot of tea. The cups and saucers were already laid around the table.

I thought of my fiancé Lucky and was grateful that she requested me to accompany her to work at an early hour on that Monday. Unknown to her at the time, I chanced to be in high company, after all.

About five minutes later the peon again disappeared and re-appeared behind the Minister of Highways, Maithripala Senanayake. Both of them were the only people in national

dress in the room. The five trousered men got up. gave a common greeting “Morning to all.” He was the tallest man in the room and, I must say, that I was the next in height.

A lady who later I happened to find out to be a stenographer-clerk, sat down on the chair vacated by me. Another peon carrying a typewriter walked in and deposited it on the table in front of the lady. She then pulled out her note book. Unknown to me, I was about to learn a lesson on how to handle people in power, politicians or CEOs which has stood me in good stead and helped in my career.

The Minister got to the crux of the matter straightaway; and the reason for the gathering. “At the elections I gave a promise to my constituents that the bridge at Medawachiya Electorate will be built.” I cannot remember the exact location which the Minister mentioned, but the next action was noteworthy.

“Get me my briefcase, please” said Kulasinghe. I handed the briefcase and he pulled out a drawing from the case. Obviously, he had been sounded out earlier and had come prepared. Kulasinghe now standing, having laid out the drawing on the high table said “Minister, there are very big technical problems”, and at that moment, Chandrasena came across and looked at the drawing.

Chandrasena added “I agree with Kule, this bridge will cost a lot. I recommend that it not be built” If the Minister was angry, he did not show it, but looked across to Sivagnanam. The lady at the table was taking down notes, presumably in short-hand.

Sivagnanam came across, near the two engineers and directly addressed the Minister and said firmly; “Sir, what Mr Kulasinghe and Mr Chandrasena are saying is that there are technical problems. These are surmountable problems and solutions can be found”.

The other permanent secretary Nath, as if waiting for the signal to interject, now joined the fray, remaining seated. He said, “Sir, if you gave a promise to the electorate, it needs to be fulfilled. The current wooden bridge needs to be replaced with a concrete bridge. There are ways to minimize the costs.”

I was glued to my seat, attentive listener, with nothing to contribute. The Minister nodded his head in the affirmative and smiled at the two recent speakers. It was a wide smile. It was also the cue for Kulasinghe and Chandrasena to stare at Nath and at the career public servant and Assistant Secretary, Sivagnanam. The latter two had pulled the rug under the feet of two leading engineers in the country.

Kulasinghe and Chandrasena looked at Nath, and the hatred in their eyes was intense. If only looks could kill! “Thanks to all, the bridge can be built. I will inform my electorate” and the Minister got up.

The peon ran to the door, opened it and let the master go

through. He held the door open for Nath, followed by Sivagnanam. The stenographer turned her attention to typing. The two engineers were left in the room, forlorn. I put the drawing in the briefcase.

Kulasinghe meandered down the stairs, still ruminating at the loss of face, followed by me with the briefcase. It was obvious to me that the two high ranking and reputable engineers, one of them a permanent secretary, were raw in

political nuance and had a steep learning curve for their future dealings with ministers.

It was a case study of two prominent experienced engineers losing the battle. A young engineer with political nous, along with a career public servant who knew the game, won the day.

It was a lesson for me that Ministers are not worried about technicalities of a problem. What is music to their ears is to hear that a job can be done.

I understand that the bridge was completed by the State

Development and Construction Corporation in 1976 at a considerable cost. The cost benefit analysis did not justify such a bridge. Do you think that the politician was worried about such analysis?

A series of a combination of time of my arrival to be the first at SEC that morning, plus my attire, and being the only one in the office led to the above episode, the recall of which still makes me smile. An incident born out of sheer coincidence and a case of mistaken identity. It was hilarious being identified as a peon, and concurrently educational in how to manage and massage a politician in delivering their needs.

Looking at the brighter side, my attire of the day plus being the first to arrive at SEC clinched a valuable experience. In Perth, I was employed at the West Australian Treasury from 2008, and we were trained on how to answer our political master, the Minister for Finance, who also doubled up as the Treasurer cum Deputy Premier.

The template in answering Ministerial Requests required the following; “If the decision after long hours of deliberation by the public servants was to agree with Minister’s requests, one were to mention the “Request can be complied with”. No supporting documentation was needed. If the answer is in the negative a maximum of a single page summary to be provided”

The reasoning was that the Minister’s time is valuable, and should not be eaten up with time consuming details. A salutary lesson for the likes of Messrs Kulasinghe and Chandrasena. Pity that such templates were not available nor advance briefings were given, as far as I was aware in 1970s for high level officers.

It was the unlikely event of Nath appearing that gave away my identity. For Kulasinghe, I was the peon, even though the circumstances leading to the conclusion was a series of coincidences. However, I had no qualms about carrying the briefcase for the man. Respect towards Kulasinghe came naturally to all who worked with him.

In essence Kulasinghe, an engineer of repute, was responsible for training and producing many a capable engineer, technical officer and quantity surveyor. These professionals are now spread around the world. Raising professionalism was Kulasinghe’s gift to the country of his birth and the unintended benefit to the world. The departure of professionals were primarily due to a combination of factors; performance of the politicians, ethnic unrest and lack of economic progress being the top three.

Postscript

SEC was a semi-government organization and the premier

construction body in Ceylon/Sri Lanka in the 1970s. All rolled into one, SEC was the planner, designer, project manager and contractor of major building projects for the government. All these being done internally created efficiencies and provided a sound training ground for youngsters like me.

At the same time being a semi-government agency there were some bureaucratic and financial inefficiencies which resulted in cost blow ups on many projects that SEC undertook. Kulasinghe left in 1972, with Nath taking over the dual responsibility of Chairmanship of SEC in addition to his permanent secretarial duties.

All mentioned in this story, the first part of which appeared last week, have passed on except me.

• Dayantha Wijeyesekera passed away in 2023. He lived in Sri Lanka and became the Chancellor of the Open University. Prior to his posting, he was the Professor of Civil Engineering at University of Moratuwa and subsequently its Vice Chancellor. An achiever who contributed immensely to progress the educational sector.

• Brahman Sivaprakasapillai was responsible for designing and installing the sewerage pumping systems for the newly built Mahiyangana Hospital. After the communal clashes of 1983 he migrated to USA contributing to our brain drain. He retired after a career at the UN in New York where he lived till his passing away in 2021. During winter and for six months from November he moved to his other home in sunny Florida.

• Kamal Nathan left around 1973 and is retired after being an Associate Professor at a University in Singapore.

• David Gunasekera worked for the Department of Housing in Canberra having left the country in mid 70s.

• Importantly, Gunapala from Gampaha got a transfer to another Corporation nearer his home and subsequently a promotion to be chief peon.

• Sirisena, I understand hedged his bets correctly as his master, the Assistant Personnel Manager in 1970, was subsequently appointed a High Commissioner to many countries under the UNP regimes of Prime Minister and President Ranasinghe Premadasa, who was assassinated in 1992. Sirisena’s master was related to the then President’s wife and as usual “Theory of Relativity” was more important than efficiency. Sirisena served his master and saw the world in the dual capacities of a driver and a house helper at the respective High Commissions.

• What happened to the driver? I have not been able to find out.

• Lucky and I married in 1973 and are still going strong. We have one child, a son.

(Excerpted from the memoirs of Nihal Kodituwakku)

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Features

Coercive laws recipe for future misrule

Published

12 hours ago

2026/10/13

Sahan Weerasooriya

by Jehan Perera

The NPP government is going after powerful figures from the past and present who have engaged in corruption, fraud and criminal activity in a way that no previous government in Sri Lanka has done. Former ministers, politicians and senior state officials are among those facing investigations and legal proceedings. The government has placed before Parliament a document listing 50 cases involving corruption, fraud and other crimes. These include not only financial offences but also cases relating to the Easter Sunday attacks, the killings of Lasantha Wickrematunge and Wasim Thajudeen, the disappearance of Prageeth Ekneligoda and attacks on journalists Keith Noyahr and Upali Tennakoon.

The significance of this effort is that it can demonstrate that nobody is above the law, regardless of political connections or social standing, which will help restore public confidence in institutions that have long been distrusted. It could also recover public resources, improve the investment climate and strengthen the foundations for a more prosperous and just Sri Lanka. When criticised for focusing on the past and not the present, the government position is that these investigations were initiated under earlier governments, particularly between 2015 and 2019, and that it is now allowing investigators to proceed to deal with the backlog without political interference.

But there is an aspect of the government’s approach that is less justifiable. While pursuing past wrongdoing by powerful individuals, it is also advancing a triumvirate of draft laws that could give the state sweeping powers over citizens, organisations and dissent in the present and future. The draft Prevention of Terrorism legislation, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill raise serious questions about the over-centralisation of power. Each of these laws strengthens the powers of the state while weakening the rights and safeguards that protect people from their misuse and thus questions the basic rights of people in democracy where ‘the power of the people is vested in the government’. This is a recipe for future misrule rather than the rule of law. As the well-known saying goes, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Proposed Laws

The real test of system change, for which the government obtained an overwhelming mandate, requires not only a government willing to hold others accountable, but one prepared to subject itself to the same principles of legality, transparency and restraint. The three proposed laws that are particularly important in this regard are the Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill. Each of these draft laws has been presented as serving a legitimate purpose. Preventing terrorism, combating organised crime and ensuring that NGOs do not facilitate money laundering or terrorist financing are proper responsibilities of the state. Sri Lanka has international obligations in these areas, and no responsible government can disregard them. However, the existence of a legitimate objective does not justify every means adopted to achieve it.

The proposed Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill illustrates the problem. Although its definition of terrorism draws on a model developed by a former United Nations Special Rapporteur, the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka has warned that the definition of terrorism extends beyond the model and could bring legitimate political protest, trade union action and civil disobedience within the scope of counter-terrorism legislation. Its concerns also include prolonged detention, inadequate judicial oversight and restrictions on access to legal counsel. These are objections that go to the heart of the relationship between the citizen and the state. The government cannot credibly promise to protect democratic freedoms while creating powers that could be used to restrict them. It is necessary for the government to reassess the draft through transparent consultation and revise provisions that could criminalise legitimate dissent.

The Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill raises similar concerns. It is presented as giving effect to the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organised Crime, which Sri Lanka ratified in 2006. The Centre for Policy Alternatives (CPA) has argued that the convention does not require many of the bill’s provisions. The proposed law extends to a broad range of offences, permits detention orders lasting up to a year, makes confessions to police admissible for purposes of legal evidence, and introduces extensive surveillance powers. A law intended to dismantle criminal networks should not create a parallel system of exceptional powers that could be applied far beyond organised crime. Nor should safeguards developed through years of experience with abuses under the Prevention of Terrorism Act be weakened through legislation bearing a different name. The government should review whether or not existing laws could be used effectively to control these crimes or whether each exceptional power is necessary.

Civil Society

The proposed NGO Registration and Supervision Bill presents another test of the government’s intentions. The government may reasonably seek transparency in the finances of organisations receiving public or foreign funds, including measures to prevent money laundering and terrorist financing. It seeks to justify its overreach on the grounds of meeting the internationally mandated requirements of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) for the Asia-Pacific region. But these objectives do not justify placing civil society and NGOs under excessive administrative control when even the FATF ranks them as low to medium risks. The draft bill would require registration and renewal, impose extensive obligations on organisations and empower authorities to suspend or deregister them on broadly framed grounds. It is important to redraft provisions that confer excessive discretion over registration, renewal, suspension and deregistration of NGOs.

Among the concerns raised by United Nations human rights special rapporteurs with regard to the draft NGO law are provisions requiring organisations to align with government policies and restrictions that could affect advocacy, dissent and freedom of association. The implications extend well beyond organisations that engage directly with the government. Community groups, human rights organisations, independent researchers and organisations working on reconciliation or accountability could find their activities constrained by uncertainty over how these provisions might be interpreted. Organisations that criticise government policies are not thereby working against the country. Their freedom to do so is part of what distinguishes a democracy from a system in which the government determines which opinions and activities are acceptable.

The government has generated considerable public goodwill through its pursuit of corruption and criminality. It should not assume that this goodwill gives it an unlimited mandate to strengthen the coercive powers of the state. The NPP knows from its own history that governments can treat dissent as a threat and use the machinery of the state against their opponents. There is still time to correct the drafts through transparent public consultation, narrow definitions of offences, meaningful judicial control over detention and surveillance, and effective remedies against arbitrary decisions. A government that pursues corruption while weakening safeguards against state abuse risks undermining its own achievements. Besides bringing to light the abuse of power by previous governments, the NPP government needs to build a system in which no future government can abuse power in the belief they can get away with it.

Features

Quality assurance without quality enhancement: The irony of university QA

Published

12 hours ago

2026/10/13

Sahan Weerasooriya

By Ramya Kumar

According to the Quality Assurance Council (QAC) of the University Grants Commission (UGC), quality assurance (QA) refers to “the means (i.e. the policies, attitudes, actions, procedures, etc.), by which an institution can guarantee with confidence and certainty, that the standards and quality of its educational provision are being maintained and enhanced”.

An expansive structure has been in place since 2005 to govern and implement QA processes within the state university system. The QAC is the focal point at the UGC that implements external reviews of state universities and institutes. Each university has its own Centre for Quality Assurance (CQA) tasked with performing QA in line with QAC directives. Faculties, in turn, have Internal Quality Assurance Cells (IQAC) performing their own QA; they are answerable to the CQA.

The big question is whether this all-encompassing top-down QA system, that in many ways undermines the internal dynamics of university governance, actually supports universities to enhance the quality of education. This article highlights some concerns.

Top-down check-box activities

The QAC conducts external reviews of universities and degree programmes. A review team appointed by the UGC (who may or may not have experience in the institution/programme in question) examines the self-evaluation report submitted by the said institution/programme. The team then conducts a site visit to verify the claims made in the university’s self-evaluation report, clarify issues identified during the desk review, and examine how QA procedures operate in practice. The team holds meetings with the university administration, members of the Council and Senate, Deans, Heads of Departments, academic and non-academic staff, students, and others. Following the visit, a draft report is submitted to the relevant institution/programme for comment before final publication. The reviewed institution/programme then prepares and publishes an action plan addressing the recommendations, with subsequent monitoring of progress.

There are some worthy QA initiatives under implementation, such as improving facilities for students with disabilities and strengthening mechanisms to address sexual- and gender-based violence. However, for the most part, QA activities have little to do with improving the quality of education. They are mostly preoccupied with monitoring faculty and department websites, digital transformation, student feedback, subject evaluation, course evaluation, peer evaluation, and, more recently, staff appraisal. These activities, which consume an inordinate amount of time—so precious at understaffed universities—have become check-box activities completed to generate evidence for the next review. Below is an excerpt of a conversation between two academics (1 and 2) that conveys how QA plays out at universities (reproduced with permission).

1: … .it’s like social media you know, like posting things on Facebook or twitter or Instagram. When people do a lot of social media, everything they do, they do thinking, “okay I’m going to post it in this way… this I have to put on my Instagram.” QA is a little like that… everything is considered in light of, “ah we can use this for the review, as evidence… for example very recently we were encouraged to have all the things that we do in our department in the faculty newsletter so then they can put in the review. Every little thing has to be noted down….

2: And with pictures and all…

1: At the very least it has to be written so that you have written evidence .. you can’t be doing something for the sake of doing something or because it is good for the department … and sometimes people tell me “oh yea that’s a good idea we can fit that under this x, y section of the review..”

2: Yea, and nobody really thinks about the actual outcome… whether it’s actually helping anyone..

1: I also find that a lot of the words that we used in different ways have now been co-opted to the QA discourse ..including quality.. I can’t actually say what I want as an “outcome”, for example, that the outcome of this workshop is that my students “think about” … then I am told “ah but no that’s not one of the Bloom’s taxonomy words, “think about”.…

2: And the worst part is these medical and agriculture people, these types of people go around spreading it like some kind of gospel!

1: Yea, this cookie cutter way of doing things, they think is the height of innovativeness or creativity, when actually it is so mundane … for me the most awful thing about it is like some fungus of mundanity has taken over through QA reviews.

2: yea, when you say QA, my mind closes off immediately and I stop listening…

Auditing everything but power

QA leaves out crucial aspects of university governance. For instance, there is no review or assessment of the “quality” of university administrations under Criterion 1 or the integrity of procedures governing the promotion of academic staff under Criterion 6 of the institutional reviews.

The majority in the Council—the university’s executive and governing body, which is responsible for selecting the Vice-Chancellor (VC)—are appointed in ad hoc fashion. Apart from the Ex-Officio members in the Council (VC, Deans, etc.), and the two members elected by the Senate, the remainder are appointed by the UGC with no formal consultation or vetting procedure. The VC appointment process described in UGC Circular No. 03/2023 exemplifies how an ostensibly technical process can become entangled in political sycophancy. The Registrar invites applications for the position of VC through advertisement. Applicants must submit a curriculum vitae, a statement of vision for the university and supporting documents. The University Council appoints a three-member Search Committee of senior academics to encourage “eminent persons” to apply, while the UGC appoints a former VC from another university to “observe” the selection process.

A Special Meeting of the University Council is convened. Candidates are interviewed and must make a presentation to the Council Members, followed by questions. Each Council member “gives marks” for seven prescribed criteria: strategic focus (20%), effective leadership (20%), holistic thinking/conceptual skills (10%), academic and research excellence (15%), personal integrity (10%), professional communication (10%) and managerial competence (15%). Marks are averaged, and the Council recommends three candidates to the UGC in rank order. The UGC-appointed observer separately submits a confidential report on the selection process.

This procedure is expected to guarantee quality, but does it? Applications are submitted to the Council Members, who have been appointed on questionable bases, and who are expected to review the applications and give scores, based on objective assessments. But, in reality, most Council Members are manipulated by VC candidates, who often have personal ties with them. The UGC-appointed observer usually has no genuine interest in the outcome. And there is no way for anyone to actually question the Council’s decision once it is made. Although the highest-ranked candidate may ultimately be appointed, the selection remains a political decision made by the President, who retains the discretion to appoint any one of the three.

External reviews also do not look into the promotions of academic staff, except to scrutinise whether there are policies and procedures in place to govern promotion. Academic staff may apply for promotion to Professor once they satisfy the prescribed eligibility requirements, which typically include the period of service, academic qualifications, research and publication achievements, teaching experience, and contributions to the university and wider community. Applications are evaluated against specified criteria, with research output and academic contributions assessed through documentary evidence and expert evaluation. Under the UGC’s scheme for Professors, two experts from outside the applicant’s institution assess specified aspects of research and knowledge dissemination. Again, beneath this technical process, which is externally evaluated, lies a problematic points-based scheme that can be manipulated and abused with impunity.

Rethinking university QA

Like the VC election process and the schemes of promotion for academic staff, QA reviews are open to manipulation. Before a review, there is a chaotic rush to complete evidence gathering and reporting. Academics leave all other work aside, including at times their teaching, to focus on completing documentation and preparing reports. The standardised criteria in the review manuals and scoring sheets often do not reflect differences in disciplines and institutional contexts. But this does not really matter because any serious problems experienced by institutions or programmes are hastily brushed under the carpet to conceal any evidence that could taint the review. The goal is to obtain an A or at least a B grade at whatever cost.

QA may result in positive change if it moves beyond top-down check-box activities towards internally designed and owned processes encompassing all aspects of university governance, led by departments and faculties, and supported by adequate resources. The current QA system needs to be dismantled and replaced by procedures that are accountable, not to the UGC, but to our students and the communities we serve.

(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna)

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

Features

Down Memory Lane — the Grand 20th Edition!

Published

12 hours ago

2026/10/13

Sahan Weerasooriya

Down Memory Lane: Ready to sing again

Yes, Down Memory Lane, the beloved Sing-Along concert series that first struck a chord, way back in 1997, returns for its landmark 20th edition this Saturday, 17th October, at the beautiful Bolgoda Grand Resort, Moratuwa town centre.

Having celebrated its glorious 25th anniversary with the show in 2023, this milestone 20th concert promises to be even more special.

The organisers, the ever-popular Moratuwa Arts Forum, are pulling out all the stops to present yet another unforgettable evening, brimming with camaraderie, fellowship, and pure nostalgia.

Get ready for two-and-a-half hours of non-stop singing as veteran vocalists, from the Moratuwa Arts Forum, will take the stage to lead and inspire the happy audience to sing, sing and sing to their hearts’ content.

The repertoire? Absolutely magical, according to the organisers.

Veteran Arun Dias Bandaranaike: Will handle the evening’s proceedings / Priya Peiris: Event Conceptor

Around 40 golden oldies — from timeless English vintage evergreens and hits from the 50s to the 90s, to toe-tapping calypsos, soulful American plantation melodies, rousing cowboy and Dixieland favourites, aa well as cherished Sinhala standards. All to be sung with much gusto!

This year’s dedicated organising committee comprises Brian Coorey (Chairman), Priya Peiris (Event Conceptor), Hiran Fernando, Suranga Fernando, Viranjan Perera, Hemka Fernando and Neelesh Silva. Guidance and support comes from Moratuwa Arts Forum President Sarana Guneratne and Secretary Chandani Silva.

Adding his signature charm to the evening, as Master of Ceremonies, will be the veteran Arun Dias Bandaranaike.

Don’t miss this landmark celebration of music and memories!

For further details, contact Hiran Fernando on 0772636446 or WhatsApp 0783636446.