Midweek Review

The Gift of Music:Sons and Fathers

Published

3 years ago

2023/05/10

Sahan Weerasooriya

Kanthi with baby Mala.

a film by Sumathy – Part II

by Laleen Jayamanne

There is a recurrent discussion among the film industry personnel in the film about the desirability of ‘originality’ in Sinhala music and also in films, which translates as the need to abandon copying Indian genre films or anything Indian for that matter. One opposing view interrogates the possibility of originality itself, asking ‘what is originality? Are we original?’ Yet another view is expressed by Upul Shantha Sannasgala, in favour of anything that creates box office success, citing the triangular plot of his new film which describe exactly the outrageously plotted, sexist film, Samiya Birindage Deviyaya (The Husband is the Wife’s God,) with the leading star and singer, Rukmani Devi and its arch villain, Domi Jayawardena. The desirability of nationalising the film industry and the creation of ‘our’ studios (meaning with Sinhala ownership, breaking the Tamil monopoly) is also expressed as the racial tensions outside reaches a critical point, when several army officers are killed by the LTTE near Jaffna and kindling the State terror of July 83. When Rex is put on the spot by friends and asked for his views on politics, he says he doesn’t know anything about politics and all he knows is music, adding that music has no race or country, while Sannasgala comes to his defence with; ‘Master is music, music is master!’

Writing or Drawing a Character

In the world’s oldest film school in the former Soviet Union (USSR), there was a practice of getting the students to first draw their characters and ideas on paper before writing with words. The teachers who devised the practice knew that drawing a line, as in a line drawing, would activate a mental process different from writing using words. Highly experienced mentors like Mikael Romm practiced this pedagogy with his students, one of whom was Andre Tarkovsky. The stimulation of the student’s imagination and extra-linguistic sensory powers was one of their aims. It is said that he urged his students to reach into their ‘darkness’ so that they might be able to find a way to speak, find a ‘language’. He protected his students from the communist thought police. Honouring this process of teaching and learning, as I try to do also in my writing, I like to resist asking a director why s/he did such and such, a sad and intellectually feeble resort. Such blunt questions blunt one’s own imaginative capacity to make multi-sensory connections, especially when it’s about cinema. Lucky’s haunting question ‘Appa, what language?’ requires a critic to become self-reflexive about how she uses linguistic-language in writing on film, which doesn’t behave like language as such. As Pasolini rather impatiently pointed out (to the eminent semiologists, including Roland Barthes, at the Pesaro Film Festival) that unlike language with its denotative, finite number of words, there is no dictionary of images we can draw on for film and nor are words similar to images.

So, it’s best not to ask directors what they meant either, because when trying to write a book on his cinema, I once asked Kumar Shahani why an ‘epic persona’ in his film did something, he said ‘I don’t know.’ Was he being a Zen Master, I wondered, a bit taken aback. But then chatting with him I realised the truth of what he was saying, that sometimes artists make their characters do stuff in such a way that it is fruitless to try to find out the motivation for an action, as though every act is a perfectly rationally explainable response to a stimulus, like Pavlov’s poor dog, salivating at the ring of a bell. Some artists want to be able to sustain a degree of freedom in their thinking, that is, keep that which is barely consciously sayable, especially to themselves (at three o’clock in the morning, as they say in the Blues) in a shadowy subconscious state. They might feel its necessity, without being able to put it into words and not even wanting to do so, as it might kill their evanescent impulses. Artists are creatures who trust their impulses and fluctuating sensations trying to harness them in a disciplined and skilled way, lest they get derailed, overwhelmed by their surfeit. But then, I believe that it’s a critic’s responsibility to think about what one sees and hears and feels by posing questions that might open up a train of thought for oneself at first. This is not like revealing hidden meanings, but rather, understanding how something works or doesn’t, its aesthetic logic and feelings, pulses, and how they might connect with some other thing through a style of writing, hoping that readers themselves might take it yet in another unforeseen direction.

sivamohan’s main characters, Rex, Kanthi, Lucky and the quiet Mala, are created and act in such a way that not all their feelings are transparent, nor are all their motivations explained or even explainable. They have an interiority we can sense but to which we don’t have a privileged access and I suspect that the director also might feel that about the people she has created. This may sound strange as sivamohan has said that she modelled Rex, in part, on Rocksamy’s history in the film industry and that Lucky was modelled on the well-known musician Anthony Surendra, the son of Master Anthony, himself a musician. That they have in various ways suffered greatly as Tamils in the film and music industry is an important fact, which sivamohan builds on, with some of the best dialogue I have ever heard in the Sinhala cinema, for sure. And I am thinking here especially of the serious ‘Civil-War Films’ by some of our most talented, senior filmmakers. Some of them have crafted a new ‘anthropological type’ it would seem, with the silent, traumatised young Tamil women doggedly following former soldiers without uttering a word. Here, I don’t wish to comment on these films except to say that they appear to have constructed ‘The Tamil Woman’ as an enigma in her silence. Why Sinhala male directors are drawn to create such figures is something the Sinhala cinephiles and critics themselves should really take up, making a sustained study of the films, especially because now, sex, whether consensual or coercive as in rape, is permitted on the screen by the National Censorship Board.

sivamohan does assiduous ethnographic research for drawing her characters, but they are not Bio-Pics of these particular artists and nor are they phantasmatic figures, but appear to be composites of several real persons in the film and music industries. Hers is not the problem of ‘Realism in the cinema,’ which codes expression in the three-act drama I referred to earlier, and which Stefan Brecht (cited at the beginning) rejects. Within the known historical discrimination suffered by the Tamils of Lanka, sivamohan (who has lived through civil war years both in Jaffna and the South and lost a sister and close friends to it), has created her characters themselves with a degree of opacity, with regard to their subjectivity (reminiscent of Robert Bresson’s Models) but none of them is enigmatic. For me, this is part of the charm and subtlety of these characters who form a multi-ethnic Lankan family. The different ways in which Kanthi and Lucky sing the same song, his ‘mother’s song’, adds a rich affective density to their characters and the ballad-like song itself. Rex at first seemed the simplest, the most transparent, with his open smile, and yet gradually he too becomes much more complex, dark (as he faces direct racist violence), lashing out at those closest to him in despair as his soul is destroyed.

‘Ammi, did he kill her to stop the music?’

Rex and Kanthi

Shamala Kumar (in her hauntingly personal account in the island), on seeing Sons and Fathers with Malin her thirteen-year-old son, tells us that he kept asking her questions loudly while watching the film, to which she had to say ‘I don’t know.’ She says that about the many incomprehensible events of racialised violence shown, including the burning of the film director Venkat in his car. Later at home Malin had asked his mother, ‘did he kill her to stop the music?’ The mother comments on her child’s thoughtful question saying, it was as though he was pleased to be able to piece together a tentative reason for why Lucky fired that shot in a movie theatre. Lucky had come to a cinema where the film of the opening song and dance sequence is repeated in colour, this time round showing us an utterly absorbed audience in a few shots. Lucky, standing at the back of the theatre appears to take a gun out and point it at the screen. Though no gun is visible, we infer that it is one because we see the familiar gesture (seen in countless Westerns and Gangster films), hear the shot and see the dancer on the screen falling down. Some viewers rise up in consternation, one which we share. The reverse shot cuts to a close-up of the bleeding singer who appears to be ‘real,’ rather than a projected image, but films can wound us, make us cry as in life. The next cut shows a singular image, a painterly shot of a splash of red on a white surface. The entire series of shots are hard to make clear sense of, hence the child’s considered question to his mother. It is a puzzle for me as well, because it doesn’t quite compute as a sensory-motor action, say, as a shot fired in a gangster film would be. Usually such a generic shot is clearly motivated, the gun essential to the action as are the hero and villain. I feel a bit like Malin, baffled and startled by that scene. And each time I try to work out how it works, it slips away but returns to me unwittingly just as I drift off into sleep. I feel I can’t quite compute it. But slowly I was able to see why it’s a scene that troubles the mind in a manner quite different from the horrific sequence of the burning of Venkat in his car.

Through this comparison, it dawned on me that sivamohan shifts planes of action and composition (in all three of her films), at certain critical violent moments. She plays with fire; there is the burning tea bush in Ingirunthu which does not turn to ash, and in A Single Tumbler, the single metal tumbler catches fire in the microwave, a truly disturbing, scary image. The fire power of Lucky’s gun shot is slightly different, but all three instances shift gear, so to speak. They do something which impels our minds (if receptive like that of a child), to return to the scene repeatedly. What is it about these sivamohan scenes that make our minds to return to them irresistibly? They are not played out on a clear realist spatio-temporal plane, though these films have a precise sense of historical space/time.

On a meta-cinematic plane, Sivamohan is paying tribute to the process of Montage which created the magical appearances and disappearances, what Eisenstein called, the defining cinematic act of the medium of film. These singular scenes puzzle the mind because their violence is not like the realistically presented violence of say, burning a man alive or the mass destruction of buildings and property with fire. The violence of shooting at the image of the dancer (but not the flesh and blood actor/dancer), enacts a form of ‘counter-violence,’ as response to the normalised violence of racism, exploitation, torture and murder, which we have become all too familiar with as Lankans (we hear a victim of the pogrom say, ‘last time we lost all’). How many more times will history repeat itself with such horrific violence, one wonders.

A beautiful scene honours actual persons from the film industry, the editor Aliman (a Muslim), with his old editing machine to cut (the now obsolete) celluloid film, expertly handling the film, searches for the 28 missing shots with the director Siva (a Tamil). These two men from the film industry, with their dry humour, were well known personnel who did pass away quite poor.

Allegory as Counter-Violence

There is a large body of philosophical and programmatic writing on revolutionary- violence in anti-imperialist national struggles, as a form of ‘counter-violence.’ I am trying to use the idea differently though, not by citing chapter and verse from, say Lenin’s What is to be Done, or Che Guevara, beloved of the JVP of the April ‘71 rebellion. Rather, I want to understand the precise imaginative ways in which the shooting of the dancer has been staged allegorically, rather than realistically, which I would argue to be an ethico-aesthetic decision by sumathy in her film, which is also about the State sponsored pogrom against the Tamils in July 83.

sumathy’s allegorical scenes are not cliches that she whips up to resolve her films when the situation becomes unendurable, when the violence reaches a level of horror and ‘The Scream’ appears to be the only expression available. It’s the internal dynamics of the fascist violence of the State and of reactive terrorism of the LTTE which is displaced in the movie theatre, with an allegory of cinematic violence, countering the sure-fire ingredients of ‘Action, Sex and Violence’ (mentioned as desirable by a producer in the film), as ingredients of exciting marketable films now. The process of countering these violent logics of actions and reactions is linked to how the theatre scene is constructed as an allegory, what I am calling an enactment of ‘counter-violence’ through a film-allegory.

The Lens as A Brush

Godard, when asked once why there is so much blood smeared liberally on his characters, in one of his polemical post 68 experimental films famously snapped back, ‘It’s not Blood, its Red!’ Similarly, the striking splash of red on a white surface (which appears soon after the dancer is shot down bleeding profusely on the floor), punctuates the scene emphatically and calls attention to its minimalist painterly gesture. Why is this striking singular painterly shot inserted there between shots of the bleeding dancer on the ground? A white surface, whether a wall or the screen itself is not visible there in the theatre. We have heard Lucky being repeatedly called a ‘tiger cub,’ even by his best friend and the other Sinhala musicians refuse to work with him as the suspicion against all Tamil young men as potential terrorists intensifies in the South.

This trend reaches a peak when his ‘girl-friend’ Champa, on hearing Lucky sing his ‘mother’s song (Tharaka Hanga) at the club, asks him what it is and if he would teach it to her. Like the sweetly naive person he is, he agrees gladly. But instead of waiting, Champa goes to Lucky’s house and learns the song directly from his mother herself. As he returns home they meet unexpectedly at his door and sees her guile when she tells him that she is off to India to be trained as a singer. As she walks away Lucky shouts out her; ‘My father is not a Terrorist. I am a Terrorist. I will carry the Tamil newspaper gladly.’ His mother has previously warned Rex not to be seen carrying a Tamil newspaper. The sense of the crescendo of Lucky’s surprising outburst is muted as it’s a Tamil newspaper which he thinks to carry, not a weapon of choice for a terrorist of any ethnicity! It’s the repeated branding of Lucky as a terrorist by his peers which makes his persona as a ‘terrorist’ in the movie theatre credible. There, Lucky is presented as an actor in the ‘film within the film,’ who acts out an allegorical scene of shooting at an image. Because, if he is an actor playing a Terrorist, then his sole imperative is that he must kill. But if it’s an allegorical action, then the question as to motivation can have no realist answer. The splash of blood-red on the pristine white screen is a sensuous abstract image of ‘pure’ violence, enabled by Lucky’s equally abstracted gesture of shooting an image with an imaginary gun, in the film within the film Sons and Fathers that we have been watching for over an hour by then. So, I read the entire scene of Lucky shooting the dancer and the audience watching it, as a film-within-a-film (a meta-film) crystalising, in an abstract image of violence, the discussions on the need for racial and cultural purity, also encoded in the song Jaya Pita Deas. The sonic montage, the contradiction between the hybrid image and sound, and between images themselves, is the kind of sequence which Eisenstein called ‘Intellectual-Montage.’ They cut across the compartmentalised brain. These conceptually sophisticated audio-visual montage techniques, stimulating feelings and thoughts all at once, would have been why Sons and Fathers received the prize for music, at the Jaipur International Film Festival in 2019.

The different views expressed about Sinhala cinema and the desirability of ‘cultural purity’ appears as an open question here. Historically, these questions were resolved in favour of the Nationalisation of the film industry according to the recommendation of the Royal Commission into the Lankan Film Industry in the 1960s. The examination of the successes and problems of that policy, in the creation of a ‘truly national (Sinhala) cinema’ by instituting the State Film Corporation of Lanka, is best left to historians. But the question of whether the significant new national cinema, created in its wake, also ignored Lanka’s ethnic minorities from the desired national identity, is also one for our film critics to worry over. The allegorical gesture of Lucky, shooting down the film image, in the guise of a Sinhala persona allegorised as a Tamil Terrorist, still remains tantalising to my mind despite what I’ve written here. But we Sinhala critics will learn much, I believe, through serious scholarship and critical writing on Lankan cinema and exploring how sumathy’s cinematic project might be theorised within its dynamics. Such work will require interrogating the long-standing (taken for granted) Sinhala idea of sanguine ‘generational change’ among talented men, because ‘history’ is not a natural event.

The Mother’s Song and its Loss

Towards the very end of the film we see Rex, Kanthi and their daughter absorbed in something on their TV. For the first time we see them in large close-ups (rare in this film), while the camera tracks between them, bringing each of them very close to us. A cut to the TV reveals Champa singing Lucky’s ‘mother’s song’ with orchestration, in a polished, well trained, sweet voice, dressed tastefully in a matching sari and blouse, producing the requisite well-rehearsed gestures and artfully-wistful smiles for the camera. What we have heard and seen so far is of this song’s unusual circulation from a mother to a son whose childhood was nourished by his mother singing it often. We see its social circulation when Kanthi is invited to sing a song by her guests who appreciate her voice and the song. She sings with ease and grace, dressed now in an Indian sari, wearing a pottu and her knee length hair in a single braid. But we also hear the song at intense moments of fear and sadness, as when Kanthi sings it to herself after having looked at a photo album. But on the television it appears as a song ‘stolen’ from the family by Champa, without a thought for royalties, having violated something above and beyond the provenance of a song. As the threesome watch Champa’s polished performance of their own song, Kanthi begins to mouth it silently, while Rex looks on utterly bereft but still beating time to the song he composed for his beloved wife, while the camera rests on Mala who looks straight at us for the first time, as the shot ends. Was she angry I wondered, trying to read her contained intense expression. The careless, cool ease with which Champa becomes a professional singer and sings the song publicly contrasts starkly with a singular rendition of it by Lucky. While in his bedroom (with a blurred poster of John Lennon on his wall), Lucky spits out a snatch of Rock music, but in the club, he sings his mother’s song almost to himself, in a caressing whisper, before the band has to strike a ‘Happy Birthday’ with the sound of breaking glass in the distance; a complex sequence in montage.

Lucky is presented as a tender, generous and most vulnerable young man, and through his allegorisation as The Terrorist, at the movie theatre, we might be able to see how even such a person may become a ‘terrorist,’ cornered, crushed, with avenues for professional movement all blocked for him and his family. In doing this the director makes an exemplary figure of a Lankan artist whose cultural heritage is mixed, hybrid, not monoculturally pure. It’s nothing to do with his ‘pure blood’ (Sinha-ley,) but rather a matter of access to learning, fair opportunity and a shared understanding of a rich multi-cultural world (including India), open to the outside world. That it is a Sinhala actor who is personified as a Tamil Terrorist (who in his actual life sings in Tamil), is significant, because some of that brutalising process is ‘demonstrated’ through the political device of allegory. There is no ‘conversion’ of Lucky into a Terrorist because we see both Lucky and the persona of the Terrorist in his gesture of shooting at an image, with an invisible gun. In the movie theatre, he is not a symbol or a metaphor, but functions as an allegorical body. Allegory makes us see double, and stays with the unresolved duality, and lets it trouble us, as it did Malin and me. That splattered red on white appears as both blood and some red paint, and the white background both a movie screen and a pure white surface, both at once. Such a mode of allegorical viewing goes against our habitual and ingrained ways of consuming films.

Some of us, who have spent all our working lives teaching film and have also grown-up watching lots of all kinds of films (in a long-ago vanished Ceylon in my case) believe that when it’s time to take leave, the Angel of Death will arrive and give us a chance to see just two film clips one last time. Now, I will unhesitatingly choose Dharmasena Pathiraja’s film Ponmani, made with his Tamil friends, while he was teaching Sinhala literature and Media Studies at the Jaffna University in the ‘70. It’s the haunting funeral procession of Ponmani, with her coffin in a horse-drawn glass carriage, led by a slender man in shorts, filmed in a formal long-shot against a lagoon and an expanse of sky, with her father walking alone some distance away from the mourners, as his Vellala family was estranged from her. For having violated caste taboos, she was shot dead by a killer hired by her betrothed, as she came out of a church with her new kin group. The Karnataka song we had heard sung repeatedly, by a group of seated female singers (about longing for Krishna to appear), plays across this desolate shot one last time.

The other clip is of the seemingly every-day banal high-angle-shot of the family of three walking towards us on a railway platform. In long to medium shots from Sons and Fathers, we see Rex, Kanthi and Lucky as a boy, walking between them carrying small suitcases of their possessions. The couple has just got married at a registry (with minimal formality, with just four smiling in-laws) and are coming home to live with Rex. Kanthi is dressed in a Kandyan sari and Rex has long curly hair tied at the back. Seeing that shot of the threesome, who are being observed by an adult Lucky leaning on a railway bridge (a pensive ‘recollection image’), it becomes an iconic shot for Sinhala cinema, suggestive in its promise of rich potential for our art and much else. Variations of this shot, of them climbing the long steps of the station, are repeated several times like the refrain of Lucky’s beloved mother’s song.

sumathy wrote the lyrics for two of the four songs in the film. Vantharu Vanthachu (‘He is coming’ with apocalyptic events of bombs destroying the earth, elephants in trees, wrapped in a love song), is sung in Tamil. The Mother’s Song, written in English, is translated for the film by Amarakeerthi Liyanage, a Professor of Sinhala and a specialist in Comparative Literature. Anthony Surendra, the Tamil music director of the film, wrote, composed and sang My Heart (Ma Hade) in the film at a recording studio and is the song Kanthi hums to Rex’s accompaniment at the keyboard (and also to an infant Kamala), in a most unusual romantic scene. When asked, sumathy said that she was thinking of Desdemona’s Willow Song while writing what she calls ‘The Mother’s Song’ for the film. The Shakespearean ballad was given to Desdemona by her mother who had received it from her maid. She makes a significant change in her song, the ‘betrayal’ there is no longer sexual as in the original folk ballad sung by Desdemona before Othello kills her in a fit of jealousy. But in the film, it becomes Champa’s thoughtless, cunning betrayal of Lucky and his mother.

The way Sumathy presents Rex Periyasami, Mudiyanselage Kanthilatha, Lakshman and Mala as a multi-ethnic family, makes one feel that they will survive the fire that set Lanka ablaze then, stronger in the essential values that bind them together, but no doubt at great cost to their livelihoods and futures, in creating the hybrid music, their very life-blood, which Kanthi says emphatically, ‘saved them’. Sumathy’s Sons and Fathers is her poetic tribute to those values that bind that family and the ethnically diverse Lankan popular film and music industry where those values also flourished, once.

However, Malin’s singular question to his mother, and Mala’s last look to the camera, perhaps of anger, make an old critic like me imagine that they must be big by now. And in so doing, I hear faintly Rukmani Devi singing, ‘mavila penevi rupe hade …swapneya chaya …’ (in my heart emerges a dream-image … of life) as I fall asleep, perchance to dream. (Concluded)

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Midweek Review

NPP drowning in sea of scams

Published

7 days ago

2026/04/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

Outgoing Treasury Chief Mahinda Siriwardena congratulates his successor Harshana Suriyapperuma in late June 2025 at the Finance Ministry

The Opposition is pressing for a one-day debate on USD 2.5 mn Treasury theft, which is more like a daylight robbery that had been kept under wraps by Treasury mandarins till ‘Free Lawyers’ made it public. However, the government is strongly opposed to the Opposition proposal. The Opposition is seeking consensus among

different parties to intensify the campaign against the government, struggling to cope up with a spate of controversies. Against the backdrop of the devastating debate on the coal scam, the NPP seems reluctant to face another over the theft of Treasury funds.

By Shamindra Ferdinando

USD 2.5 mn brazen heist at the Treasury several months ago and the bigwigs there obviously dragging their feet over the matter till it was brought to light recently, thanks to the Free Lawyers movement, which has dampened the NPP’s enthusiasm for May Day. The Treasury fiasco humiliated the cocky NPP leadership against the backdrop of damning report issued by the National Audit Office (NAO) that found fault with the government for awarding the coal tender for 2025/2026 period to Trident Champhar Limited of India in violation of tender procedures. The NAO emphasised that the Indian company shouldn’t have even been considered for the tender.

Even after the exposure of the scandalous handling of the coal tender, the NPP, in spite of some rumblings within the party, remained confident of overcoming the growing accusations regarding governance issues. But, the sudden revelation of the loss suffered by the Treasury, and pathetic efforts made by the NPP to suppress the truth, has caused irreparable harm to the ruling party. The arrogant NPP will have to use May Day to defend the government. Instead of preaching to the masses ad nauseum the corruption allegations against previous administrations, the NPP would have to explain such massive failures/corruption, particularly the loss of USD 2.5 mn.

There hadn’t been a previous instance of such an incident at the Treasury. The NPP will have to answer questions posed by ‘Free Lawyers,’ a civil society group that first raised the Treasury issue. On behalf of ‘Free Lawyers,’ its President Maithri Gunaratne, PC, former Governor of several provinces Rajith Keerthi Tennakoon, and Attorney-at-Law Shiral Lakthikala, targeted the government over the unprecedented Treasury heist. The Opposition, too, censured the NPP, with SJB leader Sajith Premadasa, MP, Chairman of Public Finance Committee (CoPF) Dr. Harsha de Silva, MP, and United Republican Front (URF) taking the lead.

The NPP’s excuses, based on claimed raids carried out by hacker/hackers targeting the Treasury, are untenable. The NPP’s position cannot be defended or supported against growing criticism. The coal scam and Treasury fiasco dominated social media, with the Opposition, as well as ordinary citizens, having a field day at the expense of the NPP, a political party that accused its opponents of waste, corruption, irregularities and mismanagement. Its successful propaganda campaigns, at the presidential and parliamentary polls, in September and November, 2024, respectively, were centered on fighting corruption.

Their anti-corruption platform appealed to the people for obvious reasons. Against the backdrop of bankruptcy, declared in May, 2022, after failing to meet debt commitments, the electorate rallied around the NPP that thrived on waste, corruption, irregularities and mismanagement, perpetrated by previous governments. Having bagged the executive presidency in September, 2024, the NPP assured the electorate that the Parliament would be cleansed of evils at the general election. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake declared that the people have been vested with the responsibility of cleansing the Parliament. Dissanayake went a step further when he addressed a public gathering at the 18th mile post on the Negombo-Colombo road. The NPP leader, who also leads the JVP, asserted that there was no need for an Opposition in Parliament and the House should be filled with NPPers.

Dissanayake based his assertion essentially on two failed No-Confidence Motions (NCMs) moved against Ravi Karunanayake and Keheliya Rambukwella in 2016 and 2023, respectively. The NPP/JVP leader found fault with Yahapalanaya and the Wickremesinghe-Rajapaksa government for protecting the two wrongdoers, hence the call to cleanse Parliament.

The results of the parliamentary election proved that the electorate responded very favourably to Dissanayake’s call. Of the 225-seat Parliament, the NPP secured 159 seats, including 18 National List slots. Having accused previous governments of shielding wrongdoers, Dissanayake easily directed the NPP’s steamroller parliamentary group to defeat the NCM moved against Energy Minister Punyakumara Dissanayake (National List) on 10 April, just a few days after the NAO report exposed the coal scam.

First ex-MP as Treasury Secy.

If its own hands are clean, there is no doubt that the NPP now deeply regrets the appointment of ex-NPP National List MP Harshana Suriyapperuma as the Secretary to the Treasury and the Finance Ministry. That appointment was made in June 2025 to fill the vacancy created by the retirement of Mahinda Siriwardana who, along with Governor of the Central Bank Dr. Nandalal Weerasinghe, played a significant role in the country’s post-Aragalaya recovery programme.

Suriyapperuma, who had served as Deputy Minister of Finance and Planning for just seven months, before being appointed the Treasury Secretary/Finance Ministry Secretary, is under heavy fire for suppressing the truth. No less a person than CoPF Chairman Dr. de Silva publicly accused Suriyapperuma of trying to undermine his committee. The SJB has demanded Suriyapperuma’s immediate resignation. Dr. Anil Jayantha succeeded as Deputy Minister of Finance and Planning.

Those who inquired into the crisis-hit Treasury are of the belief that 53-year-old Suriyapperuma lacked the much required experience to fill the shoes of Mahinda Siriwardana. Perhaps, the breach at the Treasury could have been averted if an outsider was not brought in place of Siriwardena. The recent reportage of the incident revealed that Suriyapperuma had been aware of the breach and sought to avoid appearing before the CoPF. The NPP could have responded to the developing situation differently if an ex-MP hadn’t been entrusted with the task of steering the Treasury/Finance Ministry. To make matters worse, President Dissanayake holds the Finance portfolio.

Although the government declared that the theft of USD 2.5 mn had been reported to the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) after initial detection made in January this year, controversy surrounds the failure on the part of law enforcement authorities to bring it to the notice of the courts. Maithri Gunaratne, appearing in Hiru last Saturday (25), questioned why the police failed to inform the relevant Magistrate if the government lodged a complaint in that regard.

Australia has confirmed irregularities in payments owed to their government. Regardless of NPP efforts to blame it on hacker/hackers, the truth is clear. Payments have been made to an account that hadn’t been in the original agreement between the governments of Sri Lanka and Australia. That is the undeniable truth that the NPP cannot suppress by propaganda.

The NPP should be ashamed that such a fraud had been perpetrated on a country still struggling to cope up with the economic destruction caused by the UNP- and the SLFP-led governments with the help of “mission impossible” type roles played by outside interests, especially during Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s tenure using the JVP/Aragalaya.

The world knows how the UNP perpetrated the Treasury bond scams with the direct involvement of the then Governor of the Central Bank Arjuna Mahendran, in February 2015 and March 2016. Regardless of that intolerable scam, the UNP made a desperate attempt to retain the services of the Singaporean as the Governor of the Central Bank. Party leader and the then Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe demanded the re-appointment of Mahendran. That despicable move had to be dropped due to massive Opposition protests and growing public discontent over the Treasury bond scams.

The first Treasury bond scam carried out on 27 February, 2015 caused a direct loss of approximately Rs. 2 billion. On the instructions of Mahendran, the Treasury suddenly and arbitrarily changed the process of issuing Treasury Bonds. According to media reports at that time, higher interest payments, over the next 30 years, caused a further loss of around Rs. 145 billion.

Then Mahendran struck again. Caused further direct losses of more than Rs. 4 billion to the government through the fraudulent increase in interest rates as a result of the Treasury Bond issues on 27th March, 2016 ,and 29th March, 2016, in order to provide an undue advantage to connected primary dealers by indulging in further pre-meditated bond scams.

NPP on back foot

The ruling party put on a brave face with lawmakers and various others trying to play down the incident at the Treasury. Some pathetically tried to compare various accusations directed at the Rajapaksas with the incident at the Treasury which they conveniently blamed on hacker/hackers.

The NPP is facing an explosive mixture of issues. Both the coal and Treasury scams have brought immense pressure on the national economy and caused automatic deterioration. The resignation of Punyakumara aka Kumara Jayakody over the coal scam indicated that defeating the NCM moved against him was a strategic political blunder. Had the NPP asked the tainted first time Minister to step down and appoint a Presidential Commission to go into the coal scam, the NPP could have averted a major disaster. However, the Energy Minister and the Energy Secretary Udayanga Hemapala had to resign before the Parliament took up the NCM. Had the top NPP leadership bothered to peruse the executive summary of the NAO presented to Parliament on 7 April, the Party wouldn’t have tried to defend the minister.

Having championed a corruption-free political party system and then won both the presidential and parliamentary polls on that platform, the NPP executed the shocking move to move 323 containers out of the Colombo Port, in January 2025, without even any cursory checks. Those who perpetrated that operation used continuing port congestion as an excuse to clear red-flagged containers without mandatory physical checking. The NPP recently thwarted a bid by Opposition lawmakers, representing a parliamentary committee inquiring into the illegal release of containers, to summon President Dissanayake.

That committee, headed by Justice Minister Attorney-at-Law Harshana Nanayakkara, owed an explanation as to why President Dissanayake, in his capacity as the Finance Minister, shouldn’t appear before a House committee. President Dissanayake very often addresses Parliament on crucial issues. As the Minister in charge of Finance, the President should offer an explanation regarding the high profile container issue that tarnished the NPP’s image.

Three major issues in hand, namely the release of 323 containers, coal scam and theft at the Treasury, regardless of what various apologists say on mainstream and social media, have caused irrevocable damage to the party, let alone escapades involving the likes of Speaker Jagath Wickramaratne, Minister Lal Kantha, etc. The impact on the NPP can be ascertained only at an election. With the public increasingly aware of the growing accusations against it, the ruling party will do whatever possible to put off long delayed Provincial Council elections. Facing the electorate against deepening discontent among the public seems to be a frightening situation. It would be interesting to observe how a House committee, headed by Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath, appointed to explore ways and means to conduct Provincial Council polls, address the issue at hand.

When compared with the three major issues, the resignation of Asoka Ranwala, as the Speaker, in December, 2024, over his failure to produce the much-touted educational qualifications, seems unnecessary. Of course, Ranwala’s case attracted tremendous public attention at that time as the public really believed the NPP wouldn’t deceive them. Ranwala’s lie shocked the public. NPP theoretician Prof. Ranjith Nirmal Dewasiri had no qualms in publicly attacking Ranwala in the wake of the NPP defending the Speaker. But, subsequent NPP actions revealed massive manipulations that shamed the first post-Aragalaya government.

Having accused Ranil Wickremesinghe of squandering as much as Rs 16 mn to join his wife Prof. Maithree in the UK in September, 2023, the NPP has ended up facing far more serious accusations. The incident at the Treasury should be sufficient for the Opposition to move NCM against the government. Of course, the NPP got the numbers in Parliament to easily defeat the NCM but the consequences would be devastating. Those who still talk of recovering the missing USD 2.5 mn must be living in a dreamland. The UNP is labelled with Treasury bond scams (2015 and 2016) and the SLPP faulted with tax cuts (2019) and sugar tax scam (2020). The NPP will have to live with the coal scam and Treasury theft. The NPP will no longer be able to parade on political platforms as paragons of virtue. It would be pertinent to mention that the Presidential Commission appointed to probe the procurement of coal, since 2009, would be able to produce a report to meet the NPP’s expectations. All indications point to that and 2026 is going to be far more challenging, both in and outside Parliament, than the previous year.

NDB fraud

Examined together, the massive fraud at the National Development Bank (NDB), perpetrated during the 2024-2026 period, and the Treasury incident, they underscore the vulnerability of the entire banking system. The 13.2 bn NDB fraud and theft of USD 2.5 mn from the Treasury exposed the regulator, the Central Bank of Sri Lanka, in respect of the NDB. The situation at the NDB cannot be examined without taking into consideration that Ernst & Young is the external auditors of the NDB and its Managing Partner Duminda Hulangamuwa functions as Senior Economic Adviser to President Dissanayake. People haven’t forgotten that Hulangamuwa had been mentioned as the possible successor of Mahinda Siriwardena before the NPP brought in Suriyapperuma. The Central Bank and Securities Exchange Commission (SEC) come under the purview of the Finance Ministry now embroiled in the expanding Treasury fiasco.

The Board of Directors at the NDB consists of Sriyan Cooray (Chairman), Kelum Edirisinghe (Director / Chief Executive Officer (Executive), Bernard Sinniah (Director /Non-Independent), Sujeewa Mudalige (Director /Independent), Kushan D’Alwis (Director/Independent), Kasturi Chellaraja (Director/Independent), Shweta Pandey (Director /Independent), Hasitha Premaratne (Director/Independent), Sanjaya Mohottala (Director (Non-Independent) and Shanil Fernando Director (Independent).

The issue at hand is how such a fraud went unnoticed for a considerable period of time and whether the top management simply ignored warning signs and the failure on the part of the regulator to intervene. Those who have read Mahinda Siriwardana’s ‘Sri Lanka’s Economic Revival: Reflections on the Journey from Crisis to Recovery’ would know the circumstances leading to the 2022 economic collapse. Soft spoken Siriwardana meticulously discussed how the then Central Bank leadership as well as the so-called economic leadership of the Pohottuwa party deliberately deceived President Gotabaya Rajapaksa. Siriwardena’s narrative is explosive. The book, launched before his retirement, with the participation of President Dissanayake, underscored the responsibility on the part of the political leadership and those running the banking system. Obviously Siriwardena’s work had no impact on the current dispensation as well as the top banking management.

The Opposition sees an apparent opportunity to heap pressure on the NPP as it contemplates counter measures. Their challenge is how to take remedial measures without jeopardizing the government. The IMF declaration that it is closely watching the theft of USD 2.5 mn from the Treasury must have added pressure on the government, ripped apart by the situation at the Treasury. Let us hope the government and the Opposition reach consensus on ways and means to improve financial discipline. Overall, the Parliament cannot absolve itself of the responsibility for enactment of laws and ensuring financial discipline and the fact that Sri Lanka needs to start repayment of debt in 2028.

Midweek Review

Is language social or psychological phenomenon?

Published

7 days ago

2026/04/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

This essay was presented at The Philosophy Group of the University of London about 20 years ago. The thought provoking essay published in The Island on 22 April by Usvwatte-aratchi- Some languages confine you; some languages free you prompted me to try to get this essay published if possible. It may help the readers to further their ideas about the importance of usage of language.

Personally, I have firsthand experience in this subject. I was exposed to two different cultures and two languages. In my formative years I was brought up in a certain culture and spoke the language pertaining to that culture/language (Sinhalese -Sri Lanka). I spent all my studying and working life (55 years) using a different language in a different culture (English -England). I must mention that this was not recently. It was the early 1960’s. I can claim that I have enough knowledge and experience to justify this essay topic. In this essay I shall be investigating some of the social aspects of language with the aid of some opinions put forward by some philosophers. Then I shall be making an attempt to see what psychology has to offer before I draw my own conclusions. I am treating social aspects as part and parcel of the culture. In my view these are inseparable entities, unless one chooses to forget his or her cultural upbringing to suit a particular society.

Adoption of different culture

Socially, learning a different language and adopting a different culture is quite possible. In this case what dominates is one’s attitude or the circumstances. Attitude is psychological. I am convinced that circumstances may lead to a change of attitudes. Having said that, we must not forget that there are individuals who have not taken the trouble to learn the language of the culture in which they live. This has created a lot of socio-psychological problems in the community in which they live. It is obvious that the problem is one of communication. The main tool of communication is language. Philosophers and psychologists have spent many years investigating how language helps us to communicate and also how it may lead us to misunderstand our own fellow human beings. Understanding others (family members, members of the community in which we live, and the strangers we meet) is one of the most important aspects of living.

An awareness of the problem of language goes back to the early Greek philosophers. Parmenides gave us the first example of an argument from language to the world, saying that if we speak of a thing it must exist, since we speak of a thing at various times, it must continue to exist in a particular form. It is recently that language itself has come to be studied in a systematic way. The two landmarks in this respect were the development of Linguistics and the philosophy of language in the 20th century. The great philosopher Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) has admitted that until he became a middle-aged man, he did not think about language per se, but regarded it as ‘transparent’. I am sure this is true with most of us although we are not of Russell’s caliber when it comes to philosophy. And one may not have to wait until one reaches one’s middle age.

Linguistics and philosophy of language

It will help us if we understand the difference between Linguistics and philosophy of Language. What linguists discover may be applied to philosophy, sociology, psychology, anthropology or physiology. But as a discipline of study, it remains independent of them. The philosophy of language is different. One of the modern philosophers John Searle (1932-2025) thought, by contrast to linguistics, philosophy tries to solve philosophical problems by analyzing the ordinary use, meaning and relations of words in a particular language. Searle goes on to say that language is crucial to understand human experience. In my opinion this is a very valid comment. At a very practical level we spend a lot of time sharing our experiences. Verbal communication is vital in this area. According to Canadian philosopher Ian Hacking(1936-2023) the influence of language on philosophy has been profound and almost unrecognized. He indicates, if we are not to be misled by this influence, it is necessary to become conscious of it, and to ask ourselves deliberately how far it is legitimate.

It is appropriate to bring in Ludwig Wittgenstein(1889-1951) at this point. He brought in the subject predicate theory of language. For example, if we say “John is king”. Where John is the subject and king is the predicate. Here existence requires substance. For Aristotle, forms do not exist independently of things—every form is the form of something. A “substantial” form is a kind that is attributed to a thing, without which that thing would be of a different kind or would cease to exist altogether. Wittgenstein supports Saint Augustine’s view that words are names of objects and that combinations of words have the sole function of describing reality. For example, if we point at a certain object, say a table and try to say to a child “this is a table”, the child will be confused as to what we are pointing at. Is it the colour, the tabletop or one or more of its legs This is called the ostensive definition method of teaching. Ostensive definitions lead to a variety of interpretations. The child may understand a particular case of this definition but there is no guarantee that she will be able to make a transition from one case to others like it.

Plato’s theory

J G Herder (1744-1803) pointed out the object to which we make reference may be defined by numerous different terms. How then can we justify direct, one to one correspondence-either of so many to one, or of one to so many? How are we going to deal with situations where a term describes something non-existent or only possible? Plato’s “Forms” theory cannot be applied here as anything that we can speak of already exists as a Form. Critics of this theory ask the question: “how can the world be crowded with so many imaginary objects?” We use words to describe and define. Is there any room for slang language? This comes in handy in our day to day social communication. Ostensive definition raises the questions that require a constant selection of what counts as relevant. In Aldous Huxley’s novel Chrome Yellow, the character Old Rowley is confused as to: Does ‘pig’ refer to the quality of having a curly tail? Or standing in rows to eat? Or being pink skinned and fat? Or wearing no clothes? When we use the word “piggishness” is it something inherent to pigs, or simply, a matter of how we choose to describe them?

How can we relate the above ideas and theories of language to our daily living? Daily living is a psychosocial activity.

Perceptions

The nature of language reflects the nature of our perceptions, and these are far from straight forward. Franz Brentano (1838-1917) developed his theory of intentionality: that every mental phenomenon has a relation of direction to its object, i.e. perceptions, desires, imagination etc. are related to what is perceived, desired or imagined. I presume this can be applied to any language irrespective of the culture (our social conditioning). Say for instance the images of art and the writings are given the ability to represent objects by imposing the intentionality on the object. Thus, when we assert that we see or believe something, we impose, by convention and intention, (that is true if and only if it is the case) on the statement, and these conditions are not contained intrinsically in the sounds that make it up, but in our perception of belief about the fact. I begin to wonder how this can be applied to non-physical and unseen situations. Sometimes our feelings and attitudes are unknown to the observer. A person may shout because he is angry but you cannot see the anger, only its physical expression. We will not be able to see the prior event that has led to the anger and the utterance. This shows that there is a limit to how much is revealed simply by observing a word and its context; there is often more than that can be said.

How can we account for unexpected linguistic behaviour? This has both social and psychological implications.

For a long time behavioural theorists believed that every development of the human being was controlled by environmental and social factors. This is similar to an ostensive explanation of meaning. It implied that everything was learnt through training and association. But Noam Chomsky (b.1928) was not happy with this idea. He thought language is a complex phenomenon and which is not taught bit by bit or systematically to infants. It is successfully acquired by (almost) everybody. From my own experience it is true to say that the difficulty in learning a second language is a very different process from that experienced with the first language. Chomsky argued that the first language is not in fact learned, but rather acquired through exposure to a particular language. According to him all languages share the same basic structure, and he called this “deep structure”, which may be expressed as surface structures through a process called ‘transformation’. Chomsky’s theory helps us to assume a universal system of grammar, which may generate an infinite number of particular sentences within a language. This explains how we may create sentences within a language we have never encountered before from a limited set of grammatical rules and this appears to be a rational scientific approach.

Social or psychological phenomenon

The argument/discussion whether language is a social or a psychological phenomenon requires much more investigation than this essay warrants. I have briefly brought in various philosophers’ work, which are invaluable to this topic in terms of philosophy of language. In conclusion I am tempted to state my own experiences as a bi-lingual person. When it comes to my first language, which is Sinhalese I don’t think I learned it. I heard my parents speaking it and I picked up a few words and I constructed my own sentences and gradually became proficient by accumulating more words. Of course, the proper grammatical use of even my own language was taught in school and not by my parents. Learning my second language i.e. English took a different form. I was taught to speak, read, and write English at school and I had to work harder at this than my first language, because my English was confined to the classroom situation only, i. e. I learnt English in a non- English environment. First language came naturally and the second one I had to learn to fit into the social and the education structure that prevailed at that time. Compulsion can motivate us to learn!I had no choice but to adopt myself culturally and linguistically as a university student in England and then as a university teacher in England. Apart from the native English students, I have taught students from different countries. European, African and Asian. I had the opportunity to intermingle with them and learned various different cultural and linguistic aspects. After almost a half a century in England, I am back to my own culture (language, customs, food etc) where I was born and started my life. I am still proficient in my own language Sinhalese. No conscious effort needed.

After all the foregoing arguments and philosophy that I have put forward, my own conclusion is Chomsky’s theories are more plausible to me than other theories on this issue. It is difficult to be exact and say whether language is a social or psychological phenomenon. From the above arguments, we can see that culture and language of a given society are tightly bound. This leads us to psychological adjustments in order to fit into a society. Who can deny that even the philosophers mentioned above have not been subjected to their own cultural environment?

by Prof. Sampath
Anson Fernando
Formerly University of
The Arts London