Features
The JVP-NPP sitting duck and what Rohana Wijeweera got right
Dr. Dayan Jayatilleka
They say, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it is a duck. Well, if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck and sits like a duck, then it is a sitting duck.That’s what the JVP-NPP currently looks like to me in the face of repression by the Ranil regime, which has started to roll.
At a time when the JVP-NPP has grown unprecedentedly, can play an unprecedentedly valuable role and score unprecedented success, it is being simultaneously held back from actualizing its full potential and propelled towards its third disaster by old habits—ghosts as it were—of old errors; errors from its past, combined by the errors of the Sri Lankan left as a whole.
By a dialectical irony, while it is hamstrung by the burdens of past negativity of its history and that of the movement it emanates from, it is also suffering from the absence of the positive aspects of its past, i.e., of throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
INDONESIAN MODEL
Let’s start with the abandoned positives. Rohana Wijeweera was acutely aware of the experiences of the global left even as he chose to ignore some of its lessons. In the founding years of the JVP, he was profoundly affected by the decimation of the huge Indonesian Communist Party (the PKI) headed by DN Aidit. The lesson he and generations of leftists drew from Indonesia and later from Chile was that however enormous and pacifistic a left party was, it was acutely vulnerable to extermination at the hands of a ruthless Right.
The Indonesian experience was of particular import for Sri Lanka, at the time Ceylon, because it featured in an ideological struggle that almost split the UNP government of the day. That struggle played out in the main in Lake House. On one side were Prime Minister Dudley Senanayake, Planning guru Dr. Gamani Corea and his deputy, Godfrey Gunatilleke, who were committed to the mixed economy and the welfare state.
On the other side were Esmond Wickremesinghe (the present President’s father), BR Shenoy and JR Jayewardene who was to abandon this rightwing ideology a decade later and pick the brilliant, left-leaning admirer of Cuba, Ronnie de Mel as Finance Minister in 1977.
Esmond Wickremesinghe applauded the Indonesian coup and the economic model that followed it. His opponent in Lake House was my father Mervyn de Silva who had returned just before the coup from Indonesia where he (accompanied by my mother and me) had been guests of President Sukarno’s foreign minister Dr. Subandrio, at the Afro-Asian Journalists’ conclave celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Bandung conference.
To their credit, the Dudley Senanayake team which was staunchly opposed to the economic doctrine of Esmond and Shenoy, took the stand that “we’d rather spend on social welfare than slash it and have to spend on security”.
The split in the government was ideologically so sharp that Wijeweera fully expected the rightwing to overcome the Dudley Senanayake wing, forestall the election scheduled for 1970, and install the Suharto model that they had been advertising with such vehemence. The mistake that he made was that he underestimated the strength of the progressive and left movement that the fledgling JVP had itself contributed to, which overcame any putschist projects and ensured elections. He had overreacted also by self-defensively arming the JVP to fend off an Indonesian style massacre, and then couldn’t uncoil the coiled spring the party had become, or to decelerate.
That said, a version of Wijeweera’s nightmare of ‘the Indonesian model’ is about to be implemented in its economic and political dimensions by the son of the man who first advocated it. The Suharto economic model which was repeated after the Chilean coup of 1973 by Pinochet who called in Milton Friedman and the Chicago Boys, is on the agenda in Sri Lanka today with unelected President Wickremesinghe inducting the rightwing Venezuelan economist Ricardo Hausmann.
In Indonesia and Chile, a dictatorship was installed by a coup and preceded the economic model. In Sri Lanka, the economic model was not preceded by a coup, but is being installed together with the closure of the political and legal systems through the freezing of elections and the attempt to introduce the totalitarian Anti-Terrorism Act, which should be re-named the State Terrorism Act.
Though the JVP-NPP doesn’t seem to realize it, it is looking exactly like the Indonesian Communist Party in 1965. I know the thinking of the PKI at the time because my father interviewed DN Aidit, its leader. The PKI was proud of its rapid peaceful growth into an enormous force. So too is the JVP-NPP.
JVP, FSP, ELECTIONS
The JVP-NPP is derisive about the breakaway FSP and thinks that the latter will be the target of repression by the Ranil administration—a prospect it will shed no tears over. What it utterly fails to grasp, just as the German social democrats failed to in the 1930s while expecting the axe to fall only on the Communists, is that there is an insurmountable contradiction between on the one hand, the economic model the bourgeoisie was seeking to install in the context of the crisis at the time, and on the other hand, the trade union base of the large, moderate Left parties.
The JVP-NPP will be hit hard by the most rightwing, reactionary regime Sri Lanka has ever had, not because of its radicalism, but because of its trade union base. The rapid growth of the JVP-NPP is no guarantee, as the party seems to think, against repression. The hybrid JVP-NPP formation is too big to be ignored by the regime but not strong enough to deter or defeat the repression. It is big enough to be perceived as a threat but not powerful enough to preempt or paralyze the regime.
Almost daily, the JVP-NPP leaders articulate a public position while being blissfully unaware of its implications. The position is this: Ranil’s regime would have elections if it could be certain that its class, as represented by itself or Sajith Premadasa’s SJB , could win an election; but since it knows it cannot count on a victory and knows that power is shifting to another class—to the popular classes- for the first time in 75 years, it is not holding an election.
Fair enough, but if that is the case, surely a regime that avoids a mere local government election is not going to hold a far more crucial election to the Presidency in 2024 or parliament in 2025.The JVP-NPP’s answer is, yes, well, we’ll force an election at the time while consolidating for the next year and a half. The problem with that argument is that the regime will be entrenching itself too, and using the time to come for the JVP-NPP, and the populist wing of the SJB, after it has suppressed the FSP.
So, how is the JVP-NPP going to escape this fate? Certainly not by the boastfulness and ego-centrism that has characterized the party since its inception in 1965. Nor by the recourse to arms that it engaged in before it had exhausted all other options in 1971 and built the necessary alliances in 1986.
LEFT ISOLATIONISM: AN INFANTILE DISORDER
At the 1947 election the parties of the Left fared very well and could have formed an administration if they had cooperated with each other and more importantly with the progressive-oriented independents. At the famous discussion at Yamuna, the residence of H Sri Nissanka, Dr. Colvin R de Silva notoriously shot down the idea saying that such an administration would be a three-headed donkey. Never again would the Left be that close to forming and dominating a government in Ceylon/Sri Lanka.
The JVP-NPP of today is carrying on the tragic tradition of arrogant rejectionism and ‘divisionism’.
In 1963, the three main left parties formed the United Left Front, which also reunited the trade unions as the Joint Council of Trade Union Organizations (JCTUO), based on a common platform of 21 demands. The ULF won the Borella by-election, thereby proving the political potential of a united left alternative. Months later the LSSP joined the SLFP in government, thereby splitting the left front. When the left parties joined a common platform again, it was in 1968 at Bogambara but as junior partners of the capitalist SLFP. (I was there, tagging along with my father).
In 1965-1971, there were several revolutionary left formations in South and North. The JVP didn’t form even the loosest coordinating body with any of them. Had it done so, when the repression came there would have been more hiding places and escape routes even out of the island. In 1979 the JVP and the several left parties formed a united bloc which sundered in several months, never to be re-constituted.
The killings of Daya Pathirana and Vijaya Kumaratunga by the JVP in 1986-1988, brought the anti-racist New Left into the armed fight, providing a distinctive input which decisively helped defeat the JVP just as the Karuna rebellion helped defeat the LTTE.
Had the 1979 left bloc front remained or been renewed, the left-on-left mini-civil war of the late 1980s could have been avoided.
In the face of Ranil’s repression which has begun (just read the diabolical Anti-Terrorism Act), the only answer known to politics is a series of united actions, leading to united fronts and popular blocs. Anyone who rejects that course is like someone trying to defend a community which will be under attack by a ruthless enemy, without building fortifications, walls, trenches, and alliances.
However large the JVP-NPP is, a way of being of political unipolarity and isolationism, devoid of partnerships has never led anyone to any success. Surely the lesson of the struggle against Nazi fascism is the necessity and success of the Popular Front and the convergence, irrespective of system and ideology, of the Allies. The JVP-NPP is large but so is a Thanksgiving turkey.
Dr. Dayan Jayatilleka is author of Fidel’s Ethics of Violence: The Moral Dimension of the Political Thought of Fidel Castro’, Pluto Press, London, and ‘The Fall of Global Socialism: A Counter-Narrative from the South’, Palgrave Macmillan, London.]
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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