Features
Unbundling the CEB II: The Politics of Reforming State Owned Enterprises
byRajan Philips
It is an old truism in policy analysis that there is nothing purely ‘technical’ in policy decisions. Every policy decision has a political aspect to it. Technical analysis is necessary and useful to identify and evaluate feasible options, including the costs and benefits of each option. In the end, what is selected or rejected is a political matter based on political preferences. There is nothing wrong with that. What gets to be objectionable is when decisions are made to reach outcomes to benefit some or deny someone else based on inappropriate considerations.
I say all this because the Minister of Power and Energy Kanchana Wijesekara alluded to forces within the CEB and “a political group that supported this section from outside” and accused them of having “obstructed reforms at the CEB” that he has been trying to get underway since becoming the subject Minister. While the Minister did not identify the ‘political group’ opposing reforms, he could not have been unaware of the criticisms that the Electricity (Reform) Act that he has now got passed also has the backing of political groups both within and outside the CEB, and for reasons that may not be entirely technical or altruistic.
It is a common suspicion that the electricity reform measures are intended to benefit vested interests not only within but also outside the country. There is already a public interest litigation in the Supreme Court filed by the Catholic Bishop of Mannar challenging the 250 MW Mannar Wind Power Project seemingly sequestered by India’s Adani Group. There are suspicions that the Adani Group could be a singular beneficiary of the objectives of the new Electricity Act to promote competition in renewable energy generation and transmission “in accordance with Sri Lanka’s national policies and its international obligations.”
These fears were reflected in the petitions challenging the Electricity Bill before the Supreme Court and in the Amendments suggested by the Court for constitutional compliance. The government accepted the Court’s Amendment, but in his intervention in the debate the Minister did not bother to explain why the government drafted Bill the way it did and to be chided by the Supreme Court.
The Minister has had a previous run in with the Court over the Petroleum Products Bill in 2022. The Court’s strictures were similar then to what they have been now. The only lesson the Minister and the government may seem to have learnt is that after being pulled up by the Court for trying to keep the Petroleum Products law outside the purview of the Bribery Act, they did not try to insulate the Electricity Act from the applications of the Bribery Act. For what it is worth, the Bribery Act would apply to the implementation of both laws.
Reform Antecedents
The restructuring of the supply and distribution of petroleum products that the Petroleum Products Act was created to provide for is a more straightforward and far less complex business than reforming the electricity sector. As I have written earlier, the lining up of firms from India, China, Australia and the US to import and distribute petroleum products at their allocated outlets is a stroke of Ranil Wickremesinghe’s genius. That is Sri Lanka’s ‘Quad’ version of blending foreign trade and relationships. The young Minister is entitled to whatever credit that is due on the petroleum front, but matters are not going to be that simple in the electricity sector.
The Minister also tried to answer criticisms that the new legislation was being rushed through by the government. He reminded parliament that the first Cabinet Paper on the new law had been presented in July 2022. But no one reminded him that the roots of the current initiative go back all the to 2002, when Minister Wijesekara would have been still a student somewhere, and that they were revived again in 2015 when the Minister first entered parliament.
There is an ADB Report from 2015 that provides a summary assessment of power sector reforms in Sri Lanka. The Report acknowledges inputs received from Sri Lankan professionals and government agencies including the CEB. Historically, the provision of electricity was the responsibility of a government department until the establishment of the Ceylon Electricity Board in 1969. The ADB Report notes that “The CEB carried out all the functions of electricity generation, transmission, distribution and retail supply, with no competition at any level.” So, introducing competition is taken to be the essence of reform. And two phases of reform are identified, starting from 1983.
The first phase of reform included the creation of state-owned distribution company, Lanka Electricity Company (LECO), that took over electricity distribution from local government agencies in designated areas. Beginning in 1996, the private sector was allowed in power as independent power producers (IPPs) and small power producers (SPPs). And in 2000, the CEB unbundled itself internally into six divisions, responsible for generation, transmission, and four of them for distribution. This was primarily an administrative restructuring without legal or financial separation of the unbundled divisions.
Significant legislative changes came two years later, in 2002, with the enactments of the Electricity Reform Act and the Public Utilities Commission Act. The latter enabled the setting up of the Public Utilities Commission of Sri Lanka (PUCSL) as the national power sector regulator, but the implementation of the Electricity Reform Act was stymied for want of a Ministerial order that in turn was prevented by political opposition including opposition by CEB staffers. A change in government in 2004, a new President in 2005, and a new Electricity Act in 2009 were all needed for the second reform phase.
The ADB Report notes that the Electricity Act No. 20 of 2009, finally enabled the regulatory functioning of the PUCSL, but it reduced the scope of CEB restructuring that had been envisaged by its predecessor, the Electricity Reform Act No. 28 of 2002. The upshot was a partial unbundling of the CEB, virtually continuing the internal unbundling of 2000, with the addition of a license requirement for each of the unbundled division.
In place of financially and legally independent entities in the power sector, the CEB continues its unreformed existence by holding six separate licenses – one for generation, one for transmission, and four for distribution. The PUCSL itself though created for the grand purpose of regulating all or most public utilities, would seem to have been reduced to a license issuer in the power sector. In addition to the six CEB licenses, the PUCSL would seem to have issued 311 other licenses, the vast majority of them for mini hydro power plants and others for solar and wind power generators. This is according to the spreadsheet listing the license holders that is available on the Commission’s website.
The purpose of the new (2024) legislation would seem to restore the objectives of the 2002 legislation that were slashed by the 2009 legislation. That is to break up the CEB not only administratively, but also legally and financially. The ADB Report acknowledges that for all the financial woes of the CEB, there have been remarkable achievements in the technical assets of the electricity sector – especially in hydropower generation and the transmission grid that spans the whole country, in improving national energy supply efficiency, as well as in fulfilling the social purpose of enabling accessibility to virtually every household. It would be a challenge to ensure that these gains are not lost or made unaffordable as a result of wholesale unbundling.
The main shortcomings are two-fold: absence of cost-based pricing for electricity; and the lack of capital for future investment. The CEB’s financial stress is rightly blamed on the approach of successive governments to dictate pricing for electricity that will not cover the cost of producing it. The irony is that this government or any government will not try to stop dictating insufficient pricing, but would rather hand over a whole sector to the market. What connects the two horns of this apparent dilemma is of course corruption. And no amount of institutional unbundling would provide the magical cure unless government corruption itself is bundled out.
Ranil and Reform
If there is one political name that consistently appears in all the efforts to reform the energy sector, it is the name of Ranil Wickremesinghe. It was his co-habitation government in 2002 that started the legislative process for reforming and regulating the electricity sector. Those efforts came to a sudden halt when President Chandrika Kumaratunga dismissed the government ‘headed’ by Ranil Wickremesinghe as Prime Minister. The second set of attempts came as part of Mr. Wickremesinghe’s second co-habilitation government, this time with Maithripala Sirisena as President. Nothing much came out of that government that was all talk and no result.
The ten year period (2005-2015) in between was the first Rajapaksa decade, and as I wrote in my commentary on the 2022 Petroleum law, Mahinda Rajapaksa as President continued from where Ranil Wickremesinghe had left as Prime Minister. Mutatis mutandis, you might say. Here we are again, more than 20 years later, having Ranil Wickremesinghe rescuing the Rajapaksas from the disaster that their second decade was turning into, and spearheading reforms not only in the electricity and the overall energy sectors, but also in all the so called State Owned Enterprises.
As with the electricity sector and the CEB in particular, the SOEs are universally blamed for being a big part of the current economic crisis, and their reform has become a fundamental condition for getting IMF help to overcome the crisis. There are reportedly 400 SOEs, a majority of them likely created after the great liberalization of the economy. The state of affairs is such that full information is not readily available for the vast majority of them. Even an officially accurate list of all the SOEs is apparently not available.
The government, rather the President true to form, has initiated a virtual Shah process to reform the SOEs based on a shortlist that includes a rather long list of 80 or 130 (depending on who is reporting) of SOEs. That too in this election year with hardly four months to go before the presidential election. If these actions of Ranil Wickremesinghe were to be presented to a shareholders meeting, he would be declared Chairman of the Board for life. But political elections are a different world and Mr. Wickremesinghe seems determined to fight one last time for his political life.
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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