Opinion
Wayward journey of middle class: Some Reflections
by Gunadasa Amarasekera
(A talk given by Gunadasa Amarasekera at the Royal Asiatic Society)
When Dr. Punsara Amarasinghe requested me to speak on my long novel in nine volumes I was rather reluctant, not because of anything else but my physical condition. Nearing my 96th year, I have lost almost all my faculties. I am almost deaf and unable to join in a conversation, leave aside a discussion. My eyesight is extremely poor. I suffer from memory loss. I cannot speak off the cuff and have to put it down on paper.
Despite these infirmities, I thought I should accept his invitation for a number of reasons.
Firstly, I found out that Dr. Punsara Amarasinghe is an avid reader of mine. He has not only read all these nine volumes but almost all my other works. (Now, that is a compliment no writer can ignore). How can I let him down?
Secondly, this work which I launched nearly thirty- five years ago, having had a number of reprints has hardly drawn the attention I expected from the so- called critics and intellectuals. Leaving aside the literary merits of this work, the political, the socio- economic insights contained in them should have stimulated/provoked those intellectuals to take them up even to debunk them. As such, Punsara’s initiative to draw attention to what I said was welcome.
Thirdly, looking back on what I wanted to convey I find what I said then, is more relevant now to us, going through a severe economic and political crisis, than at that time.
Fourthly my narrative advocating Buddhist civilisational values, I felt, would find a response in economists following Schumacher who pointed out the validity of Buddhist economics. The latest in this trend I came across is in Professor Clair Brown’s book ‘Buddhist Economics’. She had in fact come to our country some time ago to see how this centre of Theravada Buddhism is pursuing Buddhist economics. What she saw instead, were limousines of the latest model plying the streets of Colombo, and skyscrapers outdoing each other to reach the skies. She was thoroughly disillusioned. I hope this narrative by a Buddhist would vindicate us at least in a small way and also make her revise her opinion regarding us.
What prompted me in ’83 to embark on this voluminous narrative may be of interest, in understanding it. A brief account may be of help. It may also be relevant as some have branded this as a political tract presented in the garb of fiction.
What fallacy prompted those detractors to brand this narrative as a political tract? It is vital to examine it at some length as it has a bearing on the growth of the novel especially at this time.
Politics as such has been outlawed from our serious fiction. A good example is the novel Yuganthaya by Martin Wickramasinghe-our most social conscious novelist.Yuganthaya is based on a political theme- the struggle for a socialist state. But in it we do not come across the personalities who championed it, those stalwarts who dominated the scene are absent, their activities have been ignored. We do not see the prevalent politics of the time which engulfed the society. Instead of presenting that vital background the author resorts to an abstract, symbolic presentation.
As a result, Yuganthaya becomes a sort of intellectual exercise by a romantic individual. It is by no means- an end of a yugaya- an epoch.Yugantahya has had no impact, it is hardly referred to, today, when it is extremely socially relevant to the times.
Symbolism and abstract conceptualiaation, that the author had resorted to has a place in poetry; as a matter-of-fact symbolism is the essence of poetry, this is not so in fiction. Realism is the essence of fiction. It must be presented in all its complex manifestations, it cannot be selective, it must be representative, totally and completely. The heterocosm the novelist creates must accommodate all that complexity.
The negligence of this fact by our novelists has had two results; avoidance of politics in their serious works and the acceptance of this by the readers as the norm – a criterion of judgment.
This is highly undesirable at this juncture, when politics has to come in a big way to our creative work. This, I believe is what Solzhenitsyn meant when he said that a great novelist is a state within a state. To be a state within a state one has to be highly conscious and aware of politics- a political animal.
I have not been a political activist, however, I have been even as a teenager, a keen observer of what was happening in the country, in the political landscape. (It may have been due to the influence my father had on me). I was a political animal of sorts.
I was there at the Torrington Square when we received Independence. I watched with contempt our Prime Minister arriving there in top hat and tailcoat. I was there at the Town Hall when Bandaranaike formed his party. I was on the streets of Kandy cheering away when the ’56 victory was announced. I was in depths of despair when JR Jayewardene hoodwinked the entire nation with his Dharmista slogan and pushed his neo-liberal economic policy on us which resulted in two insurrections, one in the South and one in the North. The US with the collaboration of India was planning to impose Federalism on us. The neo liberal economic policy ruined not only our economy but also our culture and civilizational values. My dreams had by then vanished. I was feeling .dejected and utterly hopeless. I needed to unburden the oppression within me. It was this mindset which forced me to embark on this narrative. It was a therapy I needed very much.
In order to achieve it I needed an alter ego through whom to articulate my thoughts. It had to be a Piyadasa from the middle class to which I too belonged. Further it had to be the journey undertaken by this middle class. You might ask why the middle class? Obviously, it was the middle class after the ’56 victory that determined the destiny of this country for good or for bad.
How and when did this middle class emerge? The genesis of this class had to be sorted out first. The first volume of this narrative Gamanaka Mula attempts to unearth it.
Prior to the emergence of this middle class-the rural society, the village that was there, was no different to that which was there in ancient times. Anagarika Dharmapala has provided a description of that society.
‘The villagers lived a circumscribed but contented life. There were no big land owners, no capitalists. Every family had a plot of land which they cultivated. There were grasslands and forests for their common use. People lived a contented life helping each other. There was no place for individualism. Collectivism was the basis of their living. The sangha led a collective life and provided the necessary guidance’. Life at Yatalamatta where Piyadasa spent his childhood was a close replica of this society.
How did a middle class emerge from this background? How and when did this middle class emerge?
By the beginning of the last century there appeared a new class in the village. It consisted of vernacular teachers, headmen, post masters, and petty government officials. Unlike the villagers they had a consistent income by way of a monthly salary. They were fairly educated too, and had an inkling of the changes that were taking place outside their village. They realised that if they were to keep abreast, they will have to send their children out of the village and give them an English education.
Piyadasa’s mother was the headmistress of a school. His father was an enlightened person and a devotee of Anagarika Dharmapala. They decided to send Piyadasa to the Christian school at Baddegama first and then to Colombo to stay with his aunt who had come to live in the suburbs of Colombo where her husband was employed. They had no children of their own. The parents of Piyadasa had no great ambitions. They were quite happy if Piyadasa could be put in trousers and employed as a clerk. These middle-class ambitions soared only after 1944 with the advent of the Free Education system.
Being a keen student Piyadasa matriculated and entered the University College in Colombo to follow a course in Economics. It was the tail end of World War 2.
The society in which Piyadasa moved in Colombo was a hive of activity with nationalist and Buddhist resurgent movements, raging across that society. Free education was the main issue that kept these movements going. Figures like Malalasekera and Mettananda dominated the scene. Piyadasa and his friends attended those meetings and got thoroughly involved in them.
With the establishment of the University of Ceylon at Peradeniya, Piyadasa had to go there. It came as a surprise to Piyadasa to realise that in spite of those magnificent buildings reminding one of Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa, it was a dead city, devoid of any intellectual or political activity. If there was any political activity, it was confined to a miniscule Trotskyite group for whom it was a parlour game to be engaged in, till they joined the Civil Service. Piyadasa was neither interested in such politics nor the civil service. Anything resembling any intellectual activity was the cultural activities initiated by Sarachchandra. It was to overcome the boredom of living that Piyadasa drifted there. But very soon he fell under the spell of Sarachchandra who was an out and out aesthete who was not concerned with anything happening in the society. In fact, he was very cynical of these national or Buddhist activities. He considered those leaders as hypocrites. He was even cynical of his own discipline of Indian philosophy and Western Philosophy. He considered them as blind alleys and often quoted Omar Khayam’s verses to justify his view. When Sarachchandra over a glass of beer quoted those verses by Omar Khayyam, Piyadasa listened to him spell bound.
The spell was short lived. Sarachchandra left for Japan and Piyadasa was left high and dry with nothing to look forward to in that desert.
He had nothing to look forward to. His attempt to win the heart of a girl whom he adored had failed. His aspirations to get an academic post too failed. In sheer desperation Piyadasa applied for a government job and obtained the post of an Assistant Commissioner of Agrarian Services and moved out to Kalutara. The volume Inimage Ihalata describes this period of his life.
Kalutara was a sleepy town. The only ‘living spot’ was the government Servants’ Club- where the government servants spent their evenings drinking till midnight. Piyadasa too followed them. Thereafter the only avenue to kill the boredom was to practice what Omar Khayyam had advised – to seek the pleasures of the flesh which soon filled him with disgust. The volume Wankagiriyaka describes this phase in Piyadasa’s life.
For his good fortune things changed quite unexpectedly. He fell in love with a woman after his heart and got married. His good fortune did not stop there. Quite unexpectedly he was offered a post at the Peradeniya University. Piyadasa and his wife came to live in Kandy, in a room at Queen’s Hotel where they listened to the thewawa at the Dalada maligawa, morning and evening. The volume Yali Maga Wetha discusses this period of his life.
In Kandy, Piyadasa came across a group of more or less his own age who were political animals who were very concerned about what was happening in the country. Their company awakened the political animal in Piyadasa that had gone to sleep over the last two or three years.
The group consisted of two die-hard Marxists Alaya and Bassa and, Thilakasena and Weera who were more inclined to SLFP politics. They met in Thilakasena’s room at least every other day, went on till late midnight engaged in violent debates. The two Marxists’ attitude to the failure of the United Front Government which they had helped to win was the non-implementation of the Marxist theories by the government fully. Thilakasena was of a different view. He attributed the failure to the forcing of the Marxist policies without considering the Buddhist cultural background of the people. Piyadasa went further and attributed the failure to the models we have borrowed from the West without seeking an indigenous model based on our civilisation which had disintegrated with foreign conquests but had left a civilisational consciousness in the minds of the people. This was challenged by the two Marxist who saw it as a fantasy on the part of Piyadasa.
(To be concluded)
Opinion
What BNP should keep in mind as it assumes power
BNP rightly deserves our congratulations for winning a decisive victory in the 13th parliamentary election. This outcome reflects an unequivocal mandate that is both politically and historically significant. Coming as it does at a critical point in Bangladesh’s democratic journey, this moment marks more than a change of government; it signals a renewed public resolve to restore democratic norms, accountability, and institutional integrity.
The election came after years of severe distrust in the electoral process, questions over legitimacy, and institutional strain, so the poll’s successful conduct has reinforced trust in the process as well as the principle that governments derive authority from the consent of the governed. For quite some time now, Bangladesh has faced deep polarisation, intolerance, and threats to its democratic foundations. Regressive and anti-democratic tendencies—whether institutional, ideological, or political—risked steering the country away from its foundational goals. BNP’s decisive victory can therefore be interpreted as a call to reverse this trajectory, and a public desire for accountable, forward-looking governance rooted in liberal democratic principles.
However, the road ahead is going to be bumpy, to put it mildly. A broad mandate alone cannot resolve deep-rooted structural problems. The BNP government will likely continue to face economic challenges and institutional constraints for the foreseeable future. This will test its capacity and sincerity not only to govern but also to transform the culture of governance in the country.
Economic reform imperatives
A key challenge will be stabilising the economy, which continues to face mounting pressures: growth has decelerated, inflation has eroded people’s purchasing power, foreign exchange reserves remain low, and public finances are tight. External debt has increased significantly in recent years, while the tax-to-GDP ratio has fallen to historically low levels. State-owned enterprises and the banking sector face persistent structural weaknesses, and confidence among both domestic and international investors remains fragile.
The new government should begin by restoring macroeconomic discipline. Containing inflation will need close coordination across ministries and agencies. Monetary policy must remain cautious and credible, free from political interference, while fiscal policy should prioritise stability rather than expand populist spending.
Tax reform is also unavoidable. The National Board of Revenue requires comprehensive modernisation, digitalisation, and total compliance. Broadening the tax base, especially by bringing all high-income groups and segments of the informal economy into the formal system, is crucial. Over time, reliance on indirect taxes such as value-added tax and import duties should be reduced, paving the way for a more progressive direct tax regime.
Banking sector reform is equally crucial. Proper asset quality reviews and regulatory oversight are necessary to rebuild confidence in the sector. Political patronage within the financial institutions must end. Without a resilient financial system, private investment cannot recover. As regards growth, the government should focus on diversifying exports beyond ready-made garments and deepening integration into regional value chains. Attracting foreign direct investment will depend on regulatory predictability and improvements in logistics and energy reliability. Ambitious growth targets must be matched by realistic implementation capacity.
Political Challenges
Distrust among political actors, partly fuelled by fears of retribution and violence, is a reality that may persist. BNP will face pressure from its supporters to act quickly in addressing perceived injustices, but good governance demands restraint. If the new government resorts to or tolerates exclusion or retaliation, it will risk perpetuating the very cycle it has condemned.
Managing internal party discipline will also be crucial, as a large parliamentary majority can sometimes lead to complacency or factional rivalry. Strong leadership will be required to maintain unity while allowing constructive internal debate. BNP must also rebuild trust with minority communities and vulnerable groups. Elections often heighten anxieties among minorities, so a credible commitment to equal citizenship is crucial. BNP’s political maturity will also be judged by how it treats or engages with its opponents. In this regard, Chairman Tarique Rahman’s visits to the residences of top opposition leaders on Sunday marked a positive gesture, one that many hope will withstand the inevitable pressures or conflicts over governance in the coming days.
Strengthening democratic institutions
A central promise of this election was to restore democracy, which must now translate into concrete institutional reforms. Judicial independence needs constant safeguarding. Which means that appointment, promotion, and case management processes should be insulated from political influence. Parliamentary oversight committees must also function effectively, and the opposition’s voice in parliament must be protected.
Electoral institutions also need reform, particularly along the lines of the July Charter. Continued credibility of the Election Commission will depend on transparency, professional management, and impartiality. Meanwhile, the civil service must be depoliticised. Appointments based on loyalty rather than merit have long undermined governance in the country. So the new administration must work on curtailing the influence of political networks to ensure a professional, impartial civil service. Media reform and digital rights also deserve careful attention. We must remember that democratic consolidation is built through institutional habits, and these habits must be established early.
Beyond winner-takes-all
Bangladesh’s politics has long been characterised by a winner-takes-all mentality. Electoral victories have often resulted in monopolisation of power, marginalising opposition voices and weakening checks and balances. If BNP is serious about democratic renewal, it must consciously break with this tradition. Inclusive policy consultations will be a good starting point. Major economic and constitutional reforms should be based on cross-party dialogue and consensus. Appointments to constitutional bodies should be transparent and consultative, and parliamentary debates should be done with the letter and spirit of the July Charter in mind.
Meeting public expectations
The scale of public expectations now is naturally immense. Citizens want economic relief, employment opportunities, necessary institutional reforms, and improved governance. Managing these expectations will be quite difficult. Many reforms will not yield immediate results, and some may impose short-term costs. So, it is imperative to ensure transparent communication about the associated timelines, trade-offs, and fiscal constraints.
Anti-corruption efforts must be credible and monitored at all times. Measures are needed to strengthen oversight institutions, improve transparency in public procurement, and expand digital service delivery to reduce opportunities for rent-seeking. Governance reform should be systematic, not selective or politically driven. Tangible improvements are urgently needed in public service delivery, particularly in health, education, social protection, and local government.
Finally, a word of caution: BNP’s decisive victory presents both opportunities and risks. It can enable bold reforms but it also carries the danger of overreach. The key deciding factor here is political judgment. The question is, can our leaders deliver based on the mandate voters have given them? (The Daily Star)
Dr Fahmida Khatun is an economist and executive director at the Centre for Policy Dialogue (CPD). Views expressed in the article are the author’s own.
Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
by Fahmida Khatun
Opinion
Why religion should remain separate from state power in Sri Lanka: Lessons from political history
Religion has been an essential part of Sri Lankan society for more than two millennia, shaping culture, moral values, and social traditions. Buddhism in particular has played a foundational role in guiding ethical behaviour, promoting compassion, and encouraging social harmony. Yet Sri Lanka’s modern political history clearly shows that when religion becomes closely entangled with state power, both democracy and religion suffer. The politicisation of religion especially Buddhism has repeatedly contributed to ethnic division, weakened governance, and the erosion of moral authority. For these reasons, the separation of religion and the state is not only desirable but necessary for Sri Lanka’s long-term stability and democratic progress.
Sri Lanka’s post-independence political history provides early evidence of how religion became a political tool. The 1956 election, which brought S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike to power, is often remembered as a turning point where Sinhala-Buddhist nationalism was actively mobilised for political expedience. Buddhist monks played a visible role in political campaigning, framing political change as a religious and cultural revival. While this movement empowered the Sinhala-Buddhist majority, it also laid the foundation for ethnic exclusion, particularly through policies such as the “Sinhala Only Act.” Though framed as protecting national identity, these policies marginalised Tamil-speaking communities and contributed significantly to ethnic tensions that later escalated into civil conflict. This period demonstrates how religious symbolism, when fused with state power, can undermine social cohesion rather than strengthen it.
The increasing political involvement of Buddhist monks in later decades further illustrates the risks of this entanglement. In the early 2000s, the emergence of monk-led political parties such as the Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU) marked a new phase in Sri Lankan politics. For the first time, monks entered Parliament as elected lawmakers, directly participating in legislation and governance. While their presence was justified as a moral corrective to corrupt politics, in practice it blurred the boundary between spiritual leadership and political power. Once monks became part of parliamentary debates, policy compromises, and political rivalries, they were no longer perceived as neutral moral guides. Instead, they became political actors subject to criticism, controversy, and public mistrust. This shift significantly weakened the traditional reverence associated with the Sangha.
Sri Lankan political history also shows how religion has been repeatedly used by political leaders to legitimise authority during times of crisis. Successive governments have sought the public endorsement of influential monks to strengthen their political image, particularly during elections or moments of instability. During the war, religious rhetoric was often used to frame the conflict in moral or civilisational terms, leaving little room for nuanced political solutions or reconciliation. This approach may have strengthened short-term political support, but it also deepened ethnic polarisation and made post-war reconciliation more difficult. The long-term consequences of this strategy are still visible in unresolved ethnic grievances and fragile national unity.
Another important historical example is the post-war period after 2009. Despite the conclusion of the war, Sri Lanka failed to achieve meaningful reconciliation or strong democratic reform. Instead, religious nationalism gained renewed political influence, often used to silence dissent and justify authoritarian governance. Smaller population groups such as Muslims and Christians in particular experienced growing insecurity as extremist groups operated with perceived political protection. The state’s failure to maintain religious neutrality during this period weakened public trust and damaged Sri Lanka’s international reputation. These developments show that privileging one religion in state power does not lead to stability or moral governance; rather, it creates fear, exclusion, and institutional decay.
The moral authority of religion itself has also suffered as a result of political entanglement. Traditionally, Buddhist monks were respected for their distance from worldly power, allowing them to speak truth to rulers without fear or favour. However, when monks publicly defend controversial political decisions, support corrupt leaders, or engage in aggressive nationalist rhetoric, they risk losing this moral independence. Sri Lankan political history demonstrates that once religious figures are seen as aligned with political power, public criticism of politicians easily extends to religion itself. This has contributed to growing disillusionment among younger generations, many of whom now view religious institutions as extensions of political authority rather than sources of ethical guidance.
The teachings of the Buddha offer a clear contrast to this historical trend. The Buddha advised rulers on ethical governance but never sought political authority or state power. His independence allowed him to critique injustice and moral failure without compromise. Sri Lanka’s political experience shows that abandoning this principle has harmed both religion and governance. When monks act as political agents, they lose the freedom to challenge power, and religion becomes vulnerable to political failure and public resentment.
Sri Lanka’s multi-religious social structure nurtures divisive, if not separatist, sentiments. While Buddhism holds a special historical place, the modern state governs citizens of many faiths. Political history shows that when the state appears aligned with one religion, minority communities feel excluded, regardless of constitutional guarantees. This sense of exclusion has repeatedly weakened national unity and contributed to long-term conflict. A secular state does not reject religion; rather, it protects all religions by maintaining neutrality and ensuring equal citizenship.
Sri Lankan political history clearly demonstrates that the fusion of religion and state power has not produced good governance, social harmony, or moral leadership. Instead, it has intensified ethnic divisions, weakened democratic institutions, and damaged the spiritual credibility of religion itself. Separating religion from the state is not an attack on Buddhism or Sri Lankan tradition. On the contrary, it is a necessary step to preserve the dignity of religion and strengthen democratic governance. By maintaining a clear boundary between spiritual authority and political power, Sri Lanka can move toward a more inclusive, stable, and just society one where religion remains a source of moral wisdom rather than a tool of political control.
In present-day Sri Lanka, the dangers of mixing religion with state power are more visible than ever. Despite decades of experience showing the negative consequences of politicised religion, religious authority continues to be invoked to justify political decisions, silence criticism, and legitimise those in power. During recent economic and political crises, political leaders have frequently appeared alongside prominent religious figures to project moral legitimacy, even when governance failures, corruption, and mismanagement were evident. This pattern reflects a continued reliance on religious symbolism to mask political weakness rather than a genuine commitment to ethical governance.
The 2022 economic collapse offers a powerful contemporary example. As ordinary citizens faced shortages of fuel, food, and medicine, public anger was directed toward political leadership and state institutions. However, instead of allowing religion to act as an independent moral force that could hold power accountable, sections of the religious establishment appeared closely aligned with political elites. This alignment weakened religion’s ability to speak truthfully on behalf of the suffering population. When religion stands too close to power, it loses its capacity to challenge injustice, corruption, and abuse precisely when society needs moral leadership the most.
At the same time, younger generations in Sri Lanka are increasingly questioning both political authority and religious institutions. Many young people perceive religious leaders as participants in political power structures rather than as independent ethical voices. This growing scepticism is not a rejection of spirituality, but a response to the visible politicisation of religion. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka risks long-term damage not only to democratic trust but also to religious life itself.
The present moment therefore demands a critical reassessment. A clear separation between religion and the state would allow religious institutions to reclaim moral independence and restore public confidence. It would also strengthen democracy by ensuring that policy decisions are guided by evidence, accountability, and inclusive dialogue rather than religious pressure or nationalist rhetoric. Sri Lanka’s recent history shows that political legitimacy cannot be built on religious symbolism alone. Only transparent governance, social justice, and equal citizenship can restore stability and public trust.
Ultimately, the future of Sri Lanka depends on learning from both its past and present. Protecting religion from political misuse is not a threat to national identity; it is a necessary condition for ethical leadership, democratic renewal, and social harmony in a deeply diverse society.
by Milinda Mayadunna
Opinion
NPP’s misguided policy
Judging by some recent events, starting with the injudicious pronouncement in Jaffna by President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and subsequent statements by some senior ministers, the government tends to appease minorities at the expense of the majority. Ill-treatment of some Buddhist monks by the police continues to arouse controversy, and it looks as if the government used the police to handle matters that are best left to the judiciary. Sangadasa Akurugoda concludes his well-reasoned opinion piece “Appeasement of separatists” (The island, 13 February) as follows:
“It is unfortunate that the President of a country considers ‘national pride and patriotism’, a trait that every citizen should have, as ‘racism’. Although the President is repeating it like a mantra that he will not tolerate ‘racism’ or ‘extremism’ we have never heard him saying that he will not tolerate ‘separatism or terrorism’.”
It is hard to disagree with Akurugoda. Perhaps, the President may be excused for his reluctance to refer to terrorism as he leads a movement that unleashed terror twice, but his reluctance to condemn separatism is puzzling. Although most political commentators consider the President’s comment that ‘Buddhist go to Jaffna to spread hate’ to be callous, the head of an NGO heaped praise on the President for saying so!
As I pointed out in a previous article, puppet-masters outside seem to be pulling the strings (A puppet show? The Island, 23 January) and the President’s reluctance to condemn separatism whilst accusing Buddhists of spreading hatred by going to Jaffna makes one wonder who these puppeteers are.
Another incident that raises serious concern was reported from a Buddhist Temple in Trincomalee. The police removed a Buddha statue and allegedly assaulted Buddhist priests. Mysteriously, the police brought back the statue the following day, giving an absurd excuse; they claimed they had removed it to ensure its safety. No inquiry into police action was instituted but several Bhikkhus and dayakayas were remanded for a long period.
Having seen a front-page banner headline “Sivuru gelawenakam pahara dunna” (“We were beaten till the robes fell”) in the January 13th edition of the Sunday Divaina, I watched on YouTube the press briefing at the headquarters of the All-Ceylon Buddhist Association. I can well imagine the agony those who were remanded went through.
Ven. Balangoda Kassapa’s description of the way he and the others, held on remand, were treated raises many issues. Whether they committed a transgression should be decided by the judiciary. Given the well-known judicial dictum, ‘innocent until proven guilty’, the harassment they faced cannot be justified under any circumstances.
Ven. Kassapa exposed the high-handed actions of the police. This has come as no surprise as it is increasingly becoming apparent as they are no longer ‘Sri Lanka Police’; they have become the ‘NPP police’. This is an issue often editorially highlighted by The Island. How can one expect the police to be impartial when two key posts are held by officers brought out of retirement as a reward for canvassing for the NPP. It was surprising to learn that the suspects could not be granted bail due to objections raised by the police.
Ven. Kassapa said the head of the remand prison where he and others were held had threatened him.
However, there was a ray of hope. Those who cry out for reconciliation fail to recognise that reconciliation is a much-misused term, as some separatists masquerading as peacemakers campaign for reconciliation! They overlook the fact that it is already there as demonstrated by the behaviour of Tamil and Muslim inmates in the remand prison, where Ven. Kassapa and others were kept.
Non-Buddhist prisoners looked after the needs of the Bhikkhus though the prison chief refused even to provide meals according to Vinaya rules! In sharp contrast, during a case against a Sri Lankan Bhikkhu accused of child molestation in the UK, the presiding judge made sure the proceedings were paused for lunch at the proper time.
I have written against Bhikkhus taking to politics, but some of the issues raised by Ven. Kassapa must not be ignored. He alleges that the real reason behind the conflict was that the government was planning to allocate the land belonging to the Vihara to an Indian businessman for the construction of a hotel. This can be easily clarified by the government, provided there is no hidden agenda.
It is no secret that this government is controlled by India. Even ‘Tilvin Ayya’, who studied the module on ‘Indian Expansionism’ under Rohana Wijeweera, has mended fences with India. He led a JVP delegation to India recently. Several MoUs or pacts signed with India are kept under wraps.
Unfortunately, the government’s mishandling of this issue is being exploited by other interested parties, and this may turn out to be a far bigger problem.
It is high time the government stopped harassing the majority in the name of reconciliation, a term exploited by separatists to achieve their goals!
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
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