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What is quality in higher education?

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By Kaushalya Perera

With more interest in the quality of higher education in Sri Lanka than ever before, and with a pandemic forcing far-reaching changes, this is an opportune time to discuss what quality means for university education.

Quality in state universities

Mention quality in higher education and attention inevitably veers to the state universities functioning under the University Grants Commission (UGC). The foremost complaint about graduates of these universities is their ‘unemployability’. Successive governments and the World Bank have, rather simplistically, equated unemployability with low English proficiency and low computer literacy. Unions and educationists have critiqued this argument, and pointed to the lack of state investment in education as a major reason for their weaknesses. However, from the government’s point of view, the ‘employable’ graduate is to be produced not through state funds (education received a mere 2.1% of GDP in 2018), but through the USD 180 million worth World Bank loans that we have received since 2003.

Other factors associated with employability are strangely missing from this public discourse. What makes a young educated adult ‘unemployable’? One factor can certainly be a lack of employment-worthy knowledge and skills in graduates. To be employable, however, there must be employment opportunities, sorely missing in the country. The solution by current and previous governments has been, other than to absorb large numbers of youth into the state sector, to demand that universities make internal changes. The Fiscal Management Report of 2020, for instance, states that 2021-2030 will be the “Decade of Skills Development”, its objectives simply being to “transform education for better employment, arrest FDIs, and promote skilled migration while reducing unskilled labour migration.” A consequence of this employment wasteland is that people resort to nepotism and cronyism to gain employment. These consequences of (a lack of) governance are generally unaddressed, as FUTA’s unsuccessful attempt to stop the recruitment of non-academic staff to universities from Ministry ‘lists’ show.

 

Measuring quality

The Universities Act No.16 of 1978 vests the UGC with the responsibility of maintaining academic standards of higher educational institutions (section 3) and grants full powers to investigate and initiate changes to do so. Despite this, the World Bank’s first loan cycle to universities in 2003 – titled ‘Improving Relevance and Quality in Undergraduate Education’ – initiated a new quality assurance (QA) process which promised to increase the quality of our graduates by increasing their attractiveness to employers.

The new QA process aims to do so by standardizing higher education, i.e. it will make it possible to assess diplomas and degrees against each other. This is done through the ‘Sri Lanka Qualifications Framework’, which provides the minimum qualifications and other related specifications for degrees (undergraduate and postgraduate) and other programmes, such as diplomas. The authority for this is with the Quality Assurance Council (QAC), currently under the UGC. The mechanism is similar to the UK QA model – ironically, the UK has similar debates to ours on graduate (un)employability and their QA model was designed to help. Quality will be maintained through periodic reviews, using ‘best practices’ and ‘standards’ against which institutions and programmes are evaluated.

Assessing the quality of higher education is indeed a necessity. The devil, however, is in the details as they say. For example, the SLQF describes a graduate, with a four-year degree, as someone who should “demonstrate an advanced knowledge and understanding of the core aspects of the area of study” and “critically analyse data, make judgments and propose solutions to problems.” Their vision for life must “clearly identify where one wants to be and develop long term goals, accordingly.” How can these criteria be evaluated? Advanced knowledge adequate for one profession may not be adequate for another. Solutions accepted by one employer may be rejected by another. In such instances, instead of engaging with the difficult issue of creating measures that can include these subjective criteria, QA processes turn to countable measures.

The quantitative orientation to quality accompanies the corporatization of higher education, a global trend and not unique to Sri Lanka. Universities are required to function like companies, producing corporate plans, annual progress reports, institutional reviews and auditing space and finances, etc. However, the methods of developing intellectual capabilities are not easily assessed through common measurements. Answers to questions such as ‘does your lecturer inspire you to explore a topic?’ or ‘Did the lecturer push you to think critically and develop ethical positions?’ are subjective. Yet, the need for standardized measurements means that the QA process in universities rely on quantitative measures such as the percentage of lecturers using online learning management systems, whether a lecturer distributed course plans at the beginning of the semester, or the percentage of the curriculum completed. The existence of an online learning management system and the number of people using it matters more than what students and lecturers actually do with it. Universities may satisfy QA requirements if they maintain online learning management systems, provide peer review mechanisms or initiate rewards to lecturers in the form of ‘best teacher awards’. While such quantitative measures might be able to give you some inkling of how a university is managed, they cannot help us gauge a student’s actual ability to think creatively or a lecturer’s commitment to teaching well.

This system of course has been critiqued. Across the world, experts have pointed to the pitfalls of adopting metric-based, audit-oriented measures towards education. They stress the dangers of ignoring the role of higher education in creating a socially responsible individual and a caring, politically active population. The most damning evidence on university governance in this manner was published in “The UK higher education senior management survey: A statactivist response to managerialist governance” (Erickson, Hanna and Walker, 2020). Surveying nearly 6,000 staff members, it reported that nearly two decades of corporatized practices in universities have led to a brutal system of metrics, an excessive workload inimical to high quality teaching and research, a culture of silence in academia, the use of institutional funds for vanity projects by senior management, and a high degree of mental health problems in the sector. Since we aim to follow the same processes, the Sri Lankan higher education sector should take note of the results.

Who is exempt from the
quality discussion?

The intense attention on UGC headed state universities helps other higher educational institutions in Sri Lanka fly under the radar. One such group is the cluster of state universities functioning under various ministries. For example, two Buddhist universities (the Buddhist and Pali University and the Bhiksu University of Sri Lanka) exist under the Ministry of Education. The Ministry of Vocational and Technical Training oversees the University of Vocational Technology. The General Sir John Kotelawala Defence University functions under the Ministry of Defence. While they are state universities, they function without being bound by regulations governing state universities under the UGC. For example, the KDU admits paying students to certain degree programmes and expects problematic ‘disciplined’ behaviour of its non-military students.

‘Private universities’ registered as companies essentially deliver external degrees on behalf of foreign universities. Even though they deliver content decided by a foreign university to Sri Lankan students, the local institution is not required to justify the award of such degrees in Sri Lanka. Neither the state universities under Ministries, nor the private universities are subject to external academic reviews or questioned on the quality of their lecturers, curricula or pedagogy. They are also not critiqued for a lack of research output.

 

The need for change

What we need then is a cohesive, far-sighted plan for higher education. Such a plan would take into account not only the financial development of the country but also the emotional, and intellectual development of its people. Beyond doubt then, the first priority would be the allocation of more funds for higher education. All degree-awarding institutions should ideally exist under the central authority of the UGC, or at the very least, must be reviewed by the UGC periodically. While evaluations of quality are necessary, they cannot be done quantitatively. Existing QA mechanisms needs to change from the box ticking, form filling, record keeping system to a more holistic one that deals with quality in qualitative terms. Educational research produced in other parts of the world seeing similar problems can help us with such transitions. None of this will work, however, without higher education (including the UGC) being depoliticised. Public discourse too needs to shift from its simplistic belief in education-for-employment and consider what ‘an educated person’ means and what universities can do towards creating such a person. The sole purpose of education, especially university education, should not be the mere matching of skills to jobs.

(Kaushalya Perera teaches at the Department of English, University of Colombo.)

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

 

 



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Ethnic-related problems need solutions now

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President Dissanayake in Jaffna

In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.

There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.

But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.

Core Principle

A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.

This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.

Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.

Equal Rights

Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.

The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.

Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.

The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.

Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.

Lose Trust

Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.

The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.

by Jehan Perera

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Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach

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PM Amarasuriya

This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education

In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.

Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?

History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms

That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.

Institutional and Structural Gaps

Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.

This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.

Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?

Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.

Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality

Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.

At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:

When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.

I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.

Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:

It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”

Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.

Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?

In Conclusion

The following suggestions are put forward:

First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.

Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.

Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna

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

By Aruni Samarakoon

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Smartphones and lyrics stands…

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Diliup Gabadamudalige: Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc.

Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.

Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.

Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.

Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!

In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.

They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days

The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!

When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.

Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.

AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!

AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.

In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!

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