Features
What is quality in higher education?
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.
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

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