Features
A democracy in debt: Reflections on a documentary
Next year, 2027, will mark the fifth anniversary of the economic and political crisis in Sri Lanka, which almost ruptured my country beyond recognition. Five years later, Sri Lanka is
still slouching towards recovery. Though it is buoyed by an optimism which has become a hallmark of its people, it remains one of the most vulnerable countries, easily flailing under global shocks such as the recent US-Iran War. Indeed, one of the catalysts for the 2022 crisis were the many price and supply shocks of the Russia-Ukraine War.
The crisis in Sri Lanka was a long time coming and has a history going back to even before independence. Under British rule, Sri Lanka transformed into a model society, a laboratory in which liberal and radical reforms of the British Empire were enacted and seen through. In 1931 it became the first European colony to receive the unconditional right to vote, for all its citizens. 17 years later, through a long process of negotiation and constitutional reform, it became an independent state, though still a British Dominion.
By 1948, the country had been ranked among the most promising in the post-colonial world. In terms of economic indicators like GDP and indebtedness and social metrics like health and education, it was far ahead of other countries – including two of its neighbors, India and Myanmar. East Asian countries like Korea had yet to industrialize into what it is today, while Europe was still transitioning from World War II to the Cold War.
Moreover, in the early 20th century, the British government, moved by a sense of pragmatic paternalism, had undertaken reforms in Ceylon which helped raise the birth rate and reduce the death rate. Making education more accessible, it laid the foundation for a welfare state. Today, with literacy and health statistics among the highest in the world, and the region, the country is lauded as a success story in social welfare.
But some economists have noted that this was where the problems began. They contend that welfare, though cushioning people against unemployment and the threat of starvation and illness, was not supplemented enough by investment and growth. While the country experienced impressive development in its first few years of independence, by 1960, that growth was stagnating. Social welfare was expanding considerably, but for some it seemed to transform the country too rapidly, putting a strain on its finances.
By 2022 this crisis had become ingrained in the system. In the late 1990s Sri Lanka lost its status as a low-income country. Earlier, it could finance its development with the help of aid from development institutions. With its graduation into middle income status, the country was compelled to resort to commercial borrowings. Between 2007 and 2022, a period of 15 years, it borrowed from various countries and capital markets.
The Easter Sunday attacks of 2019, followed by Covid-19 in 2020, complicated these issues further. In March 2022, the country ran out of foreign exchange to pay for its imports. Sri Lanka was and remains a highly consumerist society. The result was prolonged power cuts and commodity shortages, followed by protests, brutal reprisals by the government – and, eventually, the overthrow of a deeply unpopular president.
Exploring a Village Down Under
All this helps explain the broader context. But it does not unearth the human dimension, or human cost, of the crisis. In April 2022, the country announced its first sovereign debt default. Two years later, under a different president though the same political dispensation, I got the opportunity of working with a renowned filmmaker on a documentary on the aftermath of the economic crisis. Our objective was less to historicize what had happened than how the economic crisis was seen and felt by people on the ground.
The documentary, Democracy in Debt. Sri Lanka Beyond the Headlines, was sponsored in part by the Pulitzer Centre. It was directed by Boston-based, Pakistani-born journalist Beena Sarwar, who already had an impressive line of credits to her name.
From the beginning, Democracy in Debt was planned in two parts, each crisscrossing the other. The first unfolded in a village called Dutuwewa, in Anuradhapura.
Here people lived a secluded, though hardly simple, life. Every other person was a rice cultivator, and they supplemented this with an additional job, as a teacher, clerk, or some other professional. For these people, life was always cut to the bone: “We don’t feel like we are living,” they would think and very often say. “Only surviving.”
They lived in the most basic setup, and diligent researchers and writers that we were, we lived the life they led. We checked ourselves into a rundown house and made the best of what we were given. For three days, we went around interviewing villagers, observing them engaging in rice farming and other activities, and spending sunsets and dusks talking with them casually over a dinner plate and cup of tea. We talked with teachers and principals, including an economics lecturer who contended that although experts were touting that Sri Lanka had recovered, he didn’t see any reason for hope.
That, of course, was the prevailing sentiment on the ground. Some villagers articulated it more eloquently than others. One farmer, in particular, lectured us on the origins of the village – Dutuwewa is associated with Dutugemunu, one of the most revered kings of ancient Lanka – before explaining how contemporary politics had ruined the foundations on which their society had stood for centuries.
He had particular scorn for the president who had been chased away by protesters in 2022. As with most villagers we spoke with, he rationalized what happened in 2022 by resorting to metaphors from his household: “If the parent of the family is not a responsible person, then how can the family survive? if the ruler of a country is not equipped to look after his people, how can we expect him to hold his mandate?” These were simple statements, but for him, and us, they underlay a profound truth: people like him were living on the margins, and they were incensed at the rulers’ inability to do the bare minimum for them.
A Clash of Perspectives
If its first part of the narrative delves into the voices of people on the ground, the second part of Democracy in Debt offers a counterpoint in the form of perspectives from elite policymakers and political officials in Colombo. Among those we interviewed were two economists, the director-general of the Board of Investment of Sri Lanka, and the then Prime Minister. Though we tried to reach out to other politicians, especially Opposition MPs, we were unable to do so. The few we interviewed, however, brought up an interesting contrast with the people we had talked with in Dutuwewa.
The Colombo phase of the documentary helped us gauge a rift, a gulf, between people on the ground who were feeling the effects of the crisis and the reforms that were undertaken to achieve stability, and policy elites who were prescribing these reforms for the “greater good” of the economy. I think this gulf is crucial to the narrative of Democracy in Debt. At various points in the documentary, the booming and sonorous voices of policymakers cut into the plaintive laments of villagers. The contrast could not have been more obvious, and for better or worse, it became the centerpiece of the narrative.
This had to do with a different way of looking at not just the crisis, but also the way reforms were framed: on the one hand, as necessary in the country’s interests, and on the other, as inadequate in the context of poorer communities like farmers. By this point a critique had emerged about the then government’s engagement with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and its harshest prescriptions. These prescriptions included cost-reflective pricing for fuel and electricity, which sent utility bills for the most deprived skyrocketing.
Arguably the most significant part of Sri Lanka’s comprehensive social welfare system is its universal assistance program. Known as Samurdhi, the program had been a subject of much critique for decades. But the villagers of Dutuwewa whom we interviewed saw it differently to the policymakers of Colombo. The latter framed it as wasteful, in need of urgent repair, and called for a better coordinated alternative. The villagers, on the other hand, regretted that it had been removed and restructured. For them, Samurdhi was not only a welfare scheme; it was also a program which connected the most marginalized communities to the government of Sri Lanka. It made them feel as though they were a part of the system. Part of the reason for reforming Samurdhi was to depoliticize social welfare. Yet for villagers, this was the antithesis of how they saw welfare: in essence, such programs had made them feel that they were active players, not passive recipients, in the political process.
Such nuances often get lost in the world of economic policymaking. Yet part of the message in Democracy in Debt is that, in electoral democracies in Sri Lanka, the human aspect of economic crises and recovery efforts cannot be sidelined. As I noted several weeks back in this column, Sri Lanka’s ranking in the World Happiness Index underlies a contradiction between its potential and its prospects. Most Sri Lankans feel, to paraphrase what one villager said, that they are “only surviving.” Yet they also believe that there are better days ahead, although these opportunities have been squandered needlessly over the last few decades. One of the biggest electoral rallying cries of the recent past, in Sri Lanka, was the then opposition National People’s Power (NPP) alliance’s harangue about a “75-year-old curse.” The reference was to how long Sri Lanka had been independent, and how political elites of that time had gambled recklessly on Sri Lanka’s future.
Change That Never Ends
As with other countries undergoing painful austerity prescribed by institutions like the IMF, such messaging became widely popular in Sri Lanka. The villagers we talked to aligned themselves with it. They felt a change was necessary. “We can’t say we are stable now,” the economics teacher told us. “It is clear we cannot continue like this.”
It was a sign of things to come. In May we wrapped up shooting on the film. Two months later Democracy in Debt received its first international screening in Colombo. Attended by policymakers, diplomats, think-tank heads, and economists, among other groups, the documentary travelled to numerous other countries, including the US, Pakistan, the UK, and India. Two months later, presidential elections were held in the country.
The winner of the election, Anura Kumara Dissanayake, was a stalwart of the left-populist Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), who contested as a member of the wider leftwing NPP alliance. Two further months later, a parliamentary election threw out most of the country’s MPs and brought to power an entirely new generation of politicians.
As I saw these developments, my mind kept going back to Beena Sarwar’s film. One of the many interviews we had in Dutuwewa was with a Buddhist monk. Young, friendly, and deeply philosophical, he spoke on different subjects.
At the time, the US government was arresting university students for protesting US support for, and involvement in, Israel’s military campaigns. The monk was genuinely puzzled. He did not know why this was happening, especially when – he said – Western governments paraded themselves as harbingers of human rights. He could only quote from the teachings of the Buddha, and urge calm, restraint, and compassion.
Our conversation then returned to the economic crisis. Yet he kept dwelling on the protests and student arrests. Though the monk was one of many, many individuals we interviewed, his reflections stood out. They spoke to a society in quiet transition, but also a point which at once distilled that society and connected it to our wider humanity. At the end of the day, Democracy in Debt was about people, how they lived under the most onerous conditions – and how they aspired to not just exist and survive, but also live and thrive.
(Uditha Devapriya is an independent researcher, author, columnist, and analyst whose work spans international relations, history, anthropology, and politics. He holds an LL.B. from the University of London and a Postgraduate Diploma in International Relations from the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies (BCIS). In 2024 he was a participant in the International Visitor Leadership Program (IVLP) conducted by the US State Department. From 2022 to 2025 he served as Chief International Relations Analyst at Factum, an Asia-Pacific focused foreign policy think-tank. In 2025 he did two lecture stints in India, one as a Resident Fellow at the Kautilya School of Public Policy in Hyderabad and another on art and culture at the India International Centre in New Delhi. Since 2023, he has authored books on Sri Lankan institutions and public figures while pursuing research projects spanning art, culture, history, and geopolitics. He can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com)
Features
Citizenship, Devolution, Land and Language: The Vicarious Legacies of SJV Chelvanayakam
SJV Chelvanayakam, the founder leader of the Ilankai Thamil Arasu Kadchi, aka Ceylon Tamil Federal Party, passed away 49 years ago on 26 April 1977. There were events in Sri Lanka and other parts of the world where Tamils live, to commemorate his memory and his contributions to Tamil society and politics. His legacy is most remembered for his espousal of the cause of federalism and his commitment to pursuing it solely through non-violent politics. Chelvanayakam’s political life spanned a full 30 years from his first election as MP for Kankesanthurai in 1947 until his death in 1977.
Under the rubric of federalism, Chelvanayakam formulated what he called the four basic demands of the Tamil speaking people, a political appellation he coined to encompass – the Sri Lankan Tamils, Sri Lankan Muslims and the hill country Tamils (Malaiyaka Tamils). The four demands included the restoration of the citizenship rights of the hill country Tamils; cessation of state sponsored land colonisation in the North and East; parity of status for the Sinhala and Tamil languages; and a system of regional autonomy to devolve power to the northern and eastern provinces.
High-minded Politics
Although the four basic demands that Chelvanayakam articulated were not directly delivered upon during his lifetime, they became part of the country’s political discourse and dynamic to such an extent that they had to be dealt with, one way or another, even after his death. So, we can call these posthumous developments as Chelvanayakam’s vicarious legacies. There is more to his legacy. He belonged to a category of Sri Lankans, Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims, who took to politics, public life, public service, and even private business with a measure of high-mindedness that was almost temperamental and not at all contrived. Chelvanayakam personified high-minded politics. But he was not the only one. There were quite a few others in the 20th century. There have not been many since.
Born on 31 March 1898, Chelvanayakam was 49 years old when he entered parliament. He was not an upstart school dropout dashing into politics or coming straight out of the university, or even a hereditary claimant, but a self-made man, an accomplished lawyer, a King’s Counsel, later Queen’s Counsel, and was widely regarded as one of the finest civil lawyers of his generation. He was a serious man who took to politics seriously. Howard Wriggins, in his classic 1960 book, “Ceylon: Dilemmas of a New Nation”, called Chelvanayakam “the earnest Christian lawyer.”
Chelvanayakam’s professional standing, calm demeanour, his personal qualities of sincerity and honesty, and his friendships with men of the calibre of Sir Edward Jayatilleke KC (Chief Justice, 1950-52), H.V. Perera QC, P. Navaratnarajah, QC, and K.C. Thangarajah, were integral to his politics. The four of them were also mutual friends of Prime Minister SWRD Bandaranaike and they played a part in the celebrated consociational achievement in 1957, called the B-C Pact.
Chelvanayakam effortlessly combined elite consociationalism with grass roots politics and mass movements. He led the Federal Party both as a democratic organization and an open movement. Chelvanayakam and the Federal Party used parliament as their forum to present their case, the courts to fight for their rights, and took to organizing non-violent protests, political pilgrimages and satyagraha campaigns. He was imprisoned in Batticaloa, detained in Panagoda, and was placed under house arrest several times. His Alfred House Gardens neighbours in Colombo used to wonder why the government and the police were after him, of all people, and why wouldn’t they do something about his four boisterous, but studious, sons!
He was a rare politician who filed his own election petition when he was defeated in the 1952 election, his first as the leader of the Federal Party, and was rewarded with punitive damages by an exacting judge. He had to borrow money from Sir Edward Jayatilleke to pay damages. The common practice for losing candidates was to file vexatious petitions in the name of one of their supporters with no asset to pay legal costs. Chelvanayakam was too much of a principled man for that. As a matter of a different principle, the two old Left parties never challenged election losses in court, but Dr. Colvin R de Silva singled out Chelvanayakam’s uniqueness for praise in parliament, in the course of a debate on amendments to the country’s election laws in 1968.
Disenfranchisement & Disintegration
Although he became an MP in 1947, Chelvanayakam had been associated with GG Ponnambalam and the Tamil Congress Party for a number of years. GG was the flamboyant frontliner, SJV the quiet mainstay behind. Tamil politics at that time was all about representation. In fact, all politics in Sri Lanka has been all about representation all the time. It started when British colonial rulers began nominating local (Sinhala, Tamil, Muslim) representatives to quasi legislative bodies, and it became a contentious political matter after the introduction of universal franchise in 1931.
Communal representation was conveniently made to look ugly by those who themselves were politically communal. Indeed, under colonial rule, if not later too, Sri Lankans were a schizophrenic society where most Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims were socially friendly, but politically communal. The underlying premise to the fight over representation was that British colonialists were not leaving in a hurry and they were there to stay and rule for a long time. Hence the jostling for positions under a foreign master. It was in this context that Ponnambalam made his celebrated 50-50 pitch for balanced representation between the Sinhalese, on the one hand, and all the others – Tamils, Muslims, Indian Tamils – combined on the other. It was a perfectly rational proposition, but it was also perfectly poor politics.
But independence came far sooner than expected. The Soulbury Constitution was set up not for a continuing colonial state, but as the constitution for an independent new Ceylon. So, the argument for balanced representation became irrelevant in the new circumstances. The new Soulbury Constitution was enacted in 1945, general elections were held in 1947, a new parliament was elected, and Ceylon became independent in 1948. SJV Chelvanayakam was among the seven Tamil Congress MPs elected to the first parliament led by GG Ponnambalam.
The Tamil Congress campaigned in the 1947 election against accepting the Soulbury Constitution and for a vaguely formulated mandate “to cooperate with any progressive Sinhalese party which would grant the Tamil their due rights.” But what these rights are was not specified. In a Feb. 5, 1946 speech in Jaffna, Ponnambalam specifically proposed “responsive cooperation between the communities” – not parties – and advocated “a social welfare policy” to benefit not only the poor masses of Tamils but also the large masses of the Sinhalese.
So, when Ponnambalam and four of the seven Tamil Congress MPs decided to join the government of DS Senanayake with Ponnambalam accepting the portfolio of the Minister of Industries, Industrial Research and Fisheries, they were opposed by Chelvanayakam and two other Tamil Congress MPs. The immediate context for this split was the Citizenship question that arose soon after independence when DS Senanayake’s UNP government introduced the Ceylon Citizenship Bill in parliament. The purpose and effect of the bill was to deprive the estate Tamils of Indian origin (then numbering about 780,000) of their citizenship. Previously the government had got parliament to enact the Elections Act to stipulate that only citizens can vote in national elections. In one stroke, the whole working population of the plantations was disenfranchised.
GG Ponnambalam and all seven Tamil Congress MPs voted against the two bills. Joining them in opposition were the six MPs from the Ceylon Indian Congress representing the Malaiyaka Tamils and 18 Sinhalese MPs from the Left Parties. The Citizenship Bill was passed in Parliament on 20 August 1948. Ponnambalam called it a dark day for Ceylon and accused Senanayake of racism. But less than a month later, on September 3, 1948, he joined the Senanayake cabinet as a prominent minister and the government’s principal defender in parliamentary debates. Dr. NM Perera once called Ponnambalam “the devil’s advocate from Jaffna.”
Chelvanayakam remained in the opposition with two of his Congress colleagues. A little over an year later, on December 18, 1949, Chelvanayakam founded the Ilankai Tamil Arasu Kadchi, Federal Party in English. Not long after, joining Chelvanayakam in the opposition was SWRD Bandaranaike, who broke away from the UNP government over succession differences and went on to form another new political party, the Sri Lanka Freedom Party. As was his wont as a Marxist to see trends and patterns in politics, Hector Abhayavardhana saw the breakaways of Chelvanayakam and Bandaranaike, as well as the emergence of Thondaman as the leader of the disenfranchised hill country Tamils, as symptoms of a disintegrating society as it was transitioning from colonial rule to independence.
Abhayavardhana saw the Citizenship Act as the political trigger of this disintegration in the course of which “what was set up for the purpose of a future nation ended in caricature as a Sinhalese state.” Chelvanayakam may have agreed with this assessment even though he was located at the right end of the ideological continuum. “Ideologically, SJV is to the right of JR,” was part of political gossip in the old days. He saw “seeds of communism” in Philip Gunawardena’s Paddy Lands Act. For all their differences, Chelvanayakam and Ponnambalam were united in one respect – as unrepentant opponents of Marxism.
The Four Demands
Chelvanayakam had his work cut out as the leader of a new political party and pitting himself against a formidable political foe like Ponnambalam with all the ministerial resources at his disposal. Chelvanayakam may not have quite seen it that way. Rather, he saw his role as a matter of moral duty to fill the vacuum created by what he believed to be Ponnambalam’s betrayal, and to provide new leadership to a people who were at the crossroads of uncertainty after the unexpectedly early arrival of independence.
He set about his work by expanding his political constituency to include not only the island’s indigenous Tamils, but also the Muslims and the Tamil plantation workers from South India – as the island’s Tamil speaking people. It was he who vigorously introduced the disenfranchised Indian Tamils as hill country Tamils. In the aftermath of the Citizenship Act and disenfranchisement, restoring their citizenship rights became an obvious first demand for the new Party.
Having learnt the lesson from Ponnambalam’s failed 50-50 demand, Chelvanayakam territorialized the representation question by identifying the northern and eastern provinces as “traditional Tamil homelands,” and adding a measure regional autonomy to make up for the shortfall in representation at the national level in Colombo. To territorialization and autonomy, he added the cessation of state sponsored land colonization especially in the eastern province. Chelvanayakam and the Federal Party painstakingly explained that they were by no means opposed to Sinhalese voluntarily living in Tamil areas, either as a matter of choice, pursuing business or as government and private sector employees, but the nuancing was quite easily lost in the political shouting match.
The fourth demand, after citizenship, regional autonomy, and land, was about language. Language was not an issue when Chelvanayakam started the Federal Party. But he pessimistically predicted that sooner or later the then prevailing consensus, based on a State Council resolution, over equality between the two languages would be broken. He was proved right, sooner than later, and language became the explosive question in the 1956 election. As it turned out, the UNP government was thrown out, SWRD Bandaranaike led a coalition of parties to victory and government in the south, while SJV Chelvanayakam won a majority of the seats in the North and East, including two Muslims from Kalmunai and Pottuvil.
After the passage of the Sinhala Only Act on June 5, 1956, the Federal Party launched a political pilgrimage and mobilized a convention that was held in Trincomalee in the month of August. The four basic demands were concretized at the convention, viz., citizenship restoration for the hill country Tamils, parity of status for the Sinhala and Tamil languages, the cessation of state sponsored land colonization, and a system of regional autonomy in the Northern and Eastern Provinces.
The four demands became the basis for the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam agreement – the B-C Pact of 1957, and again the agreement between SJV Chelvanayakam and Dudley Senanayake in 1965. The former was abrogated by Prime Minister Bandaranaike under political duress but was not abandoned by him. The latter has been implemented in fits and starts.
The two agreements which should have been constitutionally enshrined, were severely ignored in the making of the 1972 Constitution and the 1978 Constitution – with the latter learning nothing and forgetting everything that its predecessor had inadvertently precipitated. The political precipitation was the rise of Tamil separatism and its companion, Tamil political violence. Ironically, Tamil separatism and violence created the incentive to resolve what Chelvanayakam had formulated and non-violently pursued as the four basic demands of the Tamils.
After his death in 1977, the citizenship question has finally been resolved. The 13th Amendment to the 1978 Constitution that was enacted in 1987 resolved the language question both in law and to an appreciable measure in practice. The same amendment also brought about the system of provincial councils, substantially fulfilling the regional autonomy demand of SJV Chelvanayakam. The land question, however, has taken a different turn with state sponsored land colonisation in the east giving way to government security forces sequestering private residential properties of Tamil families in the north, especially in the Jaffna Peninsula.
Further, the future of the Provincial Council system has become uncertain with the extended postponement of provincial elections by four Presidents and their governments, including the current incumbents. The provinces are now being administered by the President through handpicked governors without the elected provincial councils as mandated by the constitution. Imagine a Sri Lanka where there is only an Executive President and no parliament – not even a nameboard one. “What horror!”, you would say. But that is the microcosmic reality today in the country’s nine provinces.
by Rajan Philips
Features
Application of AI in Logistics in Sri Lanka can improve efficiency, reduce cost and enhance decision making
“AI increases profits while reducing un ethical intervention which is proven by Successful Global Business Models”
Artificial Intelligence(AI) is still only a buzz word in the Sri Lankan society, though many wanted to have an awareness of the concept the resources are scares, even still the IT industry has not formulated any awareness programs or a Degree yet to cope with the development. But world education warns that there want be any IT based jobs in future without learning the AI. AI has multiple use in any discipline and it has the ability to increase the efficiency of the work intern cut down the product or the service cost. Below description is how the application of AI can smoother the function of Logistic or the Supply Chain Management.
Using Artificial Intelligence (AI) in logistics can greatly improve efficiency, reduce costs, and enhance decision-making in simple enhance the profit margins. Below is a structured overview of how AI can be used in logistics, including key applications, tools, and real-world examples. Machine Learning(ML) is the foundation to AI but subsequently develops the capability of absorbing the information from the cloud (IT environment) and produce future behavior or trends by analyzing the fed data to the computers on a certain period of time. In some occasions vendors offer unbelievable discounts by using ML or AI, because it clearly understands the market behavior, human behavior, expiration and many other variables that gives the profits or losses to the product or the service.
Key Areas Where AI is Used in Logistics;
· Demand Forecasting
· Route Optimization
· Warehouse Automation
· Predictive Maintenance
· Inventory Management
· Supply chain Management
· Customer Service with Chat bots
· Fraud Detection and Risk Management
1. Demand Forecasting
AI can analyze historical data, market trends, and external factors (like weather or news) to:
· Predict product demand more accurately
· Optimize inventory levels
· Reduce stockouts or overstocking
Tools: Machine learning models (e.g., time series forecasting) and IT platforms/software like Amazon Forecast, Prophet by Meta. These are the software applications that helps to understand the future trends.
Amazon Forecasting software
Traditional forecasting methods typically rely on statistical modeling, but software like “Chronos” that treats time series data (data collected during a certain period of time) as a language to be modeled and uses a pre-trained FM (forecast Models) to generate forecasts, which similar to how “Large Language Models” (LLMs) generate texts helps you achieve accurate predictions faster, significantly reducing development time compared to traditional methods.
Prophet by Meta
Prophet is a very efficient and accurate procedure for forecasting time series data based on an additive model where non-linear trends are fit with yearly, weekly, and daily seasonality, plus holiday effects. It works best with time series that have strong seasonal effects and several seasons of historical data. This software adds many social, cultural and geographical variables other than internal information to decision making.
2. Route Optimization
AI-powered systems can calculate the most efficient delivery routes in real-time using:
· Traffic data
· Weather conditions
· Delivery time windows
· Vehicle capacity and fuel usage
Example: UPS (one of the largest Logistic companies in the world) uses its ORION system (AI-based) to save millions of gallons of fuel per year.
IT Tools: Google OR-Tools, Route4Me, Mapbox with ML integration.
The “Route4Me” IT platform automates and integrates mission-critical last mile workflows, empowering route planners, dispatchers, drivers, and managers to take the business to the next level. Distribution networks, passenger transportation networks can achieve much cost reduction by using above platforms. This is a good platform for the Sri Lanka passenger industry to reduce the overheads for the population. In Sri Lanka “Pick me” and “Uber” uses similar platforms in their transportation industry. Whole three wheeler industry can be regulating with this kind of software and transfer benefits to the passengers.
3. Warehouse Automation
AI enables:
· Robotics for picking, packing, and sorting
· Vision systems for scanning and inventory management
· Autonomous forklifts and drones for internal transport
Example: Amazon’s use of “Kiva robots” in fulfillment(distribution) centers.
Kiva Robots in Warehouses
Traditionally, goods are moved around a distribution center using a conveyor system or by human-operated machines (such as forklifts). In Kiva’s approach, items are stored in portable storage units. When an order is entered into the Kiva database system, the software locates the closest automated guided vehicle to the item and directs it to retrieve it. The mobile robots navigate around the warehouse by following a series of computerized bar-code stickers on the floor. Each drive unit has a sensor that prevents it from colliding with others. When the drive unit reaches the target location, it slides underneath the pod(Pallet) and lifts it off the ground through a corkscrew action. The robot then carries the pod to the specified human operator to pick up the items or subsequently hand over to the “drone” to deliver to the customer. Human intervention is minimal and accordingly overheads are reduced, Sri Lanka needs to achieve this kind of operational level in order to par with the international markets.
4. Predictive Maintenance
Traditionally Sri Lankans are week in maintenance, they basically wait until the machine stops in the other way bureaucratic too are much restrict on the maintenance and the procurement procedure. Applying this kind of maintenance software will eradicate all of these lethargies and the bureaucratic blocks. Subsequently continuing the smooth operations and productions.
AI monitors equipment (vehicles, conveyor belts, etc.) to:
· Predict when they will fail
· Schedule maintenance proactively
· Reduce downtime and repair costs
Tools: IoT(internet of things as cameras, sensors, GPS etc.) sensors + ML models (e.g., anomaly detection), IT platforms like IBM Maximo.
IBM Maximo is a multi-facet coordinator
“From equipment to factories, from fleets to infrastructure, Maximo Application Suite empowers users across verticals to coordinate maintenance and management for a broad range of asset classes”.
5. Supply Chain Visibility
AI can analyze data across the supply chain to:
· Track shipments in real-time
· Identify delays or bottlenecks
· Provide predictive ETAs
📦 Example: DHL (Logistic Company) uses AI to forecast transit delays and offer dynamic ETA updates.
This is an ideal tool for cargo management, ideal for sea ports and the air ports in Sri Lanka. This is one of the grave gray areas in the port system, though the port system is lacking the required information due to that the client has to pay the demurrages and warehouse cost for the ports. Also, cut down unnecessary delays and reduce bribes and corruption at all levels.
6. Inventory Management
AI helps optimize:
· Stock levels across multiple warehouses
· Replenishment timing
· Safety stock calculation
Tools: ERP (Entrepreneur Resource Planning) systems with embedded AI (e.g., SAP, Oracle), custom ML models.
These systems drastically reduce the human intervention and speedup the Supply management process.
7. Customer Service & Chatbots
AI-powered chatbots and virtual assistants can:
· Handle customer queries 24/7
· Track orders
· Provide personalized delivery updates
Tools: Dialogflow, Microsoft Bot Framework, ChatGPT API
Dialogflow
“Dialogflow” is a natural language understanding IT platform that makes it easy to design and integrate a conversational user interface into the mobile app, web application, device, bot, interactive voice response system, and so on. Using Dialogflow, establishments can provide new and engaging ways for users to interact with the product. Dialogflow can analyze multiple types of input from the customers, including text or audio inputs (like from a phone or voice recording). It can also respond to the customers in a couple of ways, either through text or with synthetic speech.
AI Conversational Chatbots Platform
Above IT platforms control the human intervention and reduce the cost of employees. Chatbots are basically efficient than the humans due to the high memory power for the standard customer inquiries. Application to Government sector will reduce the burden for the general public.
8. Fraud Detection & Risk Management
AI detects unusual patterns in:
· Orders
· Transactions
· Supplier behavior
Helps prevent:
· Cargo theft
· Counterfeit goods
· Financial fraud
*”KPMG Clara” for Supply Chain Risk Management
“KPMG Clara” is an AI-powered IT platform offering supply chain analytics, risk detection, and compliance management.
Key Features:
· AI-driven risk modeling
· ESG (Environmental, Social and Governance) and compliance monitoring
· Predictive analytics for disruptions
· Supplier risk scoring
“Geo Analysis” (AI based) IT platform in Supply Chain Access Control
Above IT platform Monitor access patterns across cross-border freight hubs, regional warehouses, and remote carrier logins. “Geo analysis” for supply chain authentication identifies impossible travel, geo-inconsistencies, and spoofed IPs to reduce credential abuse and unauthorized entry into logistics systems. This important IT platform can reduce corruption and many unethical practices, ideal tool for the Sri Lankan Government sector that can curb the mal practices.
Artificial Intelligence (AI) is a remarkable IT tool which can apply in almost all the sectors that can reap the Efficiency and Accuracy. In above paragraphs I have described the application in different stages of the Logistic or the Supply Chain Management. Application of AI tools can be done on stages as initially find the specific pain points pertaining to the supply chain and then, prepare data from the GPS, inventory systems, sales forecasts and supplier records. Subsequently can understand the specific AI platforms and ML models to suit the SCM operation. Further, can apply in a small scale as a pilot project and analyze impact as cost savings or efficiency gains. Once understand the model can roll out to other areas of operations in the establishment.
Final outcome will be “15% reduction in fuel cost, 20% faster deliveries, Increased customer satisfaction”
There may be many negative lobbies since this is new to the many sectors in the country and further ability to proof the corruption but proper education and understanding the world AI based business models, establishments can reach the required goal.
(Writer can be reached at, chandana_w@yahoo.com)
by Lt Col. Chandana Weerakoon.
Chartered Logistician
Features
Motherhood is not ‘giving up’
Since having my baby, I have been regularly met with the question, “Are you back at work?”
“No,”
I reply. “I am doing my PhD from home.”
Several emotions arise. I feel guilty that I am not back at work, that somehow I should be. I also feel relieved that I can justify my time at home by offering up the PhD as a worthy endeavour. Sometimes, the person responds in surprise, “Oh, so no work?” Other times, they are approving, “How lucky for you and your baby.” Occasionally, there is the advice, “Don’t give up work.”
At the back of my mind are certain thoughts. “Am I not ‘working’? Isn’t the work of motherhood also considered ‘work’? If it isn’t, shouldn’t it be?”
Although the questions, comments, and advice about returning to work are made innocently enough, mostly benevolently, they have prompted me to reflect on the idea of work and motherhood, and how mothers and society view both.
Motherhood, I believe, is a full-time, highly skilled, unpaid job that never ends. All mothers work at least two jobs. They do the work of mothering, and also work in either a paid or unpaid additional role. Many women will do even more. They mother, care for their elderly parents, work a paid job, voluntarily contribute to community building, and try to fit in creative pursuits, hobbies, or ‘self-care’ when they can.
Motherhood requires many skills. You are, effectively, the CEO of your family and home (with hopefully a supportive co-CEO by your side). There is the work of child-rearing, which requires patience, energy, creativity, presence, flexibility, courage, fortitude, knowledge, and the ability to research, learn, and unlearn. You are raising the future. Then there is the work of home and family life, which requires skills in leadership, organisation, prioritisation, delegation, negotiation, financial management, crisis management, and conflict resolution. There is also the internal work of being self-aware, forgiving yourself and others, practicing compassion, and accepting the inherent imperfections of ‘doing it all’.
This work of motherhood is now recognised as ‘unpaid caregiving and domestic work’ and ‘invisible labour’ by international organisations such as the United Nations. It includes physical labour, direct care labour, mental or cognitive labour, and emotional labour, and is mostly the work of women.
I am not complaining. Men have their own unpaid labour. I love being a mother and wife. I view it as a privilege and a blessing. Ideally, the job can also be supported by paid or unpaid help. My point is that the work of women, and specifically mothers, should be recognised and respected, not only by society, but also by women and mothers themselves.
I know it is not just me who has experienced conflicting emotions about ‘giving up’ traditional work to focus on family life. Within my social circle and more widely, mothers describe a loss of self-worth and identity unless they are ‘working mothers’, and feeling embarrassment and guilt when asked the dreaded question, “What do you do?” There is the loss of financial dignity that comes with taking on an unpaid job, no matter how important you may think it is. Dynamics with husbands also need to shift, where both members are viewed as equally valuable to making the business of ‘home’ successful.
Neha Ruch, the author of The Power Pause, is an American brand strategist-turned-full-time stay-at-home mother and home maker, who addresses this very issue. Many of my thoughts for this article are based on her book. She argues that the time a woman wishes to invest in this phase of life, motherhood and family life, is valuable, not just for the children or family unit, but for the mother herself. It is a time for growth, skill-building, and expanding networks and connections.
Often, it leads women in new, creative, and more fulfilling directions, and provides an opportunity for them to re-enter the workforce on their own terms. She also points out that ‘the pause’ is not a luxury for a lucky minority, as many women become the default caregiver for their children if childcare is too costly, or not the preferred option. Through the movement she has created, Ruch provides legitimacy, validation, and structure to this phase of life (because, after all, it is only a phase, not forever) that is often spoken of as mindless, monotonous, and unglamorous, and I am grateful for it.
I suppose what I am saying is, next time you meet a mother, consider asking her, “How are you?”, and next time I am asked what I do, I should proudly declare (using Ruch’s script), “Right now, I am on a career pause and get to be home with my baby, and I am exploring possibilities for the future.”
(Lihini Wijeyaratne Cooray
Lihini is rediscovering her love for writing while embracing first-time motherhood and her ‘Power Pause’. She is also navigating her roles as a doctor and PhD researcher. She hopes that her writing can inspire a fresh perspective on motherhood as being valuable, powerful, and exciting.)
by Lihini Wijeyaratne Cooray
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