Features
A singular modern Lankan mentor – Part I
Gananath Obeysekere: In search of Buddhist conscience (Baudha Hurdasakshiya Soya)
by Laleen Jayamanne and Namika Raby
“People were nourished by stories.” (Kathandarawalinne minissu jeewathwune) Gananath
“Man does not live by bread alone” Matthew 4:4
Dimuthu Saman Wettasinghe’s film Gananath Obeyesekere: In Search of Buddhist Conscience opens with a bravura tracking shot moving past trees, water, a splash of saffron robes. These sunlit images are enfolded in a non-religious, rather melancholy male choral chant, but soon the singular voice of Professor Gananath Obeyesekere cuts through with a kind of Dionysian intensity. He tells us a story about Gauthama Buddha, as the camera encircles, at speed, what turns out to be the Kandy Lake. His tale is about a devastating war waged by the king of Kosla against the Sakya kingdom but of the Buddha’s unshakable belief that if folk get together and discuss matters in good faith (call it diplomacy), all wars could be averted. This carefully and deeply researched, imaginative, ‘Educational Film’ of 142 minutes, with its exhilaratingly dense overture and its subtle montage, is a loving tribute to an exemplary Lankan scholar/teacher and his life work (of some 70 years) as an internationally renowned Anthropologist.
In my understanding of Classical Greek Theatre and Indian Philosophy (both studied at the University Ceylon Peradeniya in the late 60’s), ‘Dionysian intensity’ and Buddhist thought don’t sit easily together, Dionysus being the god of Greek Drama and festivity and as such, of intoxication and ecstasy, while Buddhist ideas of Reason, logical debate and introspective awareness of mental processes (Vipassana, Insight), were original contributions to perennial Indian Philosophy. But the wonder is that Gananath as a thinker was able to yolk together vastly diverse fields of scholarship and practices from many traditions, languages, and impart them to students in a memorable manner. In this two-fold activity, his voice was a powerful pedagogical instrument (in a musical sense) and tool (as in crafting words and sentences by breathing life into them). Let me elaborate with an anecdote I heard recently from a friend who was one of Gananath’s students from the mid-1960s at Peradeniya. The Anthropologist Dr Namika Rabi, who now in her retirement lives in LA, was a freshman then. She told me the following when I asked her what it was like listening to him:
One afternoon my room-mate Romaine Rutnam said to me that there is this interesting talk on campus, under the Popular Science Series delivered by Dr. Gananath Obeyesekere, with an interesting title, “Pregnancy Cravings (Dola Duka) and Social Structure in a Sinhalese Village” that we should go and listen to. The talk appealed because it was grounded in real society. I wondered where this faculty member came from, and I found out that there was a Department of Sociology and Dr. Obeyesekere was its Chair. One had to apply to the programme and get accepted and it was a four-year programme. I applied and got in, forgetting my plan to leave the campus in three years.
Professor Obeyesekere taught me Social Theory; Anthropological Methods; Anthropology of Religion; and Social and Cultural Organisation. Professor Obeyesekere brought dynamism into the classroom with his style of teaching, integrating abstract theory with how it works in practice through kathandara and carried me away with it”.
Though I myself was not a student of Gananath’s I have been to some of his seminars and listened to his public lectures over the years, both in Lanka and elsewhere. In the early 90s we organised a seminar by Gananath, (on what he called his ‘Cook Book’!), in the Dept. of Anthropology at The University of Sydney. His, The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Myth Making in the Pacific, led to a major Anthropological debate with Marshall Sahllins, on Cannibalism and ‘Primitivism’ in Colonial-Anthropology in Hawaii where Cook was killed by the indigenous folk. I certainly agree with Namika on the unusual power of Gananath’s oral communication with students and fellow academics, and crucially, with the interested public. One always gets the feeling that he is thinking on his feet, with a strong awareness of the listener (as in theatre), and then he varies his colloquial tone with humour, a wise crack here, a touch of irony there. Listening to him becomes enjoyable. He manifestly enjoys communicating ideas, his self-enjoyment in explicating them in accessible ways is infectious. He had an intuitive grasp of the theatrical dimensions of lecturing, in a place within the academy after all called, a ‘Lecture Theatre’. These ‘dynamics’, as Namika puts it, are so rare in the genre of the university lecture where we drone on for an hour or two each week, reading from stale notes, tone deaf, burning brain cells of young minds instead of firing them. Tone deafness is an occupational hazard of lecturing.
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Here’s Namika elaborating on how Gananath guided her in her scholarly and professional life. It is evident from her account that visionary Mentors do not produce clones but rather draw out and nurture the talents of a student well before she knows she has some.
Namika Raby: A Student’s Perspective
“As a cultural anthropologist Gananath’s ability to communicate abstract thinking into the classroom through dramatic performance is an integration of scientific Reason and Dionysian intensity. Beyond his voice, in my time, he was a performer. I remember him explaining the role of the sanni demon, a lowly creature in Sinhalese Buddhism, mimicking the demon, Gananath hopped with a banana on his toe to portray the demon.
Gananath had many illustrious students over time. However, I was a unique case because of my ethnicity and gender and a lifetime of what I call my Gananath “interventions” beginning during my days in the Department of Anthropology, Peradeniya. Nagging me to apply to graduate school and persuading my parent with a home visit to send me to graduate school abroad are a couple of examples of these interventions. Our ties are enduring, accompanying me throughout my career and life. So, I could say our ties evolved in multifaceted ways over half a century, as a teacher, a mentor, and my adoptive family with Ranjini in La Jolla into a holistic relationship. My husband and I had Sunday dinner with the Obeyesekere family, Gananath, an excellent cook, did Sunday dinners. One time we arrived and lo and behold a duck was hanging upside down from Gananath’s study window. He was preparing Peking Duck.
In my early training under Gananath, a memorable example was learning to do fieldwork. As undergraduates it was mandatory to do fieldwork during college breaks. As he said, “don’t come into my class if you don’t muddy your feet in the field.” He assigned us a location and ideas to study. He looked at me and said, “you’re a girl, you can go from home and study the Kachcheri, it is fascinating.”
I think of the irony of a researcher studying the meaning of exotic rituals advising me to find meaning in a bureaucracy. Kachcheri Bureaucracy in Sri Lanka: The Culture and Politics of Accessibility was the subject of my Ph.D. thesis, and my first publication. Once I learned to bring in the meanings of culture as they interfaced with rational structures, procedures, I was trained at the International Water Management Institute (IWMI) to apply my insights to irrigation bureaucracy and technology of irrigation for practical solutions. This became my life’s work. When I applied for a Post-Doctoral fellowship at IWMI, Gananath wrote a letter in support. With IWMI’s interdisciplinary team I researched and published on Mahaweli System H and Irrigation Management for Crop Diversification to be followed by work in the northern Philippines; This experience led to my recruitment and training by the World Bank. I worked on designing and evaluating National Irrigation Projects for The World Bank, in the Philippines; UN/FAO in India; and in Imperial Valley, California.
This eldest daughter of Muslim parents from Matara, Kotuwegoda, who boarded a plane for the first time to go to graduate school in California, was able to travel back to Sri Lanka to walk the rice fields of Galnewa; climb the hills of Northern Philippines to study the zanjeras (community managed farms); walk 22km of the Indira Gandhi Canal in Rajasthan, with my team, in darkness and pouring rain with a Jat elder leading us with his torch made of palm leaves and chanting jai hind; see the beauty of ancient Rome on my way to work at the Investment Center, FAO; work for the World Bank in the highly secured environment of Cali, Colombia; and study irrigation under drought in arid Imperial County, California by walking the extent of the All American Canal, and farms cultivating fruits and vegetables. Perhaps my most rewarding work came as an academic, (without time constraints, and fortunate to be funded by a grant by the American Institute for Lankan Studies) when I completed my case study of Ridi Bendi Ela (Alla) and Magallavava, Nikerawetiya, where the Government of Sri Lank did a pilot study of a Farmer Company established under the Companies Act. Farmer organizations based on purana, and newly settled villages. A total of 11 villages covered the command area of the tank.
Prof. Obeysekere with folk masks
In his very earliest work Land Tenure in Village Ceylon, Gananath challenged the western notion of the homogenous village of kinship and landownership and showed in great detail how land holding patterns defined what a village was.
In Ridi Bendi Ela, with a few exceptions, landholding cut across villages and during droughts farmers practiced thattumaru (rotated land holdings seasonally), as described in Gananath’s work. In my villages the relationships based on landholding patterns were complicated by landless outsiders settled as colonists by the Government. In these villages I also observed the doctrine/thought vs practice dimensions of Buddhism with relation to rice cultivation.
This pilot project trained farmers to undertake off-farm income generation activities, and progressively undertake self- management of the canal network. Magallavava, the tank, dates to 276-303 AD, constructed by King Mahasena (according to historical records), and according to some villagers, by king Pandukabaya. According to local legend, during the time of Lord Buddha, a prince and princess from India heard of the plight of the drought ridden villagers and brought silver coins to build the anicut to Magallavava, hence the name Ridi Bendi. Gananath often told us, “history matters.
These experiences became teaching tools in the classroom at California State University, Long Beach. Gananath’s film Kataragama: The God for All Seasons (story of Kareem included), remained a favourite with our students at every level.
Isn’t it interesting Dr. Obeyesekere, you asked me to muddy my feet in the field and I ended up spending my career doing just that?”
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In Search of Buddhist Conscience
(Baudha Hurdasakshiya Soya), skilfully interweaves the multiple strands of Gananath’s life and work. They are: his family background in a village (his multi-lingual father, an Ayurvedic physician trained in Calcutta and writer, and an anti-colonial thinker, as was his maternal grandfather); his married life with Ranjini Ellepola and their profound shared ethic of education, love of language, a feel for the aesthetic and generous hospitality to students and friends; his robust education locally which made him fluently bilingual and in the US; discussions with a large number of scholars, including Gananath and Ranjini, and also a Pattini Kapumahattaya, providing illuminating, lively commentaries on his work; explication of a series of his key texts and their concepts across his very long career; a rich array of images (stills and film clips) from Gananth’s extensive ethnographic archive where we see a young Gananath in the field with his multi-ethnic research teams. The filmmaker Dharmasiri Bandaranayke’s ‘teacherly documentary voice-over’, synthesises some of the facts, which helps, as there is so much rich material and new ideas to take in. Because of the careful interweaving of these many strands through the montage and the long duration of the film overall, it has a relaxed tempo, but one also feels a sense of urgency, the urgency of the ‘search’ (for Gananath and these dedicated young filmmakers too), in the Lankan historical political context of cycles of organised state violence against Tamil people including the long civil war, since political Independence in 1948.
Together, the very title ‘In Search of Buddhist Conscience’ and the melancholy chant (not a gatha but playing with its sonic memory, given the mise-en-scene of the iconic Temple of the Tooth, Dalada Maligawa glimpsed in the background), which opens the film, suggest a ‘loss’. A loss of conscience, the loss of a Buddhist conscience which was once robust in Lanka as manifested in the expansive, tolerant folk traditions, presented as incontrovertible ethnographic evidence. The film examines Gananath’s anthropological work as an intellectual (historical, ethnographic, theoretical, and yes, aesthetic) reclamation of the syncretic richness of the Buddhist and Hindu folk traditions as they intersected in all their hybrid multiplicity and presents the multi-ethnic folk of Lanka, both men and especially the women, who embodied their values so vibrantly, eloquently, intransigently and therefore unforgettably.
I am blown away by the suggestive power of this film for possible research on the Lankan folk archives of the Tamil Hindu traditions and what may be called an inclusive, vital, Buddhist folk imaginary, and material culture, through Gananath’s scholarship. One learns about Lanka’s deep cultural connections with South India from the ethnographic record as analysed and theorised by Gananath. For a lapsed Roman Catholic like me, the film is a profound revelation about my country of birth where I lived my first 23 years. Walter Benjamin wrote his essay ‘The Story Teller’ at a moment in Western modernity when the richly diverse European oral traditions were long gone and yet his essay, shot through with melancholy, catches light like a little gem every now and then, depending on how and why one might reread it under the pressure of the present moment baring down like a tonne of bricks, obliterating a future, inconceivable without a sense of a deep past, linked to legends, stories, ‘folk lore’ of the people. The film indicates that much of what the film dramatizes is now archival material, the living traditions mostly lost in processes of modernisation and westernisation of Buddhism itself. However, Gananath is no melancholy European Jewish intellectual like Walter Benjamin.
The ’dramatis persona’ ‘Gananath’ who comes across in Dimuthu’s film is an intellectual whose scholarly and indeed existential understanding of the tragedy of our post-independence etho-nationalist history, has not dampened his irrepressible sense of humour and a feel for the comic in public life and in the Lecture Theatre. After all, Dionysus presided over the genres of tragedy, comedy and the Satyr plays in the Civic Theatre Festival in Athens, the City Dionysia. And I have no doubt that Gananth has read his favourite thinker Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy in the Spirit of Music. But then Gananath has also imbibed the theatrical comic ribald humour and delight in high farce from our robust folk rituals. Two walls of his beautiful home in Kandy are shown decorated with a rare collection of comic-grotesque-scary folk masks (of the Sannyas and Demons) of Lanka, awaiting a museum that would house them. There is a precious group photo of Anthropologists at the famous Folk Art Museum in Bali, in Ubud, where a young Gananath is seen in the company of the legendary Margret Mead and others. I saw a Lankan Demon mask there when I visited the museum and now imagine that Gananath probably arranged for that demon to join his South Asian ‘na yakku’ (kith and kin demons) – this phrase in Sinhala makes me crack up! Gananath has brought both intensity and laughter into the intellectual arena of the academic lecture, making his pedagogic style unforgettable. This film is also a testament to that evanescent, spirited performance of a singular modern Lankan ‘guru’, in the sense of mentor who incites students to learn to think for themselves and strike a path of their own. By his own example he teaches us the irresistible art of critical thinking.
(To be continued)
The government is rebuilding the cyclone-devastated lives, livelihoods and infrastructure in the country after the immense destruction caused by Cyclone Ditwah. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has been providing exceptional leadership by going into the cyclone affected communities in person, to mingle directly with the people there and to offer encouragement and hope to them. A President who can be in the midst of people when they are suffering and in sorrow is a true leader. In a political culture where leaders have often been distant from the everyday hardships of ordinary people, this visible presence would have a reassuring psychological effect.
The international community appears to be comfortable with the government and has been united in giving it immediate support. Whether it be Indian and US helicopters that provided essential airlift capacity or cargo loads of relief material that have come from numerous countries, or funds raised from the people of tiny Maldives, the support has given Sri Lankans the sense of being a part of the world family. The speed and breadth of this response has contrasted sharply with the isolation Sri Lanka experienced during some of the darker moments of its recent past.
There is no better indicator of the international goodwill to Sri Lanka as in the personal donations for emergency relief that have been made by members of the diplomatic corps in Sri Lanka. Such gestures go beyond formal diplomacy and suggest a degree of personal confidence in the direction in which the country is moving. The office of the UN representative in Sri Lanka has now taken the initiative to launch a campaign for longer term support, signalling that emergency assistance can be a bridge to sustained engagement rather than a one-off intervention.
Balanced Statement
In a world that has turned increasingly to looking after narrow national interests rather than broad common interests, Sri Lanka appears to have found a way to obtain the support of all countries. It has received support from countries that are openly rivals to each other. This rare convergence reflects a perception that Sri Lanka is not seeking to play one power against another, and balancing them, but rather to rebuild itself on the basis of stability, inclusiveness and responsible governance.
An excerpt from an interview that President Dissanayake gave to the US based Newsweek magazine is worth reproducing. In just one paragraph he has summed up Sri Lankan foreign policy that can last the test of time. A question Newsweek put to the president was: “Sri Lanka sits at the crossroads of Chinese built infrastructure, Indian regional influence and US economic leverage. To what extent does Sri Lanka truly retain strategic autonomy, and how do you balance these relationships?”
The president replied: “India is Sri Lanka’s closest neighbour, separated by about 24 km of ocean. We have a civilisational connection with India. There is hardly any aspect of life in Sri Lanka that is not connected to India in some way or another. India has been the first responder whenever Sri Lanka has faced difficulty. India is also our largest trading partner, our largest source of tourism and a significant investor in Sri Lanka. China is also a close and strategic partner. We have a long historic relationship—both at the state level and at a political party level. Our trade, investment and infrastructure partnership is very strong. The United States and Sri Lanka also have deep and multifaceted ties. The US is our largest market. We also have shared democratic values and a commitment to a rules-based order. We don’t look at our relations with these important countries as balancing. Each of our relationships is important to us. We work with everyone, but always with a single purpose – a better world for Sri Lankans, in a better world for all.”
Wider Issues
The President’s articulation of foreign relations, especially the underlying theme of working with everyone for the wellbeing of all, resonates strongly in the context of the present crisis. The willingness of all major partners to assist Sri Lanka simultaneously suggests that goodwill generated through effective disaster response can translate into broader political and diplomatic space. Within the country, the government has been successful in calling for and in obtaining the support of civil society which has an ethos of filling in gaps by seeking the inclusion of marginalised groups and communities who may be left out of the mainstream of development.
Civil society organisations have historically played a crucial role in Sri Lanka during times of crisis, often reaching communities that state institutions struggle to access. Following a meeting with CSOs, at which the president requested their support and assured them of their freedom to choose, the CSOs mobilised in all flood affected parts of the country, many of them as part of a CSO Collective for Emergency Response. An important initiative was to undertake the task of ascertaining the needs of the cyclone affected people. Volunteers from a number of civil society groups fanned out throughout the country to collect the necessary information. This effort helped to ground relief efforts in real needs rather than assumptions, reducing duplication and ensuring that assistance reached those most affected.
The priority that the government is currently having to give to post-cyclone rebuilding must not distract it from giving priority attention to dealing with postwar issues. The government has the ability and value-system to resolve other national problems. Resolving issues of post disaster rebuilding in the aftermath of the cyclone have commonalities in relation to the civil war that ended in 2009. The failure of successive governments to address those issues has prompted the international community to continuously question and find fault with Sri Lanka at the UN. This history has weighed heavily on Sri Lanka’s international standing and has limited its ability to fully leverage external support.
Required Urgency
At a time when the international community is demonstrating enormous goodwill to Sri Lanka, the lessons learnt from their own experiences, and the encouraging support they are giving Sri Lanka at present, can and must be utilised. The government under President Dissanayake has committed to a non-racist Sri Lanka in which all citizens will be treated equally. The experience of other countries, such as the UK, India, Switzerland, Canada and South Africa show that problems between ethnic communities also require inter community power sharing in the form of devolution of power. Countries that have succeeded in reconciling diversity with unity have done so by embedding inclusion into governance structures rather than treating it as a temporary concession.
Sri Lanka’s present moment of international goodwill provides a rare opening to learn from these experiences with the encouragement and support of its partners, including civil society which has shown its readiness to join hands with the government in working for the people’s wellbeing. The unresolved problems of land resettlement, compensation for lost lives and homes, finding the truth about missing persons continue to weigh heavily on the minds and psyche of people in the former war zones of the north and east even as they do so for the more recent victims of the cyclone.
Unresolved grievances do not disappear with time. They resurface periodically, often in moments of political transition or social stress, undermining national cohesion. The government needs to ensure sustainable solutions not only to climate related development, but also to ethnic peace and national reconciliation. The government needs to bring together the urgency of disaster recovery with the long-postponed task of political reform as done in the Indonesian province of Aceh in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami for which it needs bipartisan political support. Doing so could transform a national tragedy into a turning point for long lasting unity and economic take-off.
by Jehan Perera
Lessons from Ditwah:
Fifteen days after Cyclone Ditwah tore through the country, the floodwaters have receded and the immediate shock has given way to reflection. As of December 14, 2025, the bodies recovered from landslides have been laid to rest, survivors, whose homes were wiped out, are sheltered in Suraksha centres, and daily life has begun to inch forward. Roads, nearly 80 percent of them, have been reopened, power and water restored, and communities, through individual resolve and collective effort, have cleared homes and roads, even as heaps of damaged belongings still line the roadsides. Now, as the initial dust settles, the nation stands at a critical moment: beyond recovery, it is time to confront the deeper structural weaknesses laid bare by Ditwah.
Cyclone Ditwah has emerged as a defining test for Sri Lanka, both for the newly elected NPP government, facing its first major natural disaster, and for a nation still recovering from the economic collapse of 2022 and navigating the constraints of an IMF bailout programme. The storm not only challenged the country’s disaster-response machinery but also revealed the resilience of its people, the strengths of its leadership, and the gaps that must be urgently addressed as climate-related catastrophes become increasingly frequent.
Presidential Leadership in Times of National Crisis
From the earliest hours of the cyclone’s impact, President Anura Kumara Dissanayaka took an active and visible role in directing the government machinery. His rapid mobilisation of state institutions, technical agencies, and the Armed Forces helped Sri Lanka confront a multi-layered and complex emergency that spanned damaged roads, disrupted power lines, unsafe water supplies, landslides, and widespread displacement. The administration’s coordination, during these initial hours, set the tone for what became one of the most intensive emergency-response efforts in recent years. Mobilising and coordinating government institutions solely through presidential initiative is not an ideal administrative practice. A resilient state must, instead, ensure that its institutions are structurally prepared to act seamlessly when disaster strikes, closing the systemic gaps exposed by Cyclone Ditwah.
The President’s visits to all affected districts strengthened on-the-ground coordination by bringing together district coordinating committees, public officials, political representatives, and community organisations to align relief and reconstruction with local realities, while also helping to identify bottlenecks and clarify institutional responsibilities. However, these same district-level meetings exposed serious shortcomings in disaster governance: weak inter-agency communication, unclear response mandates, gaps in early-warning systems, and uneven political leadership at the local level. In several instances, critical information failed to reach the right actors in time, and some elected representatives were slow to engage, prompting the President to direct provincial governors to personally assess landslide-prone areas—underscoring the urgent need for a more robust, integrated disaster-management framework and stronger local political participation during crises.
Cyclone Ditwah serves as a powerful reminder that Sri Lanka must prepare better, long before the next storm arrives. Effective disaster response depends not only on the commitment of the central government and security forces but also on pre-trained communities and seamless cooperation between agencies at every administrative tier. This article seeks to contribute to a constructive national conversation on the lessons learned from Cyclone Ditwah. The intention is not to assign blame but to highlight the insights necessary to build a more resilient, better-coordinated system capable of protecting lives and livelihoods in the face of future disasters.
Equally notable was the spontaneous civic mobilisation that unfolded across the country. Communities self-organised to clear debris, distribute food, assist vulnerable families, and provide temporary shelter, demonstrating a deep social solidarity that often surfaces during national crises. In many affected districts, local volunteers were the first to reach remote or isolated areas, complementing government and military operations.
Rethinking Responses to Recurrent Climate Emergencies
Sri Lanka is no stranger to weather-related disasters, and Cyclone Ditwah is neither the first nor the last event the nation will confront. Over the past decade alone, the country has endured floods, landslides, droughts, and cyclones of varying intensity. These recurring emergencies underscore an undeniable truth: climate-related shocks are now a structural part of Sri Lanka’s future, demanding a disaster-management system that is agile, integrated, and continuously updated.
After the devastation of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, Sri Lanka invested significant effort in building its institutional infrastructure for disaster risk reduction. Agencies were established, frameworks were drafted, and early-warning mechanisms were introduced with the hope of preventing a repeat of such a tragedy. Yet the experience of Cyclone Ditwah has revealed that many of these institutions have become moribund—functioning in isolation, following outdated protocols, and lacking the coordination needed for an effective national response. While the systems technically exist, they are not fully aligned with the mission they were created to serve. Too many agencies operate within narrowly defined mandates and fail to communicate or integrate their work with related entities. This siloed approach weakens the overall national response and limits the ability of institutions to mobilise collectively when disaster strikes.
Once again Ditwah highlighted the need for reliable early-warning system that requires constant technological upgrading. A robust interface between technology and institutional networks is essential. Advanced and accessible communication technologies—early-warning systems, mobile alerts, satellite data, and community-level dissemination platforms— should play a crucial role in transforming timely information into effective action. Timely alerts, data-sharing mechanisms, communication networks, and community-level outreach must keep pace with global standards and evolving climatic threats. The gaps observed during Cyclone Ditwah indicate that Sri Lanka’s early warning systems need stronger digital infrastructure, better interoperability, and clearer channels for dissemination to all communities, especially those in vulnerable zones. Disaster risk management cannot rely solely on community participation.
Building a Disaster Management Architecture
Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948 in the aftermath of the devastating island-wide floods in 1947. Since then, the country has repeatedly faced severe natural disasters—particularly windstorms and floods—in 1957, 1964, 1969, 1976, 1986, and 1989. Yet, despite this long and painful history, no single, dedicated institutional mechanism existed, within the state, to manage disaster-related activities, until the mid-1990s. Responsibility for disaster response remained fragmented across multiple agencies, largely operating under the broad and limited mandate of social services.
A decisive institutional shift began in 1994 with the establishment of the National Disaster Management Centre (NDMC) by President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, under the Ministry of Social Welfare. The NDMC was tasked with coordinating disaster preparedness, mitigation, emergency response, recovery, and long-term rehabilitation and development. It also initiated the development of a comprehensive legal and policy framework for disaster management. By 2000, the NDMC had completed draft versions of the Disaster Management Bill and the National Disaster Management Plan. However, these initiatives stalled and were never formally adopted following the change of government in 2001.
The catastrophic human, economic, and social consequences of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami starkly exposed the limitations of this incomplete framework and underscored the urgent need for a systematic and comprehensive approach to disaster management. In response, disaster preparedness was elevated to a national priority, and on 10 February, 2005, a bipartisan Parliamentary Select Committee was appointed. Its mandate was to examine gaps in preparedness revealed by the Tsunami of 26 December, 2004, assess the absence of effective early-warning mechanisms, and recommend measures to strengthen institutional readiness and reduce the impact of future natural disasters.
The Parliamentary Select Committee met 28 times and produced a wide-ranging report within a short span, marking a decisive policy moment in Sri Lanka’s approach to disaster management. Its findings laid bare deep structural weaknesses in hazard mapping and risk assessment, preparedness, early-warning systems, mitigation, emergency response, and public awareness. Acting on these recommendations, Parliament enacted the Sri Lanka Disaster Management Act, No. 13 of 2005—finally providing a legal foundation for coordinated disaster governance.
The Disaster Management Act of 2005 brought forward significant changes in the institutional framework for disaster management. It created the National Council for Disaster Management (NCDM), a high-level political body, chaired by the President, with the Prime Minister as Vice Chair, and established the Disaster Management Centre (DMC) as the country’s lead implementing agency. The DMC was mandated to coordinate disaster risk reduction at national and sub-national levels, supported by Disaster Management Committees at district and divisional levels. A dedicated Cabinet Ministry of Disaster Management and Human Rights followed in 2006, later streamlined as the Ministry of Disaster Management in 2010. On paper, this architecture promised coherence, authority, and reach.
Parallel to the setting up of new institutional framework for disaster management, the process of disaster management policy planning and policy formulation has taken a new turn. ‘The Disaster Management Policy of 2010’, prepared by DMC, in 2010, was adopted as the main policy line for disaster management. Furthermore, DMC developed ‘The National Disaster Management Plan of 2013-2017’(NDMP) in 2014 as the overall guiding document covering intended activities of the major phases–mitigation, preparedness, emergency operations and post disaster activities, such as relief, recovery and reconstruction. Training, public awareness and education are also covered in the above phases. It envisaged a multi-sector approach in which involvement of NGOs and CBOs are expected to translate policies into tangible action. Further, in 2014, NCDM approved the Sri Lanka Comprehensive Disaster Management Programme (SLCDMP) for 2014-2018 to reduce disaster and climate risks by minimising impacts on people, properties, and the economy. SLCDMP also presented a comprehensive roadmap to improve capacity of local level operators by institutionalising local level support in its planning. It was prepared by the National Disaster Management Coordinating Committee (NDMCC), a multi-stakeholder national platform, established in November 2007 who also plays a key role in implementing disaster risk reduction strategies in the country. This is a clear manifestation of confusion and duplication of disaster management work.
Technological and informational capacities improved with the establishment of a Disaster Information System in 2008, supported by UNDP, and the gradual rollout of nationwide early-warning systems. Responsibility for hazard monitoring was formally vested in the Meteorological Department and the Geological Survey and Mines Bureau, operating through the Disaster Management Centre’s Emergency Operations Centre. While these developments marked genuine progress, their effectiveness has remained uneven in practice. International partners, such as UNDP, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information, but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.
Fragmented Institutions and the Cost of Poor Coordination
At the heart of these shortcomings are deeper features of Sri Lanka’s political and administrative culture. Disaster management has frequently been treated as a politically advantageous domain—offering visibility and access to state resources—resulting in its fragmentation across multiple ministries and agencies. This dispersion undermines integrated planning, weakens accountability, and hampers coordination precisely when speed and clarity are most critical. The consequences of inadequate preparedness, poor inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent public messaging have repeatedly emerged during major crises. This was evident in the MV X-Press Pearl disaster in May 2021, where information on hazardous cargo damage was not shared across agencies. Similarly, the lack of inter-agency communication was a prominent issue during Cyclone Ditwah in December 2025.
Technological and informational capacities improved with the establishment of a Disaster Information System in 2008, supported by UNDP, and the gradual rollout of nationwide early-warning systems. Responsibility for hazard monitoring was formally vested in the Meteorological Department and the Geological Survey and Mines Bureau, operating through the Disaster Management Centre’s Emergency Operations Centre. However, their effectiveness has remained uneven in practice.
International partners, such as UNDP and other multi-lateral agencies, have produced extensive analyses and recommendations, but ultimate responsibility of implementation rests with domestic institutions. The core problem lies not in the absence of information and recommendations , but in weak implementation, limited inter-agency cooperation, and persistent administrative inaction.
NGOs: Critical Actors with Structural Limits
Another critical dimension of Sri Lanka’s disaster-management landscape is the prominent role played by non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and, to a lesser extent, private-sector institutions across almost every phase of the disaster-management cycle. Their contribution is especially visible at the community level, where state reach is often limited. It is, however, important to distinguish between spontaneous voluntary community action and the more structured, project-driven modes of operation, typical of NGOs. This distinction does not diminish the importance of NGOs; rather, it helps clarify both their strengths and their limitations within a national disaster-management framework.
NGO engagement is particularly valuable in Community-Based Disaster Risk Management (CBDRM), where sustained local participation is essential. Through CBDRM initiatives, NGOs help Disaster-Risk Communities identify, analyse, and monitor risks, develop locally appropriate mitigation strategies, and strengthen coping capacities. Many international humanitarian organisations coordinate their work through the UN Humanitarian Country Team, while several local initiatives demonstrate the transformative potential of community-centred action. The Community Tsunami Early-Warning Centre (CTEC) in Peraliya, established with the support of two foreign donors and a Sri Lankan medical doctor, is a notable example. Equipped with round-the-clock internet-linked computers receiving real-time alerts from the US Geological Survey, CTEC has built a network of 30 focal points across the Galle District, each comprising 10 village representatives—illustrating how informed communities can play a frontline role in risk mitigation.
The Sarvodaya Community Disaster Risk Management Centre in Moratuwa further underscores the constructive role NGOs can play. Sarvodaya has worked to establish disaster-management committees linked with government district-level officers, strengthening coordination between communities and the state. In partnership with LIRNEasia, it has also developed early-warning systems designed to deliver alerts directly to households. With more than 50,000 community-based organisations, Sri Lanka possesses a potentially powerful grassroots network capable of making a decisive impact on disaster preparedness, response, and recovery. These organisations have been tasked with identifying vulnerable groups within their communities and ensuring their protection during emergencies—a role they performed actively in the aftermath of the 2004 Tsunami.
Yet, despite this potential, Sri Lankan NGOs, as a sector, suffer from persistent structural weaknesses. Many remain heavily dependent on international donor funding and tend to become inactive once external financing diminishes. Over time, this has led to cycles of intense activity during high-profile disasters, followed by organisational stagnation and decline. Unless NGO engagement is better integrated into long-term national planning, supported by stronger domestic institutional linkages and sustainable funding mechanisms, their contribution will remain episodic rather than transformative.
Early Warning Systems: From Forecasting to Community Action
The recent experience of Cyclone Ditwah has once again underscored the critical importance of effective early warning systems in mitigating the impact of natural disasters. Sri Lanka’s vulnerability to such events was starkly evident during the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami. The first tsunami waves hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka at approximately 6.40 a.m. on 26th December, about one hour and forty minutes after the earthquake. A secondary wave struck approximately 20 minutes later. The western coastal area was hit by the tsunami waves much later. The tsunami hit the southern coastal city of Hambantota at about 9.10 a.m. and Peraliya on the south-western coast, where the train tragedy took place, at 10.10 a.m., three and a half hours after the first wave, the tsunami hit the eastern coast of Sri Lanka. If an emergency disaster early-warning communication system were in place, at least a part of the human disaster on the Western coast could have been avoided. More than two decades later, Ditwah revealed that preparedness remains inadequate, and simply issuing statements from government agencies is insufficient. Early warnings must be actively communicated to communities, accompanied by clear action plans implemented by relevant authorities, to ensure people are informed, prepared, and able to respond effectively to impending disasters.
A landslide
Cultural and Ethnic Sensitivity in Disaster Response
One of the most important lessons highlighted by Cyclone Ditwah is the critical need for inclusivity and sensitivity in a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society like Sri Lanka. Emerging from the ashes of a devastating ethnic conflict, the country must ensure that national unity and ethnic harmony remain central to every policy and action, especially during crises. Ditwah revealed that some state institutions are not yet fully equipped to operate effectively in a multi-ethnic, multi-linguistic environment. Crucial notices and statements were, at times, released solely in Sinhala, in violation of the language policy enshrined in the Constitution. While practical administrative challenges may exist, it is the responsibility of political leadership to ensure that these requirements are addressed proactively. When vital information fails to reach communities in their own languages during emergencies, those communities would experience alienation and discrimination, with potentially grave consequences. In a multi-ethnic, post-conflict society, sensitivity to ethno-political dynamics is not optional—it is imperative across all phases of disaster management: preparedness, emergency response, and post-disaster recovery.
The real challenge begins now, and Sri Lanka cannot afford complacency. Resettling displaced and vulnerable communities is a formidable task that demands more than community goodwill—government institutions must bear the brunt of these responsibilities. Piles of spoiled food and debris left unattended in cities can quickly create serious public health hazards, underscoring the need for swift and organised action. With the North-Eastern Monsoon approaching, the country must be prepared for any eventuality.
Foreign Humanitarian Assistance and Its Geopolitical Dimensions
Sri Lanka did not stand alone in the wake of Ditwah. The country received substantial international assistance—not only in emergency humanitarian relief, but also in expertise, equipment, and resources for recovery and reconstruction. This support reflects the goodwill Sri Lanka continues to command globally, while also underscoring the need for credible and efficient domestic systems capable of coordinating effectively with foreign partners. At the same time, emergency relief is never geopolitically neutral. Sri Lanka must therefore approach foreign disaster assistance with a clear understanding of its national interests—without retreating into a besieged mentality. Instead, the challenge is to manage geopolitical competition to our advantage through an approach of omni-enmeshment: engaging all major powers simultaneously through dense networks of cooperation, institutions, and partnerships, creating mutual stakes and reducing the likelihood of strategic pressure or conflict.
Rethinking Development Strategies under Climate Stress
Beyond immediate relief, Cyclone Ditwah forces us to rethink the development model we are pursuing. Decades of deforestation and unplanned urban expansion have amplified the country’s vulnerability: between 1990 and 2010, Sri Lanka lost an average of 24,500 hectares of forest per year, totaling nearly 21 percent of its forest cover (Sri Lanka Forest Information and Data, The Rainforest S.). Forests once absorbed and regulated rainwater, but their loss has accelerated floods, triggered landslides, and intensified droughts, while impervious urban surfaces exacerbate flash flooding. The country is now paying the price for these environmental and planning failures, making comprehensive, forward-looking strategies a matter of urgent necessity.
Lessons from Ditwah and the Path Forward
Cyclone Ditwah is more than a weather event—it is a wake-up call that Sri Lanka must strengthen its resilience against future disasters. Fragmented responsibility, weak inter-agency coordination, and inconsistent communication are vulnerabilities that put lives and livelihoods at risk. We are compelled to face the challenges posed by extreme weather events repeatedly in the future. Learning and applying the lessons of Cyclone Ditwah is crucial for political leaders, state institutions, NGOs, and communities alike. Only by building a culture of preparedness, accountability, and coordination can the nation shift crisis response from reactive improvisation to proactive, life-saving action.
Prof. Gamini Kerawella can be accessed through keerawellag@gmail.com
by Prof. Gamini Keerawella
The Malimawa government has been in power only for about one year. So, we cannot say that they are not competent or able to develop the country, or that they are corrupt or less corrupt compared to the Yahapalanaya or the Rajapaksa Regimes whose records within their initial years were “not dissimilar”.
The Yahapalanaya Govt., and the Rajapakasa government in their initial years (and in fact throughout) had to face various natural and other disasters.
In 2005 Rajapaksas were still dealing with the December 2004 Tsunami, and the onslaught of the LTTE, attempted assassinations of Fonseka and Gota, followed by the Mavil Aru sluice gate closure and the launching of the Eelam war IV. Key natural disasters during their period included the following.
2006 Floods: Sri Lanka experienced floods during both the first inter-monsoon season and the second inter-monsoon season.
2008 Floods: More flood events were recorded, particularly in November, affecting thousands of people.
2010 Floods: Heavy monsoon rains in May caused flash floods, high winds, and landslides across 13 districts.
January 2011 Floods: This was a major event where heavy monsoon rains affected an estimated 1.8 million people and destroyed vast amounts of agricultural land, including rice fields. President Rajapaksa could not visit the affected areas due to the severity of the floods.
2012 Drought and Floods: A drought starting in late 2011 and lasting through 2012 dried water reservoirs and safe drinking water availability for around 1.8 million people. This was followed by floods.
2013 and 2014 Landslides and Floods: These years saw more heavy rainfall, floods and landslides killing dozens of people due to early-warning system failures. A major landslide occurred in October 2014 in Meeriyabedda. This was also a period when Ven. Ratana, Dr. Channa Jayasumana and others were becoming very active in undermining the agricultural sector with their hair-brained ideas.
The government established the Disaster Management Act of 2005, No. 13. It helped to better prepare for such events, although implementation faced challenges.
When Yahapanaya came to power, the tropical Storm Roanu brought heavy monsoon rains and caused the worst flooding in Sri Lanka in 25 years. The disasters resulted in over 100 deaths, left many missing, affected nearly half a million people, and damaged over 58,000 houses. The economic damage was substantial, particularly to agriculture and infrastructure. Then the
A second major disaster occurred in May 2017, worsened by the precursor to Cyclone Mora. This disaster affected 15 districts, killed over 200 people, and displaced hundreds of thousands.
Today, the country is in dire straits after the Ditwah cyclone. Curiously enough, the Malimawa faced with Ditwah did not implement the Disaster management mechanism (2005, Act.13) set up in 2005.
Today the Malimawa hands are tied down by the IMF agreements that they have been forced to accept (and here there was no other option as no country came forward to provide an over-arching loan). So, Sri Lanka is like a log caught by the forces of international trade and carried along by the current, with no independent strength of its own (because of JRJ’s open economy which boosted the wealth, but at the same time squashed the rise of local industries).
A significant worry is that the Malimawa government has not launched or even proposed any long-term development projects of any consequence, except for mere cursory statements at the manifesto level. This is the worrying thing that Sri Lankans need to look at.
However, it could be argued that the current government SHOULD be encouraged to stay in power (instead of pulling it down) because elections are very costly, disruptive, and even if a new government comes in, they still have to follow the IMF and World-Bank dictated policies that hit Sri Lanka after the declaration of bankruptcy during Gotabhaya’s time.
It could also be argued that if the Malimaawa continues to govern, then it will mess things up even more. If that be so, it may ensure their doom in the next round of elections.
A new government at any time will take another year or even more to learn the ropes, and one may ask if the country could afford that. Public opinion seems to hold that the old leaders (of the UNP, SLFP, or Pohottuwa) are now like spent tea, rotten, useless, and cannot and should not be brought back, even though the strong corruption charges leveled at them by the Malimawa leaders during the election have not led to court cases. The leaders in waiting, like Sajith or Namal, are not yet seen to be inspiring the public in any significant way.
People who can influence the government should try to help it launch some long-term projects that could fall into place as the IMF-controlled period wanes. This is true, irrespective of which government is in power, given the current circumstances facing Sri Lanka.
That is, there are things that the private sector alone cannot do, that only a government can do.
For instance, (i) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in energy by developing alternative energies, biofuels etc. (ii) Planning to achieve self-sufficiency in basic food stuffs, establishing an infrastructure for their distribution and sale. (iii) Exploitation of critical minerals available in the country but requiring significant capital investments and overcoming complex environmental issues. (iv) Re-development of infrastructure (power grid, roads, high-speed railways instead of the old snail rails of the British era), taking account of the fact that the country must be ready for future weather disasters of much higher magnitude than Ditwah. This last need is presumably being considered by the government right now, and one may say it will take months to do new land surveys of the damage and create new plans. Finding the money may take longer. However, the plans must come before the funding.
Is the Malimava government capable of rising to the occasion, or has it lost the compass and is drifting in the doldrums, is a question that one cannot easily answer. Unfortunately, the general levels of optimism and enthusiasm of the public towards the government seem to have decreased significantly and the government must wake up to the reality.
By Chandre Dharmawardana
chandre.dharma@yahoo.ca
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