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A tribute to vajira

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By Uditha Devapriya

The female dancer’s form figures prominently in Sinhalese art and sculpture. Among the ruins of the Lankatilake Viharaya in Polonnaruwa is a series of carvings of dwarves, beasts, and performers. They surround a decapitated image of a standing Buddha, secular figures dotting a sacred space. Similar figures of dancing women adorn the entrance at the Varaka Valandu Viharaya in Ridigama, adjoining the Ridi Vihare. Offering a contrast with carvings of men sporting swords and spears, they entrance the eye immediately.

A motif of medieval Sinhalese art, these were influenced by hordes of dancers that adorned the walls of South Indian temples. They attest to the role that Sinhala society gave women, a role that diminished with time, so much so that by the 20th century, Sinhalese women had been banned from wearing the ves thattuwa. Held back for long, many of these women now began to rebel. They would soon pave the way for the transformation of an art.

In January 2020 the government of India chose to award the Padma Shri to two Sri Lankan women. This was done in recognition not just of their contribution to their fields, but also their efforts at strengthening ties between the two countries. A few weeks ago, in the midst of a raging pandemic, these awards were finally conferred on their recipients.

One of them, Professor Indra Dissanayake, had passed away in 2019. Her daughter received the honour in her name in India. The other, Vajira Chitrasena, remains very much alive, and as active. She received her award at a ceremony at the Indian High Commission in Colombo. Modest as it may have been, the conferment seals her place in the country, situating her in its cultural landscape as one of our finest exponents of dance.

Vajira Chitrasena was far from the first woman to take up traditional dance in Sri Lanka. But she was the first to turn it into a full time, lifelong profession, absorbing the wellsprings of its past, transcending gender and class barriers, and taking it to the young. Dancing did not really come to her; it was the other way around. Immersing herself in the art, she entered it at a time when the medium had been, and was being, transformed the world over: by 1921, the year her husband was born, Isadora Duncan and Ruth St Denis had pioneered and laid the foundation for the modernisation of the medium. Their project would be continued by Martha Graham, for whom Vajira would perform decades later.

In Sri Lanka traditional dance had long turned away from its ritualistic past, moving into the stage and later the school and the university. Standing in the midst of these developments, Vajira Chitrasena found herself questioning and reshaping tradition. It was a role for which history had ordained her, a role she threw herself into only too willingly.

In dance as in other art forms, the balance between tradition and modernity is hard, if not impossible, to maintain. Associated initially with an agrarian society, traditional dance in Sri Lanka evolved into an object of secular performance. Under colonial rule, the patronage of officials, indeed even of governors themselves, helped free it from the stranglehold of the past, giving it a new lease of life that would later enable what Susan Reed in her account of dance in Sri Lanka calls the bureaucratisation of the arts. This is a phenomenon that Sarath Amunugama explores in his work on the kohomba kankariya as well.

Yet this did not entail a complete break from the past: then as now, in Sri Lanka as in India, dancing calls for the revival of conventions: the namaskaraya, the adherence to Buddhist tenets, and the contemplation of mystical beauty. It was in such a twilight world that Vajira Chitrasena and her colleagues found themselves in. Faced with the task of salvaging a dying art, they breathed new life to it by learning it, preserving it, and reforming it.

Though neither Vajira nor her husband belonged to the colonial elite, it was the colonial elite who began approaching traditional art forms with a zest and vigour that determined their trajectory after independence. Bringing together patrons, teachers, students, and scholars of dance, the elite forged friendships with tutors and performers, often becoming their students and sometimes becoming teachers themselves.

Newton Gunasinghe has observed how British officials found it expedient to patronise feudal elites, after a series of rebellions that threatened to bring down the colonial order. Yet even before this, such officials had patronised cultural practices that had once been the preserve of those elites. It was through this tenuous relationship between colonialism and cultural revival that Westernised low country elites moved away from conventional careers, like law and medicine, into the arduous task of reviving the past.

At first running into opposition from their paterfamilias, the scions of the elite eventually found their calling. “[I]n spite of their disappointment at my smashing their hopes of a brilliant legal and political career,” Charles Jacob Peiris, later to be known as Devar Surya Sena, wrote in his recollection of his parents’ reaction to a concert he had organised at the Royal College Hall in 1929, “they were proud of me that night.”

If the sons had to incur the wrath of their fathers, the daughters had to pay the bigger price. Yet, as with the sons, the daughters too possessed an agency that emboldened them to not just dance, but participate in rituals that had been restricted to males.

Both Miriam Pieris and Chandralekha Perera displeased traditional society when they donned the ves thattuwa, the sacred headdress that had for centuries been reserved for men. But for every critic, there were those who welcomed such developments, considering them essential to the flowering of the arts; none less than Martin Wickramasinghe, to give one example, viewed Chandralekha’s act positively, and commended her.

These developments sparked off a pivotal cultural renaissance across the country. Although up country women remain debarred from those developments, there is no doubt that the shattering of taboos in the low country helped keep the art of the dance alive, for tutors, students, and scholars. As Mirak Raheem has written in a piece to Groundviews, we are yet to appreciate the role female dancers of the early 20th century played in all this.

Vajira Chitrasena’s contribution went beyond that of the daughters of the colonial elite who dared to dance. While it would be wrong to consider their interest as a passing fad, a quirk, these women did not turn dance into a lifelong profession. Vajira did not just commit herself to the medium in a way they had not, she made it her goal to teach and reinterpret it, in line with methods and practices she developed for the Chitrasena Kala Ayathanaya.

As Mirak Raheem has pointed out in his tribute to her, she drew from her limited exposure to dance forms like classical ballet to design a curriculum that broke down the medium to “a series of exercises… that could be used to train dancers.” In doing so, she conceived some highly original works, including a set of children’s ballets, or lama mudra natya, a genre she pioneered in 1952 with Kumudini. Along the way she crisscrossed several roles, from dancer to choreographer to tutor, becoming more than just a performer.

As the head of the Chitrasena Dance Company, Vajira enjoys a reputation that history has not accorded to most other women of her standing. Perhaps her greatest contribution in this regard has been her ability to adapt masculine forms of dance to feminine sequences. She has been able to do this without radically altering their essence; that has arguably been felt the most in the realm of Kandyan dance, which caters to masculine (“tandava“) rather than feminine (“lasya“) moods. The lasya has been described by Marianne Nürnberger as a feminine form of up country dance. It was in productions like Nala Damayanthi that Vajira mastered this form; it epitomised a radical transformation of the art.

Sudesh Mantillake in an essay on the subject (“Masculinity in Kandyan Dance”) suggests that by treating them as impure, traditional artistes kept women away from udarata natum. That is why Algama Kiriganitha, who taught Chandralekha, taught her very little, since she was a woman. This is not to say that the gurunannses kept their knowledge back from those who came to learn from them, only that they taught them under strictures and conditions which revealed their reluctance to impart their knowledge to females.

That Vajira Chitrasena made her mark in these fields despite all obstructions is a tribute to her mettle and perseverance. Yet would we, as Mirak Raheem suggests in his very excellent essay, be doing her a disservice by just valorising her? Shouldn’t the object of a tribute be, not merely to praise her for transcending gender barriers, but more importantly to examine how she transcended them, and how difficult she found it to transcend them? We eulogise our women for breaking through the glass ceiling, without questioning how high that ceiling was in the first place. A more sober evaluation of Vajira Chitrasena would ask that question. But such an evaluation is yet to come out. One can only hope that it will, soon.

The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com



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India’s colonial past revealed through 200 masterful paintings

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Patna's Sewak Ram painted this watercolour of prayers at a Muharram festival, 1820 [BBC]

Founded in 1600 as a trading enterprise, the English East India company gradually transformed into a colonial power.

By the late 18th Century, as it tightened its grip on India, company officials began commissioning Indian artists – many formerly employed by the Mughals – to create striking visual records of the land they were now ruling.

A Treasury of Life: Indian Company Paintings, c. 1790 to 1835, an ongoing show in the Indian capital put together by Delhi Art Gallery (DAG), features over 200 works that once lay on the margins of mainstream art history. It is India’s largest exhibition of company paintings, highlighting their rich diversity and the skill of Indian artists.

Painted by largely unnamed artists, these paintings covered a wide range of subjects, but mainly fall into three categories: natural history, like botanical studies; architecture, including monuments and scenic views of towns and landscapes; and Indian manners and customs.

“The focus on these three subject areas reflects European engagements with their Indian environment in an attempt to come to terms with all that was unfamiliar to Western eyes,” says Giles Tillotson of DAG, who curated the show.

“Europeans living in India were delighted to encounter flora and fauna that were new to them, and ancient buildings in exotic styles. They met – or at least observed – multitudes of people whose dress and habits were strange but – as they began to discern – were linked to stream of religious belief and social practice.”

DAG A View of the Dargah of Sheikh Salim Chishti, Fatehpur Sikri - Watercolour on paper, c.1815 ̶25.
Sita Ram painted the dargah of Sheikh Salim Chishti, Fatehpur Sikri, 1815-25 [BBC]

Beyond natural history, India’s architectural heritage captivated European visitors.

Before photography, paintings were the best way to document travels, and iconic Mughal monuments became prime subjects. Patrons soon turned to skilled local artists.

Beyond the Taj Mahal, popular subjects included Agra Fort, Jama Masjid, Buland Darwaza, Sheikh Salim Chishti’s tomb at Fatehpur Sikri (above), and Delhi’s Qutub Minar and Humayun’s Tomb.

The once-obscure and long-anonymous Indian artist Sita Ram, who painted the tomb, was one of them.

From June 1814 to early October 1815, Sita Ram travelled extensively with Francis Rawdon, also known as the Marquess of Hastings, who had been appointed as the governor general in India in 1813 and held the position for a decade. (He is not to be confused with Warren Hastings, who served as India’s first governor general much earlier.)

DAG The image shows paintings from the collection of botanical watercolours, likely from Murshidabad in West Bengal.
The largest group in this collection is a set of botanical watercolours, likely from Murshidabad in West Bengal [BBC]

The largest group in this collection is a set of botanical watercolours, likely from Murshidabad or Maidapur (in present-day West Bengal).

While Murshidabad was the Nawab of Bengal’s capital, the East India Company operated there. In the late 18th century, nearby Maidapur briefly served as a British base before Calcutta’s (now Kolkata) rise eclipsed it.

Originally part of the Louisa Parlby Album – named after the British woman who compiled it while her husband, Colonel James Parlby, served in Bengal – the works likely date to the late 18th Century, before Louisa’s return to Britain in 1801.

“The plants represented in the paintings are likely quite illustrative of what could be found growing in both the well-appointed gardens as well as the more marginal spaces of common greens, waysides and fields in the Murshidabad area during the late eighteenth century,” writes Nicolas Roth of Harvard University.

“These are familiar plants, domestic and domesticated, which helped constitute local life worlds and systems of meaning, even as European patrons may have seen them mainly as exotica to be collected.”

DAG The picture shows a water colour of an elaborate temple ritual in southern India from 1800, part of the collection.
A 1800 water colour of an elaborate temple ritual in southern India [BBC]

Another painting from the collection is of a temple procession showing a Shiva statue on an ornate platform carried by men, flanked by Brahmins and trumpeters.

At the front, dancers with sticks perform under a temporary gateway, while holy water is poured on them from above.

Labeled Ouricaty Tirounal, it depicts a ritual from Thirunallar temple in Karaikal in southern India, capturing a rare moment from a 200-year-old tradition.

DAG The picture is of a Veena player with his Wife and a Drummer - Gouache and gold pigment on paper, c.1800.
Veena player with his wife and drummer by a Tanjore artist, 1800 [BBC]
DAG The picture depicts a female dancer or acrobat, with a male drummer on opaque watercolour on paper, c. 1822.
A female dancer or acrobat, with a male drummer, c.1882 [BBC]

By the late 18th Century, company paintings had become true collaborations between European patrons and Indian artists.

Art historian Mildred Archer called them a “fascinating record of Indian social life,” blending the fine detail of Mughal miniatures with European realism and perspective.

Regional styles added richness – Tanjore artists, for example, depicted people of various castes, shown with tools of their trade. These albums captured a range of professions – nautch girls, judges, sepoys, toddy tappers, and snake charmers.

“They catered to British curiosity while satisfying European audience’s fascination with the ‘exoticism’ of Indian life,” says Kanupriya Sharma of DAG.

DAG The picture shows ten men in hats and loincloths rowing through surf, 1800.
Ten men in hats and loincloths rowing through surf, 1800 [BBC]

Most studies of company painting focus on British patronage, but in south India, the French were commissioning Indian artists as early as 1727.

A striking example is a set of 48 paintings from Pondicherry – uniform in size and style – showing the kind of work French collectors sought by 1800.

One painting (above) shows 10 men in hats and loincloths rowing through surf. A French caption calls them nageurs (swimmers) and the boat a chilingue.

Among the standout images are two vivid scenes by an artist known as B, depicting boatmen navigating the rough Coromandel coast in stitched-plank rowboats.

With no safe harbours near Madras or Pondicherry, these skilled oarsmen were vital to European trade, ferrying goods and people through dangerous surf between anchored ships and the shore.

DAG The picture from an unidentified artist shows a sloth and a jackal on watercolour and ink on paper, 1821.
Unidentified artist, A Sloth and a Jackal, watercolour and ink on paper, 1821 [BBC]

Company paintings often featured natural history studies, portraying birds, animals, and plants – especially from private menageries.

As seen in the DAG show, these subjects are typically shown life-size against plain white backgrounds, with minimal surroundings – just the occasional patch of grass. The focus remains firmly on the species itself.

Ashish Anand, CEO of DAG says the the latest show proposes company paintings as the “starting point of Indian modernism”.

Anand says this “was the moment when Indian artists who had trained in courtly ateliers first moved outside the court (and the temple) to work for new patrons”.

“The agendas of those patrons were not tied up with courtly or religious concerns; they were founded on scientific enquiry and observation,” he says.

“Never mind that the patrons were foreigners. What should strike us now is how Indian artists responded to their demands, creating entirely new templates of Indian art.”

[BBC]

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The NPP Government and Multi-Party Democracy

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Questions continue to be speculated about the true intentions of the JVP in orchestrating the NPP government – whether the JVP is still committed to its old Marxist-Leninist policies and whether it may or may not implement them through its NPP front. Further, will the JVP/NPP allow Sri Lanka’s multi-party democracy to continue or resort to one party governance like in countries where a Communist Party is in power. The fact that local government elections were held under an NPP government after a seven year hiatus is conveniently forgotten. That the LG elections had previously been postponed and cancelled by non-Marxist governments is now never mentioned.

And then the scaremongering – if the NPP government were to fail and suffer defeat at the next election, will it pave the way for the return of the Rajapaksas, yet again, but this time under a new generation led by the supposedly hugely talented Namal Rajapaksa? There were pre-election predictions that Namal Rajapaksa and the rump that is left of the SLPP might overtake Sajith Premadasa’s SJB in the LG elections. That did not happen.

The Rajapaksa scion is still safely in third place by quite a distance after the SJB and its lackluster leader, the slightly older but still the only young Premadasa in Sri Lankan politics. For company, they have a really old man, i.e., Ranil Wickremesinghe, who is capable of many things, but gracefully retiring is not one of them. At least, and to his credit, he lives in his own house and takes no residential perk at government expense unlike all the other ex-presidential freeloaders.

Philistine Preoccupations

It is not unfair to say that most of their commentaries are nothing but philistine preoccupations passing for serious politics. The word ‘philistine’ was a favourite term of Engels (the second fiddle to Marx’s first violin) and it is appropriate now since Marxism is at the tip of the tongue of everyone who wants to take a shot at the NPP government. The term is also apt to fling at the right wing populists, who are now becoming less popular in their western backyards thanks to their greatest specimen – Donald J. Trump

And what a specimen Trump is constantly devolving into – the latest stage being his disgusting White House encounter last Wednesday with South African President Cyril Ramaphosa. Less said of it is better for your bile and if you saw it on television you would have instantly noticed the difference between a contemptible mammon out of Florida and a consummate statesman from Soweto.

As epithets are flung around to capture the antics of Trump, the latest comes from the usually measured Paul Krugman, distinguished American economist who was awarded the 2008 Nobel Prize for his work on “trade patterns and location of economic activity.” Krugman knows something about tariffs and economics, and the other day he called Trump and his sidekicks “sadistic zombies”.

Many among the Sri Lankan opposition politicians might be considered zombies, but none of them could be thought of as being sadistic. To close this loop on Trump and his dystopic global presence, one needs to acknowledge his primeval effectiveness in pushing people around to get his way. More so with foreign leaders than his opponents at home. But he uses this effectiveness to feed his ego and enrich his family and not at all to make a difference in the world’s trouble spots where the American government has more sway than anyone else.

This was quite evident on Trump’s recent visit to the Arab world that was all about glitter and one-way gifts including a flying palace, and nothing at all for American foreign policy, let alone for the wretched of the earth in Gaza or the slow burning of Ukraine. One noticeable fact of the visit was Trump’s deliberate snubbing of Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu. Not only did Trump go to Riyad and Doha bypassing Jerusalem but he also sent a message to Netanyahu that he would deal directly with Netanyahu’s enemies including Hamas, Iran and the Houthis. To what great outcome, no one knows. At the same time, Trump’s apparent sidelining of Netanyahu together with the joint condemnation of Netanyahu’s latest Gaza plans by Britain, France and Canada, seemed to tighten the screws on Netanyahu and signaled a new opportunity for reining in Israel’s runaway leader and his notoriously right wing government.

All that came crashing down with the insane assassination, on Wednesday, of two young Israeli Embassy staffers in Washington by a lone gunman, 30 year old Chicago native Elias Rodriguez, shouting “Free, free, Palestine”. All that this politically deranged individual has achieved is to free Netanyahu to go ahead with his Gaza plans and to prolong the misery of the Palestinians who are under constant bombardment in Gaza.

Sri Lanka’s Durable Political System

Today’s Sri Lanka is fortunate to have finally come out of its own decades of political violence, and after several missed opportunities following the end of the war in 2009, the country finally has a government that for its all its inexperience in governing has shown consistent commitment to honesty, decency and transparency. Yet many commentators are rankled by the irony that a government whose political progenitor was a violent insurrectionist could now be a paragon of multi-party democracy.

Their constant allusion to Marxism is really a code for recalling the JVP’s violent past. Never mind that the past had come and gone 30 and 50 years ago. They conveniently ignore the possibility that the JVP could have and may actually have transformed itself from its pre-history to its current manifestation. Its current commitment to the parliamentary system and multi-party democracy is no less authentic than any of the other political parties. If at all, the JVP/NPP is more honest about it than every other party.

As well, those who agonize that the JVP might terminate Sri Lanka’s muti-party democracy and opt for some version of the political systems in countries such as Vietnam, China, Russia or even Cuba, fail to take into account the history and the currency of Sri Lanka’s political system that has proved to be quite durable, so much so that any political party that that tries to subvert or supplant it will do so at its own peril. And Sri Lanka’s political system, its history and currency are not comparable to what are prevalent in the four countries that I have mentioned.

The governing parties in these countries have been in power for as long as their polities have been existing, and they have no reason to think of changing their respective mode of government now or later. In contrast, the JVP/NPP government has come to power through the electoral process, and it has no incentive to think of changing that process now or later. Sri Lanka’s political system has not been without ailments, and the most debilitating of them has been the presidential system. And the JVP/NPP is the only political organization in the country that is fervently committed to curing Sri Lanka of that enervating illness. Whether it will keep its promise and succeed in changing the executive presidency is a different matter. It is the only party that is committed to changing the presidency, whereas all the others have tried to use it to serve their own ends.

Indian Comparisons

What is more comparable for Sri Lanka is the experience of the Indian states of Kerala and West Bengal where the Indian Communists have won power through the electoral process on many occasions and acquitted themselves very well in government. In modern Kerala’s first state election in 1957, EMS Namboodiripad led the then undivided Communist Party of India (CPI) to electoral victory and a new government. That was India’s first elected Communist Government, and the world’s second – after the first elected Communist government (1945-1957) in San Marino, the tiny commune of a country in the Italian peninsula.

But the government was dismissed in 1959 by the Central Government at the insistence of a young Indira Gandhi using her influence as the President of the Congress Party, even sidelining her father and then Prime Minister Nehru. But Communists have become a governing force in Kerala forming several governments over the years led by the CPM (the Communist Party of India – Marxist), the larger of the two factions that emerged after the Party’s ideological split in 1964. The current government in Kerala is the government of the Left Democratic Front that is led by the CPM. The LDF has been in power since 2016 – winning two consecutive elections, a feat not achieved in 40 years.

In West Bengal, the CPM was in power continuously for 34 years from 1977 to 2011. Jyoti Basu of national prominence was Chief Minister from 1977 to 2000 and is recognized as the longest serving Chief Minister in India. In 1996, he was offered the chance to become India’s Prime Minister as head of a United Front alliance of non-Congress and non-BJP parties. But the great Bengali declined the offer in deference to his Party Polit Bureau’s lamebrained doctrinaire decision barring him from becoming Prime Minister in a coalition government. Unlike in Kerala, the CPM has not been able to alternate in government after its defeat in 2011. The Party was decimated in the 2021 national and State elections in West Bengal by Trinamool Congress a state-level party like Tamil Nadu’s DMK.

What the JVP/NPP has achieved in Sri Lanka is unique to Sri Lanka and, comparable to the Indian situations, the NPP’s electoral success poses no threat to the political system in Sri Lanka. The NPP government has completed only six months in office, but its critics are insistent on seeing results. They will not bother to look at what the present government’s predecessors respectively did in the first six months after elections in 2010, 2015 and 2019. At the same time, while is still too early for substantial results, it is getting late enough to get by without showing some work in progress, let alone some tangible achievements. It is about time.

by Rajan Philips

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Productive Diplomacy

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Book review

I was pleasantly surprised to receive recently, from Shashikala Premawardhane, Sri Lanka High Commissioner in Singapore at the time, a volume that commemorated half a century of diplomatic ties between the two countries. Entitled Singapore and Sri Lanka at 50: Perspectives from Sri Lanka, it had been published in 2023. The High Commissioner had handed over the editing of the book to two Sri Lankans and a Singaporean, who had chosen a range of topics to cover.

I was struck by the fact that I knew just four of the contributors, with a nodding acquaintance with two Foreign Service members who had contributed. I think this was because the work had been entrusted to younger writers and scholars, with particular interest in the fields they covered. So, it was just three of the economists, and reliable Prof Amal Jayawardane whom I knew, the latter from our time together on the Board of the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies.

It surprised me that we had only established diplomatic relations 50 years ago, but as the then Foreign Secretary put it, the relationship went back for well over a century before that, practically to the time when Singapore was established by Sir Stamford Raffles. The first section of the book records the many emigrants from here, who established themselves in business and professions, with several senior Singaporean politicians having Sri Lankan roots. There is much too about the Amarasuriya family which married into B.P. de Silva’s, who had set up the iconic B P de Silva jewellery firm, and also about doctors and lawyers.

I did however miss mention of the first Supreme Court judge from Sri Lanka, Justice Kulasekeram, who had worked for many years in Colombo and was then put on the Supreme Court when he migrated to Singapore by Chief Justice Sir Alan Rose. Rose, it may be remembered, had been Attorney General here and then Chief Justice, but was forced to leave by Sir John Kotelawala for his role in promoting Dudley Senanayake as Prime Minister when D S died suddenly.

But this section, on Historical and Social Relations, also has an incisive article by one of our brighter young diplomats, Madhuka Wickramaarachchi, about Singapore’s Language Policy, which has contributed so effectively to nation building whereas our selectivity has been so destructive of national unity. Without preaching, Madhuka makes clear how much we can learn, and that it is not too late to change our focus.

The second section, about Economic and Investment relations, begins with an article that is essentially about Prima. Following a long relationship with this country after it was established in Singapore in 1961, Prima was an early example of the Foreign Direct Investment the Jayewardene government encouraged from 1977. Having come in then, it has expanded over the years and now provides much employment in this country.

The next two chapters in this section are primarily about the new opportunities opened up by the relatively recent Sri Lanka Singapore Free Trade Agreement, and there is much detail about what has happened and what could happen, though I cannot comment on all this since it is not an area I know much about.

But I should note that I would have welcomed more attention to the work of a firm that came in nearly half a century back, the Overseas Realty Group which built the World Trade Centre, and then started work on Havelock City and persisted, despite the various problems this country faced. I believe they are a byword for integrity, which perhaps explains why this country has not taken more advantage of their predilection for investment here.

The third section, on Perspectives on Security and Counter Terrorism, is also something I know little about, though I found the account of the cooperation in this field of the two countries interesting, and also how information has been shared with regard to combating terrorism, with Singapore having links with other countries that enables it to be a helpful resource for less sophisticated countries like ours.

And the last chapter in this section highlights something we need to take seriously, the need for better coordination with regard to what is described as security architecture, and not only with regard to cyber security which is the focus of this piece. The sad story of what happened in 2018, before the Easter bombings, makes clear how destructive our failure to coordinate – and not only with regard to security – can be.

The next section of Diplomacy and Multilateralism lays out clearly the opportunities we missed when we might have joined ASEAN when it was set up. This was initially because of Dudley Senanayake’s worries about what seemed its pro-American tilt. Later, when Ranasinghe Premadasa was keen to renew dialogue, we were told to go away, but I suspect this was in part because J R Jayewardene and the foreign policy dispensation was not too keen on the sort of innovations Premadasa advocated.

Interestingly, after Amal Jayawardane’s piece on the need for closer cooperation with ASEAN, there is a fascinating article about cooperation during the pandemic, which suggests we could take this dimension further. The same goes for the area explored in the last section, on Environment and Climate Change. The first article there draws attention to the need to look at Climate Change in terms of a National Security Issue, and suggests areas of common concern to both our island states.

And fascinating was the last article in the book on Wetland Conservation, which draws attention to an area in which we can easily do more work, and cooperate with Singapore on productive initiatives. In this context I am saddened that a project which I am told Ruwan Wijewardene had supported when in the President’s Office to renew mangrove cover has now floundered, because no one in the Prime Minister’s Office, where the proposal now rests, has the energy or the will to take it further.

I don’t suppose anyone in the Prime Minister’s office has read this admirable book, but it is a pity that those in charge of policy are not encouraged to do so, both there and in the President’s office, and to look at the many ideas for future development that the book suggests.

Singapore and Sri Lanka at 50: Perspectives from Sri Lanka

an anthology reviewed by Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha

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