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Adolescent guilt at a Catholic school

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St Anthony's College at Wattala

by Jayantha Perera

I joined St Anthony’s College at Wattala when I was seven years-old. It was a private college run by the La Salle Christian Brothers. The cover page of my ‘Report Card’ said that the College leads young boys in the Christian faith, helping them to become god-fearing, diligent, honest, and good citizens.

Each school day started with a standard set of prayers. A 90-minute catechism class followed morning prayers. After that, students learned other subjects. At the beginning of each study period, students got up, acknowledged that they were in God’s presence, and prayed for his help. Each study period ended with a prayer of gratitude. A day at the College ended at 3.15pm with another standard prayer, which took about 10 minutes.

The catechism class had two parts. Part one was learning the catechism from the textbook and analyzing the prescribed gospel. Part two was engaging in pious activities as a Christian citizen. On Monday morning, class teachers distributed a printed sheet called Sukruta Kriya Warthawa (the Record of Good Deeds) among students. Each student wrote the good deeds he had accomplished daily during the week. Such acts included helping parents with household chores, assisting younger brothers and sisters with homework, and looking after the poor and disabled.

The Prefect of the class collected the completed form from each student and took them to the college chapel on Friday afternoon. He placed the bundle of good deeds reports by the statue of St Anthony. We believed St. Anthony would appreciate our good intentions and deeds and intervene on our behalf when we were in trouble at home or at College.

Every day, the class Prefect went around during the catechism session and collected small contributions from students to feed the poor and assist the vulnerable. The charity was known as St. Vincent de Paul Charity. We never knew what happened to the funds we reluctantly donated to feed the poor. But we believe the Director sent the money to the charity office in Mutwal to distribute among the urban poor and sick persons. Occasionally, the College sold us beautiful medals of various saints. Some were from Rome and blessed by the Pope. A good Catholic boy was supposed to wear at least one medal and the brown scapular necklace received at the Confirmation at 13. My scapular disintegrated in three months because of excessive sweating from playing cricket and volleyball.

When a boy met a teacher in a corridor or at the playground, he greeted the teacher by saying, “God bless you,” and the teacher reciprocated by saying the same. When the attendance register was marked, the class teacher announced each student’s name, and the student got up and said, “God be blessed.” If he delayed responding, the teacher would cane him at the end of the roll call. Every day, at least one student failed to respond promptly and invariably got caned.

Catholic values have tempered College discipline and the punishment system. The College rules stated that punishment allows a boy to repent for his sins (misdemeanours). Humility, repentance, and pain (after caning) are part and parcel of Catholic character formation. Caning was the primary method of punishment. The caned student was considered a reformed boy who had been called back to God’s loving fold. Caning was rampant, and it took two forms: public caning for significant misdemeanours such as physical assaults, damage to school property, or stealing. Brother Director or an assistant Brother executed public caning at the Monday morning assembly. Class teachers caned boys for their recklessness, laziness or for not doing homework. Some teachers enjoy caning, and others handed over the unpleasant task to the Director to execute.

In 1961, I was in grade seven and the class teacher was Brother Basil, a young, handsome man. He was reluctant to cane students. His method of punishment was to ask those who deserved punishment to kneel down in the corridor from where they could follow the class and copy notes from the blackboard. Between 2.30 and 3.00 pm, those in the corridor could see Brother Director coming after his post-lunch nap. When he saw a group of students in the corridor, he never asked what they had done. He took a long cane from his cloak, caned each fellow without asking them to get up, and went away without uttering a word.

The punished boys could then enter the class and occupy their seats. Brother Basil then continued the class as if nothing had happened. A friend of mine once showed his bruised buttocks after such caning to his mother. She was angry and upset to see her son in pain. When his father came home in the evening, his mother told him what had happened at the College. He said, “I am glad Brother Director has caned you. I will tell him to cane you more frequently so that he can make a good boy out of you!”

At nearby St Anne’s Convent, Mother Superior followed a guilt-generating punishment to deal with recalcitrant girls. She kept a small heart-shaped pillow in a red velvet cover on her table. She asked the girl who was sent to her office for punishment to pick a pin and prick the pillow, saying, “I reject Jesus” or “I want to hurt Jesus.” The girl invariably cried and refused to prick the heart of Jesus. In a triumphant tone, Mother Superior told the girl to behave in a manner that shows her love for Jesus. At the College, boys discussed this method of punishment and wished the Director had used it instead of caning!

Every Wednesday was the Benediction Day. A priest arrived from St. Anne’s Church to bless the students by exposing the Eucharistic in a beautiful chalice-like monstrance. Bells were rung, and the priest held the monstrance with a thick ornamented velvet cloth. The priest displayed it to all devotees several times before placing it on the altar. After the benediction, the priest chanted a long prayer invoking the blessings of God and various saints. One day, the priest began the prayers on his knees, saying, “Oh Lord My God,” and we were expected to say, “Let his name be blessed.” Before we responded, someone in a muffled voice in the congregation said, “Let him be alone.”

The priest said nothing but waited one hour before allowing the community to disperse. The following day, the Director caught the culprit. The Director gave him three options: leave the school, six cuts at the Monday assembly, or clean the chapel every day for three months after school. He selected the third option. The Director appointed the boy a School Prefect at the end of the punishment. The Director at the Monday assembly told boys that he had observed the boy closely over the past three months. The boy had accepted his sin, repented honestly, and devoted himself to undergoing the punishment with remorse and humility.

Every Friday was a confession day. A Jesuit priest with long grey hair and penetrating eyes was waiting to listen to our sins and pardon us. He was our spiritual advisor, too. The confessors organized themselves into one line in the church corridor. The group was expected to be quiet, think about their sins, and feel ashamed. Sometimes, girls from the convent also came for confession. Boys were happy to see girls at the church and whistled when they passed their line to form another line on the other side of the confession box. The presence of the priest and nuns restrained them from engaging with the girls.

Confessors, one at a time, walked about ten yards from the top of the line to reach the confession box where the priest waited. It was difficult to see the face of the priest because of the lattice that partially covered his face. The priest had the habit of scanning the face of the confessor through the lattice before listening to his or her sins. He listened diligently. At the end of the confession, he advised how to overcome weaknesses and prescribed a punishment to expiate sins.

Usually, the punishment was to kneel in the middle of the chapel for a few minutes. Once, I asked the priest why I should undergo a ‘punishment’ after being pardoned by him. He said it was like washing a dirty shirt with soap when the priest forgave a sinner. It still had a faint mark of the dirt the soap could not remove. When the shirt was immersed in Robin Bluewater, it returned to its original colour and freshness. He said confession played a similar role in our souls.

Once, I watched the priest coming out of the confession box to thrash a boy. I thought the boy had committed a mortal sin, which was unusual. But later, I learned that he had stolen bananas from the Brothers’ dining room. When I asked why he decided to confess, he said his conscience had troubled him. He also thought that the Brothers could cast a curse on him, which could harm him.

School prayers extended to our homes. Each student had to buy a Sinhala prayer book at a heavily subsidized price from the college book depot. I remember my Prayer Book. It was a square, thick book with beautiful illustrations of Christian events, such as the creation of the universe and the ascension of Jesus Christ to heaven. Children join their parents for the rosary and numerous other prayers every evening. The Director encouraged parents to complain to him if a child willfully avoided family prayer.

At home, my father often did not join evening prayers. He thought talking to his friends or sipping a glass of arrack was more enjoyable than participating in family prayer. But my mother and we four brothers prayed every day. She directed us to focus on our family and personal difficulties. We all finally pleaded with the Virgin Mary and Jesus to protect us from committing mortal sins.

When I reached the 11 standard, the Jesuit priest conducted ‘retreats’ for us at the college chapel. He joked with us and told us we had two eyes to see, which was why we were in SSC (senior school certificate) classes. When SSC is pronounced in Sinhala, it sounds like eye + eye+ see. He was steadfast in his view that we, seniors, had no excuse to reject or ignore God’s love, which was palpable and self-evident. The rejection of such great love equals sin. His favourite slogan during the retreat was, “God is love, our creator and father.”

The most popular topics at a retreat were love, sex, and marriage. In Catholic social circles, the priest had a reputation as an authority on the sacrament of marriage. He taught us the functions of the vagina and penis, the sacred purpose of sexual intercourse, and diseases one could get from wrong engagement in sex. He then reminded us of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah cities and how entire populations perished because of illicit sex.

The priest was a great scholar. I attended six of his retreats in two years. No other teacher or priest surpassed him in Christian knowledge, practical approach to life, and the exposition of the profound relationship between God and human beings. I still remember his lecture on ‘soul’ in which he debunked the Buddhist theory of anatta (no-soul).

At the end of each retreat, the priest told us that he could see halos around our heads and that we should strive to keep them until the next retreat. Having listened to him for two days, we were subdued and quiet. My mother once told me that I looked like a saint. In fact, after a retreat, a few students reflected on the possibility of becoming priests.

The culmination of teaching catechism was the island-wide examination of religious knowledge conducted by the De La Salle Brothers. Those who passed the test got the Senior Diploma in Religious Knowledge. A student studied two gospels and the Catechism book for the diploma. In 1965, I took the examination and obtained a First-class honours pass. The examination results were displayed on the college noticeboard for several months. The Director encouraged students of higher classes to view the results, feel proud of their alma mater, and perform well with enthusiasm and diligence in their examinations.

The Brother Director conducted an informal catechism class for high school students. He was punctual and brought a small wooden box daily to the class. He gleefully unlocked the small padlock on the box and turned it upside down so boys could see pieces of paper with the questions they had dropped in the box the previous day. The Director preferred to teach us through the question-and-answer method. Each day, the Director randomly took several questions from the box for discussion. Sometimes, he invited students to answer the questions. Those who could answer questions were considered “brilliant” and “good material” for future priesthood.

Most questions focused on how to maintain love affairs with girls when parents and teachers opposed them. Once, the Director tried to tackle this recurrent issue. He summarized the problem: “If a student has a girlfriend, will the College endorse and support the relationship?” The Director looked around the class, removing excess sweat from his forehead with a white handkerchief. The Director said he would support the couple if they love each other, the relationship does not interfere with studies, and the relationship does not involve sex.

In the same breath, the Director cautioned that he would not tolerate a boy going to a cinema hall with a girl during school hours. Students started to probe the issue further, and one asked him whether he would mind if a boy went with a girl to the beach for an evening after school hours. The Director looked disturbed by the question. He said a decent Catholic boy would not take a schoolgirl to the beach where all ruffians had sex with prostitutes.

Then the boy questioned him: Where can they go? The Director thought momentarily and said the boy and the girl should talk to their parents, uncles, and aunts to ascertain whether they would support their relationship and allow them to spend some time at their houses under their close observation. He emphasized that the boy must go home before 6 pm after dropping his girlfriend at her home. All students disagreed with him.

One student complained that visiting relatives with a girlfriend was more complex than bringing her home for tea. Another got up to narrate how one of his aunts spread rumours about him and his girlfriend soon after they left her after a cup of tea. Another suggested that the church and the College should have a favourable attitude towards boys’ rights and mental growth. The Director sympathized with all of them and promised to tell the parish priest to broach this subject in Sunday sermons at the church and advise parents not to be too harsh on boys and their relationships with girls. We all clapped, and the Director beamed with joy.

Another question was why he caned four boys recently for teasing two school girls. He tried to avoid the question by saying that the Mother Superior complained that the four boys had harassed the girls as they were walking along the road that went through the College. He believed decent Catholic boys would not tease girls, especially when they were on the College premises. He reminded us that the College was trying to create gentlemen, not hooligans. A boy then questioned if it was okay to talk to girls when they go through the College? The Director lost his temper. He said, “NO! During school hours, boys must not talk to girls.”

One day, the Director picked up a piece of crumpled paper from the box and read the question. “I plan to marry a beautiful girl one day. Then I will go with my bride to a rest house for our honeymoon. We will get up early the following morning and attend the mass at a nearby church. Can we receive holy communion on that day?” Brother Director looked flabbergasted after reading the question. He scanned the class as if he wanted to identify the questioner. We could see tiny pearls of sweat on his bare head. And he took his handkerchief and wiped the sweat.

He asked a student who sat in the last row whether he understood the question. The student agreed to explain the question: “At the rest house, the couple ‘behaved’ as husband and wife for the first time, and as a result, she lost her virginity that night. It was a messy business, and the boy felt he should not receive holy communion without confessing to a priest about the mess and the bad thing he had done.”

The Director watched the boy’s erudite explanation of the question with glee. He then asked him: “From where did you get the virginity story? I did not see anything about virginity in the question.” Winston answered confidently. “The boy in question hesitated to receive holy communion because he was a novice in sex. So was his wife. Also, they did not understand the sacredness of the marriage sacrament. The boy was innocent and probably never had sex with a girl or a boy. That was why he hesitated to receive holy communion after having sex with his wife.”

The Director beamed happy and declared that Winston had explained several important Christian principles. First, marriage is a sacrament. Second sex between a Catholic man and a woman should occur only after marrying at the Catholic church. Third, having sex with one’s wife is not a sin, but it is an act to propagate God’s will. Fourth, having sex outside of Catholic marriage is a grave sin. But the couple had not done anything wrong that night because they embraced the marriage sacrament and loved each other. They should not hesitate to receive holy communion during their honeymoon.



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Features

Vision of Dr. Gamani Corea and the South’s present development policy options

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Dr. Gamani Core / Dr. Carlos Maria Correa

The ‘takes’ were numerous for the perceptive sections of the public from the Dr. Gamani Corea 100th birth anniversary oration delivered at ‘The Lighthouse’ auditorium, Colombo, by Dr. Carlos Maria Correa, Executive Director of the South Centre in Geneva on November 4th. The fact that Dr. Gamani Corea was instrumental in the establishment of the South Centre decades back enhanced the value of the presentation. The event was organized by the Gamani Corea Foundation.

The presentation proved to be both wide-ranging and lucid. The audience was left in no doubt as to what Dr. Gamani Corea (Dr. GC) bequeathed to the global South by way of developmental policy and thinking besides being enlightened on the historic, institutional foundations he laid for the furtherance of Southern economic and material wellbeing.

For instance, in its essential core Dr. GC’s vision for the South was given as follows: sustainable and equitable growth, a preference for trade over aid, basic structural reform of global economy, enhancement of the collective influence of developing countries in international affairs.

Given the political and economic order at the time, that is the sixties of the last century, these principles were of path-breaking importance. For example, the Cold War was at its height and the economic disempowerment of the developing countries was a major issue of debate in the South. The latter had no ‘say’ in charting their economic future, which task devolved on mainly the West and its prime financial institutions.

Against this backdrop, the vision and principles of Dr. G.C. had the potential of being ‘game changers’ for the developing world. The leadership provided by him to UNCTAD as its long-serving Secretary General and to the Group of 77, now Plus China, proved crucial in, for instance, mitigating some economic inequities which were borne by the South. The Integrated Program for Commodities, which Dr. G.C. helped in putting into place continues to serve some of the best interests of the developing countries.

It was the responsibility of succeeding generations to build on this historic basis for economic betterment which Dr. G.C. helped greatly to establish. Needless to say, all has not gone well for the South since the heyday of Dr. G.C. and it is to the degree to which the South re-organizes itself and works for its betterment as a cohesive and united pressure group that could help the hemisphere in its present ordeals in the international economy. It could begin by rejuvenating the Non-aligned Movement (NAM), for instance.

The coming into being of visionary leaders in the South, will prove integral to the economic and material betterment of the South in the present world order or more accurately, disorder. Complex factors go into the making of leaders of note but generally it is those countries which count as economic heavyweights that could also think beyond self-interest that could feature in filling this vacuum.

A ‘take’ from the Dr. GC memorial oration that needs to be dwelt on at length by the South was the speaker’s disclosure that 46 percent of current global GDP is contributed by the South. Besides, most of world trade takes place among Southern countries. It is also the heyday of multi-polarity and bipolarity is no longer a defining feature of the international political and economic order.

In other words, the global South is now well placed to work towards the realization of some of Dr. GC’s visionary principles. As to whether these aims could be achieved will depend considerably on whether the South could re-organize itself, come together and work selflessly towards the collective wellbeing of the hemisphere.

From this viewpoint the emergence of BRICS could be seen as holding out some possibilities for collective Southern economic betterment but the grouping would need to thrust aside petty intra-group power rivalries, shun narrow national interests, place premium value on collective wellbeing and work towards the development of its least members.

The world is yet to see the latter transpiring and much will depend on the quality of leadership formations such as BRICS could provide. In the latter respect Dr. GC’s intellectual leadership continues to matter. Measuring-up to his leadership standards is a challenge for BRICS and other Southern groupings if at all they visualize a time of relative collective progress for the hemisphere.

However, the mentioned groupings would need to respect the principle of sovereign equality in any future efforts at changing the current world order in favour of all their member countries. Ideally, authoritarian control of such groupings by the more powerful members in their fold would need to be avoided. In fact, progress would need to be predicated on democratic equality.

Future Southern collectivities intent on bettering their lot would also need to bring into sharp focus development in contrast to mere growth. This was also a concern of Dr. G.C. Growth would be welcome, if it also provides sufficiently for economic equity. That is, economic plans would come to nought if a country’s resources are not equally distributed among its people.

The seasoned commentator is bound to realize that this will require a degree of national planning. Likewise, the realization ought to have dawned on Southern governments over the decades that unregulated market forces cannot meet this vital requirement in national development.

Thus, the oration by Dr. Carlos Maria Correa had the effect of provoking his audience into thinking at some considerable length on development issues. Currently, the latter are not in vogue among the majority of decision and policy makers of the South but they will need ‘revisiting’ if the best of Dr. GC’s development thinking is to be made use of.

What makes Dr. GC’s thinking doubly vital are the current trade issues the majority of Southern countries are beginning to face in the wake of the restrictive trade practices inspired by the US. Dr. GC was an advocate of international cooperation and it is to the degree to which intra-South economic cooperation takes hold that the South could face the present economic challenges successfully by itself as a collectivity. An urgent coming together of Southern countries could no longer be postponed.

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Attitude development: Key to national progress

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In a developing country like Sri Lanka, one of the main challenges, is developing attitudes and social values of its citizens. Attitudes are the behaviours and beliefs that shape an individual’s or society’s actions. These attitudes have a significant impact on personal and societal development. Therefore, developing the right attitudes is crucial for the progress of a nation.

Why is Attitude Development Important?

Attitude development has a profound impact on various aspects of society. For instance, promoting efficiency, creativity, and innovation can accelerate economic growth. When citizens have a positive attitude towards work and entrepreneurship, they are more likely to contribute to the country’s economic development. Similarly, preserving and promoting social and cultural values can strengthen social harmony and cohesion. A society with a positive attitude towards diversity and inclusivity is more likely to be peaceful and prosperous.

Role of Education in Attitude Development

Education is a key factor in shaping attitudes. A well-educated population is more likely to have a positive attitude towards life, work, and society. Education helps individuals develop critical thinking skills, which enable them to make informed decisions and solve problems effectively. Moreover, education can promote values such as tolerance, empathy, and respect for others, which are essential for building a harmonious society.

Impact of Media on Attitude Development

The media plays a significant role in shaping attitudes. With the advent of social media, people are exposed to a vast amount of information, which can influence their attitudes and behaviours. The media can promote positive attitudes and values, such as kindness, compassion, and social responsibility. However, it can also perpetuate negative attitudes and stereotypes, which can be detrimental to society.

Role of Community Participation in Attitude Development

Community participation is essential for attitude development. When individuals participate in community service and volunteer work, they develop a sense of social responsibility and empathy towards others. Community participation can also promote values such as teamwork, leadership, and communication skills. Moreover, it can help build stronger, more cohesive communities.

Importance of Leadership in Attitude Development

Leadership plays a crucial role in shaping attitudes. Leaders can inspire and motivate individuals to adopt positive attitudes and behaviours. They can promote values such as integrity, accountability, and transparency, which are essential for building trust and confidence in institutions. Moreover, leaders can create a positive work culture that encourages innovation, creativity, and productivity.

Role of Parents and Teachers in Attitude Development

Parents and teachers play a vital role in shaping the attitudes of children. Children learn by observing and imitating adults, so it’s essential for parents and teachers to model positive attitudes and behaviours. They can promote values such as respect, kindness, and responsibility, which are essential for building a positive and productive society.

Benefits of Positive Attitudes

Positive attitudes have numerous benefits for individuals and society. They can improve mental and physical health, increase productivity, and enhance overall well-being. Positive attitudes can also promote better relationships, improve communication skills, and increase resilience. Moreover, they can inspire individuals to achieve their goals and pursue their passions.

Challenges of Developing Positive Attitudes

Developing positive attitudes can be challenging, especially in the face of adversity. It requires effort, commitment, and perseverance. Moreover, individuals may face resistance from others who are not supportive of change. However, with the right mindset and support, individuals can overcome these challenges and develop positive attitudes that benefit themselves and society.

Role of Technology in Attitude Development

Technology can play a significant role in attitude development. Online platforms and social media can provide access to information, resources, and support that can help individuals develop positive attitudes. Technology can also facilitate communication, collaboration, and networking, which are essential for building positive relationships and communities.

Future of Attitude Development

The future of attitude development is promising. With the increasing awareness of the importance of mental health, well-being, and social responsibility, more people are recognising the need to develop positive attitudes. Moreover, technological advancements and innovations can provide new opportunities for attitude development and social impact.

The attitude development is crucial for the progress of a nation. It requires a collective effort from individuals, institutions, and leaders to promote positive attitudes and values. By working together, we can build a society that is more harmonious, productive, and prosperous. By developing positive attitudes, we can overcome challenges, achieve our goals, and create a brighter future for ourselves and future generations.

Recommendations

To promote attitude development in Sri Lanka, we recommend the following:

*  Integrate attitude development programmes in schools and universities

* Provide training and resources for parents and teachers to promote positive attitudes in children

* Encourage community participation and volunteer work

* Promote positive attitudes and values through media and social media

* Recognise and reward individuals and organisations that demonstrate positive attitudes and behaviours

By implementing these recommendations, we can create a society that values and promotes positive attitudes and behaviours. This will enable us to build a brighter future for ourselves and future generations.

By Jayantha K. Pathirana (M.A)
(Former Principal of Katuwana National School)

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Amid Winds and Waves: Sri Lanka and the Indian Ocean – IV

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South Asia Shipping routes. Map courtesy Export Development Board

(Part III of this article appeared yesterday (04)

Maritime Security and the Blue Economy amid Winds and Waves

The post-war reconfiguration of Sri Lanka’s foreign policy inevitably drew the country’s gaze toward the sea. As the island sought to redefine its global relevance beyond the narratives of conflict and sovereignty, the Indian Ocean emerged as both opportunity and test. Strategic geography, once a source of vulnerability, began to be reframed as a foundation for growth, connectivity, and influence. The maritime domain offered a new framework through which Sri Lanka could integrate security, development, and diplomacy — a shift from land-locked anxieties to ocean-oriented aspiration. It is within this context that Colombo’s engagement with the Blue Economy and maritime security took shape, reflecting an effort to navigate the winds and waves of regional competition while reclaiming the sea as a space of national renewal and international partnership.

Across decades, Sri Lanka’s small-state strategy reveals a consistent pattern: the blending of prudence with principle, and the translation of anxiety into diplomacy. The island’s leaders—regardless of ideological orientation—have confronted the same structural dilemma: how to engage the world without being engulfed by it. Strategic ambiguity, embedded in a besieged mentality yet sustained by a peace drive, has been the enduring response.

The persistence of this strategy underscores a central paradox of Sri Lankan foreign policy: that autonomy must be defended not through isolation, but through participation on carefully negotiated terms. For Sri Lanka, the ocean is both lifeline and frontier—the defining feature of its geography and the principal determinant of its security and prosperity. The island’s position astride the main east–west maritime artery renders it uniquely exposed to shifts in global commerce, naval presence, and ecological change. Yet this same exposure also endows Sri Lanka with strategic visibility and economic potential. The sea, in Sri Lanka’s worldview, is not merely a boundary but a medium through which power, trade, and ideas flow.

For a small island state such as Sri Lanka, maritime security extends beyond the traditional concerns of safeguarding territorial waters, sea-lanes, and coastal infrastructure. It involves the broader task of reducing vulnerabilities and strengthening the capacity to respond to emerging maritime threats—ranging from piracy, illegal fishing, and environmental degradation to strategic competition among major powers. The modes of operation available to small states in meeting these challenges are inevitably shaped by the moral and material resources at their disposal, as well as by their geopolitical location. In recent years, the notion of maritime security has expanded to encompass the sustainable use of marine resources, the protection of ocean ecosystems, and the responsible exploration of seabed mineral resources that hold both promise and peril. Within this evolving framework, the Blue Economy has emerged as a key integrative concept, linking security, environmental stewardship, and economic diversification. It underscores the understanding that maritime stability and national prosperity are mutually reinforcing—and that enduring security for small states like Sri Lanka depends as much on prudent management and cooperation as on deterrence and defense.

From Vulnerability to Resource Governance

For small island states such as Sri Lanka, vulnerability is not merely an episodic condition but a structural reality shaped by geography, resource endowment, and external dependence. Two interrelated dimensions define this predicament: resource vulnerability and strategic vulnerability. Resource vulnerability arises from the inability to manage, monitor, and exploit oceanic assets effectively, leaving them susceptible to overuse, external extraction, or environmental degradation. Strategic vulnerability, in turn, stems from the asymmetries of power that shape maritime interactions in the Indian Ocean—where the interests of major powers, often couched in scientific or commercial terms, intersect with the sovereign space of smaller coastal states

For small island states such as Sri Lanka, vulnerability is not merely an episodic condition but a structural reality shaped by geography, resource endowment, and external dependence. Two interrelated dimensions define this predicament: resource vulnerability and strategic vulnerability. Resource vulnerability arises from the inability to manage, monitor, and exploit oceanic assets effectively, leaving them susceptible to overuse, external extraction, or environmental degradation. Strategic vulnerability, in turn, stems from the asymmetries of power that shape maritime interactions in the Indian Ocean—where the interests of major powers, often couched in scientific or commercial terms, intersect with the sovereign space of smaller coastal states.

The ocean’s promise is thus shadowed by vulnerability. Offshore and seabed mineral resources exemplify this duality. For Sri Lanka, the potential wealth of the seabed—ranging from hydrocarbons to cobalt-rich deposits—offers significant prospects for diversification and growth. Yet, this same promise can become a liability when exploration activities invite external involvement that outpaces national regulatory or scientific capacity. The entry of Chinese research vessels into Sri Lanka’s territorial waters and Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) has underscored how scientific exploration can blur into geopolitical maneuvering, generating domestic anxiety and diplomatic tension. Similarly, the competing claims by India and Sri Lanka over two tracts in the cobalt-rich Afanasy–Nikitin Seamount demonstrate how overlapping ambitions in resource exploration can translate into strategic contestation, testing the resilience of regional cooperation frameworks.

Sri Lanka’s maritime domain faces multiple pressures: illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing; competition over undersea resources; piracy and trafficking; and the long-term threat of climate change and sea-level rise. These challenges intersect with great-power competition in the Indian Ocean, where naval deployments, port access agreements, and infrastructure financing often blur the line between economic development and strategic dependency. In this environment, maritime security becomes inseparable from resource governance. Sri Lanka’s EEZ—almost eight times its land area—contains vast potential for fisheries, minerals, and renewable energy. However, the capacity to monitor, regulate, and exploit these resources responsibly remains limited. External assistance, while necessary, introduces new asymmetries of dependence.

The path from vulnerability to governance therefore requires institutional strengthening, regional cooperation, and a redefinition of Sri Lanka’s maritime constabulary role—not merely as a defensive function but as a mechanism of stewardship and sovereignty. Effective resource governance is thus both a developmental and a strategic imperative: it enables small states to transform exposure into agency, and to convert the ocean’s uncertainty into a managed space of opportunity.

Blue Economy as Strategic and Developmental Framework

The Blue Economy has emerged as both an economic paradigm and a strategic doctrine for oceanic and coastal states. Broadly defined, it refers to the sustainable use of ocean resources for economic growth, improved livelihoods, and ecosystem health. For small states such as Sri Lanka, the Blue Economy extends the logic of the Green Economy into the maritime sphere—combining environmental stewardship with developmental and geopolitical agency. It recognizes that the sea is not merely a frontier of extraction or defense, but a living system whose long-term health underpins national security and prosperity alike.

For Sri Lanka, located at the heart of the Indian Ocean, the Blue Economy offers a framework to transform vulnerability into opportunity. It links sustainability to sovereignty: by managing marine resources responsibly, the island can assert agency in a domain where traditional hard power is limited. This framework encourages diversification away from dependency on land-based and low-value exports toward ocean-based industries such as marine biotechnology, renewable ocean energy, sustainable fisheries, and coastal tourism. By integrating innovation and environmental ethics, Sri Lanka can build resilience against the twin shocks of climate change and external economic volatility.

The Blue Economy should therefore be viewed not only as a developmental agenda but as a key pillar of Sri Lanka’s maritime strategy. It provides a peaceful and cooperative means of leveraging geographic advantage—turning the Indian Ocean from a theatre of vulnerability into a space of managed opportunity. The island’s active participation in the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), particularly in working groups on fisheries, maritime safety, and blue carbon ecosystems, reflects its emerging role as a norm entrepreneur. By promoting sustainable resource management and equitable access, Sri Lanka projects moral authority within regional diplomacy, consistent with its historical commitment to peace and neutrality.

Nevertheless, the realization of a genuinely “blue” economy remains constrained by several factors. Limited technological capacity, inadequate maritime governance frameworks, and fragmented institutional coordination hinder progress. External financing—while essential for developing port and ocean energy infrastructure—can also reproduce patterns of strategic dependence. Meanwhile, overfishing, marine pollution, and the slow pace of adaptation to climate change threaten both livelihoods and ecosystems. Sri Lanka’s successes include early policy recognition of the Blue Economy’s potential, regional leadership within IORA, and emerging partnerships in ocean observation and renewable energy. Yet, its challenges lie in translating these commitments into enforceable regulations, scientific capacity, and integrated governance mechanisms.

The way forward requires Sri Lanka to consolidate its Blue Economy strategy around three priorities: first, investing in marine science and data infrastructure to enhance resource governance; second, fostering public–private partnerships that align innovation with sustainability; and third, deepening regional and multilateral cooperation to ensure that the Indian Ocean remains a space of shared prosperity rather than strategic rivalry. By doing so, Sri Lanka can make the Blue Economy not only a developmental framework but also a foundation for a new, peace-oriented maritime order.

Despite the cooperative rhetoric surrounding the Blue Economy as a strategic and developmental framework, its security dimension remains inescapable. The Indo-Pacific discourse has intensified naval activity and security partnerships across the Indian Ocean, at times reducing smaller coastal states to little more than strategic real estate. For Sri Lanka, the challenge lies in participating in these frameworks—through exercises, information-sharing, and maritime domain awareness—without being drawn into alliance politics.

In recent years, Colombo has pursued a delicate equilibrium: engaging with the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (Quad) countries on maritime safety while sustaining defence cooperation with China and aligning with India’s Neighbourhood First policy. This calibrated engagement reflects the broader pattern of strategic ambiguity typical of small-state behaviour. It enables Sri Lanka to derive capacity-building benefits from multiple partners while avoiding deeper entanglements.

Here again, the island’s besieged mentality resurfaces—not as paralysis but as prudence. The lingering fear of encirclement translates into a strategy of controlled openness: welcoming maritime partnerships but resisting their militarization. By emphasizing the Blue Economy, Colombo shifts the discourse from confrontation to cooperation, repositioning itself not as a pawn in great-power rivalries but as a facilitator of inclusive ocean governance.

The Ocean as Moral and Strategic Space

The moral geography of the Indian Ocean is also reflected in the island’s collective psychology—a continuous oscillation between a besieged mentality and cosmopolitanism. The sea evokes both fear and freedom: the fear of encirclement and exploitation, and the freedom of connection and exchange. This dual consciousness, formed through centuries of colonial intrusion and maritime coexistence, continues to inform Sri Lanka’s strategic imagination. To perceive the ocean as moral space is, therefore, to reconcile these inner contradictions—to convert the anxiety of smallness into an ethic of responsible openness.

For Sri Lanka, the sea is not only an economic and security frontier but also a moral geography. The island’s historical experience has always been marked by duality: exposure and connection, vulnerability and possibility. As an island, Sri Lanka has lived with the perpetual tension between openness and insecurity—its shores have invited commerce, migration, and cultural fertilization, yet also conquest and exploitation. This tension gives moral depth to the maritime imagination: the ocean is not merely a space of movement or material extraction but a field where moral choices are enacted—between domination and reciprocity, extraction and stewardship, isolation and coexistence. The moral properties of this space arise from its capacity to bind peoples and histories across differences, to remind coastal societies of their interdependence, and to reveal the ethical consequences of maritime engagement. In this sense, Sri Lanka’s relationship with the Indian Ocean has never been simply strategic; it has been existential—a dialogue between geography and responsibility.

Beneath this duality lies a deeper social–psychological rhythm: the interplay between a besieged mentality and a cosmopolitan impulse. The sea has long evoked for Sri Lankans both fear and fascination—the fear of encirclement, invasion, and dependency, and the fascination with connection, exchange, and self-renewal.

The besieged mentality stems from the memory of colonial exploitation and from the perpetual sense of smallness in a world dominated by larger powers. Yet, alongside this anxiety runs a countercurrent of cosmopolitanism rooted in centuries of maritime coexistence—Arab, Malay, Indian, European, and African influences that made the island a microcosm of the Indian Ocean world. These two sensibilities—protective insularity and ethical openness—have coexisted, shaping Sri Lanka’s moral geography of the sea. To imagine the Indian Ocean as a moral space is thus to reconcile these inner contradictions: to transform the fear of exposure into a philosophy of connection, and to redefine security as the practice of responsible engagement.

Understanding the ocean as moral space also means acknowledging its place in the making of maritime moral geography. Across centuries, the Indian Ocean has been a medium of moral and cultural exchange: the spread of Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity; the circulation of traders, monks, and ideas; the coexistence of diverse communities bound by the ethics of navigation and hospitality. These histories form a counter-narrative to imperial cartographies that reduced the sea to a zone of control. By reclaiming this moral geography, Sri Lanka situates itself within a long tradition of ethical connectivity—one that predates and transcends the modern nation-state. The island’s strategic choices, therefore, cannot be divorced from this inheritance: to act justly in the oceanic realm is to honor a legacy of coexistence and shared stewardship.

From this perspective, framing the Indian Ocean as a space of peace, sustainability, and shared heritage becomes both a moral and strategic act. It enables Sri Lanka to transform its geopolitical vulnerabilities into a diplomatic asset—an articulation of responsibility rather than merely of interest. This approach has situated the island within the Global South’s broader moral economy of international relations: an effort to humanize strategy through principles of equity, care, and cooperation. The Blue Economy, in this light, becomes not only policy but philosophy—a moral response to the ecological and political anxieties of smallness. It seeks to reimagine security as coexistence, and prosperity as stewardship, turning the Indian Ocean into a living archive of ethical possibility. By projecting a moral vision of the sea, Sri Lanka asserts that strategy itself can be a form of moral imagination—one that binds survival to responsibility and geography to conscience

The Indian Ocean: Moral Geography and the Global South Perspective

The moral geography of the Indian Ocean, as seen through Sri Lanka’s experience, offers a vital lens for understanding how the Global South imagines space, agency, and ethics. For Sri Lanka, the ocean has always been more than a route of trade or a theatre of strategy—it has been a living archive of connection and vulnerability, a mirror of its historical condition as both a crossroads and a frontier. This maritime consciousness has located Sri Lanka within a broader Global South tradition that seeks to reclaim moral agency from the margins of global politics. In this context, the Indian Ocean becomes a space through which postcolonial societies articulate a humane alternative to the dominant logic of power—an attempt to redefine the global order through the language of reciprocity, stewardship, and coexistence (Acharya 2014; Bose 2006).

The Indian Ocean has long functioned as an ethical commons of the Global South—a space that historically linked African, Arab, South Asian, and Southeast Asian societies in networks of exchange, pilgrimage, and pluralism. Before the colonial era imposed boundaries and hierarchies, the ocean connected communities through practices of trade and mutual care that reflected a shared moral economy (Chaudhuri 1985). Sri Lanka was integral to this oceanic world: its ports from Manthai to Galle were nodes of cosmopolitan encounter, where diverse peoples negotiated differences through hospitality and cultural translation. This deep history of connectivity offers an ethical counterpoint to the militarized and extractive geographies imposed during the colonial and Cold War periods. To retrieve this past is to affirm the Global South’s claim to historical agency and to challenge the reduction of the ocean to a mere space of rivalry or resource competition (Bose 2006).

From a Sri Lankan perspective, moral geography provides an idiom for transforming the anxieties of smallness into a vision of ethical leadership. The island’s postcolonial diplomacy—particularly its advocacy of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace in the 1970s and its later embrace of the Blue Economy—reflects this enduring aspiration to balance survival with moral responsibility (Gunasekara 2021). These initiatives exemplify the Global South’s wider effort to humanize international relations: to shift the vocabulary of strategy from control to coexistence, from competition to cooperation. For Sri Lanka, the moral geography of the sea thus becomes a method of asserting presence in global affairs without recourse to dominance—what could be termed strategic ethics, or the art of wielding moral imagination as a form of soft power.

This moral reorientation resonates with broader Global South perspectives that critique the moral asymmetries of the international system. As Amitav Acharya (2014) argues, Global South approaches to world order seek to pluralize international relations by foregrounding non-Western traditions of thought and coexistence. Similarly, Walter Mignolo (2011) and others have described this as border thinking—the effort to imagine global ethics from the margins, drawing from subaltern histories of encounter and exchange. In this sense, Sri Lanka’s oceanic worldview embodies a form of Southern cosmopolitanism: grounded in local experience but open to the universal, protective yet participatory. It extends the moral geography of the Indian Ocean into a planetary register, proposing that the future of maritime order must be built on the ethical lessons of its past.

In the end, to conceive the Indian Ocean as a moral space is to articulate a Global South vision of world order—one that binds geography to responsibility and history to justice. The sea becomes not merely a surface of strategy but a metaphor for relational being: fluid, interconnected, and morally consequential. Sri Lanka’s perspective, shaped by both exposure and resilience, exemplifies how small states can contribute to the moral imagination of the Global South. By invoking the Indian Ocean as a shared moral frontier, Sri Lanka gestures toward a post-hegemonic internationalism—an oceanic humanism that reclaims the sea as a site of ethical possibility and cooperative survival. The Global South does not merely navigate the world; it redefines what it means to inhabit it together.

(To be concluded tomorrow)

Prof. Gamini Keerawella

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