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Being in the circle

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Hostel. Photo by Uditha Devapriya

By Uthpala Wijesuriya

It was a quiet evening. I was alone at home, lying on the couch and watching TV.
Suddenly the phone rang. I ran and picked it up.
“Is this Uthpala?” the voice on the other side asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Congratulations son, you got 190 marks for your exam!”

I had lived the first 10 years of my life in Mataluwawa, a small village in the Kurunegala district in the North-Western Province of Sri Lanka. I had spent my childhood here, and it had been my world for as long as I could remember.

I had studied at a local school, Polpithigama National School, where I made my very first friends. Though I had spent a rather ordinary childhood there, I had managed to get myself involved in a number of activities.

The exam to which the voice on the other side of the phone referred was the Grade Five Scholarship, an annual all-island assessment that gives students who have completed their primary education an opportunity to obtain their secondary education in schools with better facilities. Out of 200 marks, I had obtained 190.

My family were quite happy, and immediately got busy selecting a school for me. They had different ideas about where I should go. My father had studied at a school in Kurunegala, Maliyadeva Boys’ School, and wanted to send me there. But some relatives insisted to my parents that they should send me to Colombo. Given my results, they asked my parents to send me to Royal College, a magnet for scholarship wallahs in the country.

Ultimately, they decided to send me to Royal. I entered there in January 2014. Having spent the better part of a decade in a close-knit village and community, I felt nervous leaving the world I had grown up in.

I still remember my first day at Royal. It was a Thursday. We had taken an early morning train to Colombo and had breakfast in the city, reaching school at around 9 am.

Royal College had been founded at the heyday of British colonial rule in Sri Lanka, and as a result was strewn with Victorian architecture. Though I knew nothing about Victorian architectural styles, I remember feeling out of place when I saw the red-bricked buildings for the first time. It was like being transported to another time.

After an orientation program, we were promptly directed to our classrooms. Before coming to Colombo I had been told by various people that these would be top-notch classrooms. As it turned out, they were no different to ordinary classrooms. This was a relief to me, since it helped me familiarize myself with my new setting better.

There remained the issue of where I would be boarded. The obvious solution was the school hostel. Following an orientation, my parents boarded me there. Having finalized everything, we returned home. We would return to school the following week.

We spent that weekend preparing everything for my stay at the hostel: bedsheets, towels, uniforms, one for each day of the week. The plan was that I would spend all five days at the hostel, then return home with my father for the weekend.

I looked forward to exploring my new surroundings. This time around, we went to the hostel in our vehicle. My parents had talked to the parents of another boarder from Kurunegala. They had come early that day to reserve a bed for me next to their son’s bed in the dormitory, one of two dormitories reserved for Grade Six students.

The room contained four bunk beds. There were two others in my room. One was from Ambalangoda and the other from Matara from the country’s Southern Province. Though Sri Lanka is a small island, it is home to an extraordinary array of cultures. Through my new friends at the hostel, I found myself absorbing these cultures.

Author at Royal College Hostel Day, 2022. Courtesy Royal College Hostel

We got to know each other. Suddenly, we heard a bell ringing. It was time for lunch. We were all taken to the dining hall. Once lunch was done, we resumed our conversations, forging friendships that would last for the rest of our school lives.

Over the next few days, I explored my new school. The following month, the Senior Prefects at Royal took us on a tour around Colombo. This was the first time I saw a film in 3D. We were then taken to the National Museum and the Zoo. The Senior Prefects ended the day with a series of activities. From dusk to dawn, they made us all feel part of a group. Slowly but surely, my feelings of unease left me.

From the beginning, I realized that Royal hosted different kinds of people and communities. Unlike my earlier school, which had been located in a predominantly Sinhala and Buddhist village, at Royal everyone seemed to have a place. As time went by, I appreciated this secular character. For me, it seemed to make everything more inclusive.

In those early days, however, I faced a problem. Around half the students I knew spoke and, it seemed, thought in English. Since I had come from a background where everyone spoke in and thought and breathed Sinhala, this somewhat intimidated me.

I came from an environment in which no one spoke, still less thought, in English. In our village English was regarded as a sword, a weapon which could and often was wielded against those who could not speak it properly. Those of us who were not fluent in it saw it as a challenge to be overcome. As I went along with my studies, I realized that, at my school and everywhere else, those who spoke it well held or were elevated to positions of power. To wield English, put simply, was a privilege open to a few.

Living away from my parents complicated these matters further. Many of my friends cried. They could not adjust to their new homes and wanted to be with their mothers and fathers. Some of them had never heard an English song until they heard and had to sing the school anthem. Many found it hard to adjust. A few returned to their homes.

I could not really blame them. Colombo, the capital of the country, stood a world away from our homes and communities. As we went along, we confronted one new experience after another. In our villages, for instance, life had always been slow and quiet. But in Colombo things seem fast, sped up, full of sound and noise. We felt intimidated by it all, and though we eventually adjusted, it took time.

Unlike many of my friends, I did not cry for my parents. But I still missed home. I thus spent whatever free time I had pursuing as many activities as I could. Since English was my biggest concern, I decided to focus on becoming more fluent in it.

I realized, however, that forcing myself to be fluent in English, in the long run, could make me forget my own language and culture. I did not want to do this. Although my school was seen as an elite enclave, I did not want to be a part of an elite. I certainly did not want to join such a crowd while forgetting or laying aside who I was.

Some of my friends faced this challenge in other ways. Many of them hailed from regions where different Sinhala dialects were spoken. Over time, I discovered this made them the butt-end of one joke after another at school, mostly among those who had grown up in Colombo. In response, many friends forced themselves to speak in a more “refined” dialect or accent. I sensed they were eager not to be seen as village bumpkins.

I understood their dilemma and sympathized with them. But seeing them made me realize how futile it was to suppress my own identity. It was not a shame to say you came from a village. Besides, I had been told that Royal was reputed for its atmosphere of inclusivity, its diversity. What purpose would it serve if I forgot who I was?

My response to all this was to involve myself in as many sports and co-curricular activities as I could. These included basketball, football, boxing, and cadeting. I taught myself to read and speak in English, while also keeping in touch with my language, my culture.

At the end of the year my efforts paid off when I won the Grade Six English Language Prize.

To me, this was something of a surprise. The English Prize was seen as the preserve of those who spoke and thought in English at Royal College. I had competed not just with my classmates, but with those who spoke and wrote in English. That I prevailed over them and had won shocked me. I suspected it shocked them too.

It was then that I learnt the biggest lesson I could ever pick up at Royal: that you did not have to force yourself to be like others to stand out or fit in.

As my first year at my new school ended, I looked back with some consolation. I had set out to prove myself to others, and had done so while being true to myself. It was challenging to assert my identity in a new surrounding. In my own way, I had met that challenge, and learnt how to be part of a new world without forgetting where I came from.

Uthpala Wijesuriya is a history and political researcher and aspiring archivist. He is interested in fields like art, culture, and anthropology, and in how human beings interact with each other. He is one of the two leads in U & U, an informal art and culture research collective. He can be reached at .



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Rebuilding the country requires consultation

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A positive feature of the government that is emerging is its responsiveness to public opinion. The manner in which it has been responding to the furore over the Grade 6 English Reader, in which a weblink to a gay dating site was inserted, has been constructive. Government leaders have taken pains to explain the mishap and reassure everyone concerned that it was not meant to be there and would be removed. They have been meeting religious prelates, educationists and community leaders. In a context where public trust in institutions has been badly eroded over many years, such responsiveness matters. It signals that the government sees itself as accountable to society, including to parents, teachers, and those concerned about the values transmitted through the school system.

This incident also appears to have strengthened unity within the government. The attempt by some opposition politicians and gender misogynists to pin responsibility for this lapse on Prime Minister Dr Harini Amarasuriya, who is also the Minister of Education, has prompted other senior members of the government to come to her defence. This is contrary to speculation that the powerful JVP component of the government is unhappy with the prime minister. More importantly, it demonstrates an understanding within the government that individual ministers should not be scapegoated for systemic shortcomings. Effective governance depends on collective responsibility and solidarity within the leadership, especially during moments of public controversy.

The continuing important role of the prime minister in the government is evident in her meetings with international dignitaries and also in addressing the general public. Last week she chaired the inaugural meeting of the Presidential Task Force to Rebuild Sri Lanka in the aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah. The composition of the task force once again reflects the responsiveness of the government to public opinion. Unlike previous mechanisms set up by governments, which were either all male or without ethnic minority representation, this one includes both, and also includes civil society representation. Decision-making bodies in which there is diversity are more likely to command public legitimacy.

Task Force

The Presidential Task Force to Rebuild Sri Lanka overlooks eight committees to manage different aspects of the recovery, each headed by a sector minister. These committees will focus on Needs Assessment, Restoration of Public Infrastructure, Housing, Local Economies and Livelihoods, Social Infrastructure, Finance and Funding, Data and Information Systems, and Public Communication. This structure appears comprehensive and well designed. However, experience from post-disaster reconstruction in countries such as Indonesia and Sri Lanka after the 2004 tsunami suggests that institutional design alone does not guarantee success. What matters equally is how far these committees engage with those on the ground and remain open to feedback that may complicate, slow down, or even challenge initial plans.

An option that the task force might wish to consider is to develop a linkage with civil society groups with expertise in the areas that the task force is expected to work. The CSO Collective for Emergency Relief has set up several committees that could be linked to the committees supervised by the task force. Such linkages would not weaken the government’s authority but strengthen it by grounding policy in lived realities. Recent findings emphasise the idea of “co-production”, where state and society jointly shape solutions in which sustainable outcomes often emerge when communities are treated not as passive beneficiaries but as partners in problem-solving.

Cyclone Ditwah destroyed more than physical infrastructure. It also destroyed communities. Some were swallowed by landslides and floods, while many others will need to be moved from their homes as they live in areas vulnerable to future disasters. The trauma of displacement is not merely material but social and psychological. Moving communities to new locations requires careful planning. It is not simply a matter of providing people with houses. They need to be relocated to locations and in a manner that permits communities to live together and to have livelihoods. This will require consultation with those who are displaced. Post-disaster evaluations have acknowledged that relocation schemes imposed without community consent often fail, leading to abandonment of new settlements or the emergence of new forms of marginalisation. Even today, abandoned tsunami housing is to be seen in various places that were affected by the 2004 tsunami.

Malaiyaha Tamils

The large-scale reconstruction that needs to take place in parts of the country most severely affected by Cyclone Ditwah also brings an opportunity to deal with the special problems of the Malaiyaha Tamil population. These are people of recent Indian origin who were unjustly treated at the time of Independence and denied rights of citizenship such as land ownership and the vote. This has been a festering problem and a blot on the conscience of the country. The need to resettle people living in those parts of the hill country which are vulnerable to landslides is an opportunity to do justice by the Malaiyaha Tamil community. Technocratic solutions such as high-rise apartments or English-style townhouses that have or are being contemplated may be cost-effective, but may also be culturally inappropriate and socially disruptive. The task is not simply to build houses but to rebuild communities.

The resettlement of people who have lost their homes and communities requires consultation with them. In the same manner, the education reform programme, of which the textbook controversy is only a small part, too needs to be discussed with concerned stakeholders including school teachers and university faculty. Opening up for discussion does not mean giving up one’s own position or values. Rather, it means recognising that better solutions emerge when different perspectives are heard and negotiated. Consultation takes time and can be frustrating, particularly in contexts of crisis where pressure for quick results is intense. However, solutions developed with stakeholder participation are more resilient and less costly in the long run.

Rebuilding after Cyclone Ditwah, addressing historical injustices faced by the Malaiyaha Tamil community, advancing education reform, changing the electoral system to hold provincial elections without further delay and other challenges facing the government, including national reconciliation, all require dialogue across differences and patience with disagreement. Opening up for discussion is not to give up on one’s own position or values, but to listen, to learn, and to arrive at solutions that have wider acceptance. Consultation needs to be treated as an investment in sustainability and legitimacy and not as an obstacle to rapid decisionmaking. Addressing the problems together, especially engagement with affected parties and those who work with them, offers the best chance of rebuilding not only physical infrastructure but also trust between the government and people in the year ahead.

 

by Jehan Perera

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PSTA: Terrorism without terror continues

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When the government appointed a committee, led by Rienzie Arsekularatne, Senior President’s Counsel, to draft a new law to replace the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), as promised by the ruling NPP, the writer, in an article published in this journal in July 2025, expressed optimism that, given Arsekularatne’s experience in criminal justice, he would be able to address issues from the perspectives of the State, criminal justice, human rights, suspects, accused, activists, and victims. The draft Protection of the State from Terrorism Act (PSTA), produced by the Committee, has been sharply criticised by individuals and organisations who expected a better outcome that aligns with modern criminal justice and human rights principles.

This article is limited to a discussion of the definition of terrorism. As the writer explained previously, the dangers of an overly broad definition go beyond conviction and increased punishment. Special laws on terrorism allow deviations from standard laws in areas such as preventive detention, arrest, administrative detention, restrictions on judicial decisions regarding bail, lengthy pre-trial detention, the use of confessions, superadded punishments, such as confiscation of property and cancellation of professional licences, banning organisations, and restrictions on publications, among others. The misuse of such laws is not uncommon. Drastic legislation, such as the PTA and emergency regulations, although intended to be used to curb intense violence and deal with emergencies, has been exploited to suppress political opposition.

 

International Standards

The writer’s basic premise is that, for an act to come within the definition of terrorism, it must either involve “terror” or a “state of intense or overwhelming fear” or be committed to achieve an objective of an individual or organisation that uses “terror” or a “state of intense or overwhelming fear” to realise its aims. The UN General Assembly has accepted that the threshold for a possible general offence of terrorism is the provocation of “a state of terror” (Resolution 60/43). The Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe has taken a similar view, using the phrase “to create a climate of terror.”

In his 2023 report on the implementation of the UN Global Counter-Terrorism Strategy, the Secretary-General warned that vague and overly broad definitions of terrorism in domestic law, often lacking adequate safeguards, violate the principle of legality under international human rights law. He noted that such laws lead to heavy-handed, ineffective, and counterproductive counter-terrorism practices and are frequently misused to target civil society actors and human rights defenders by labelling them as terrorists to obstruct their work.

The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) has stressed in its Handbook on Criminal Justice Responses to Terrorism that definitions of terrorist acts must use precise and unambiguous language, narrowly define punishable conduct and clearly distinguish it from non-punishable behaviour or offences subject to other penalties. The handbook was developed over several months by a team of international experts, including the writer, and was finalised at a workshop in Vienna.

 

Anti-Terrorism Bill, 2023

A five-member Bench of the Supreme Court that examined the Anti-Terrorism Bill, 2023, agreed with the petitioners that the definition of terrorism in the Bill was too broad and infringed Article 12(1) of the Constitution, and recommended that an exemption (“carve out”) similar to that used in New Zealand under which “the fact that a person engages in any protest, advocacy, or dissent, or engages in any strike, lockout, or other industrial action, is not, by itself, a sufficient basis for inferring that the person” committed the wrongful acts that would otherwise constitute terrorism.

While recognising the Court’s finding that the definition was too broad, the writer argued, in his previous article, that the political, administrative, and law enforcement cultures of the country concerned are crucial factors to consider. Countries such as New Zealand are well ahead of developing nations, where the risk of misuse is higher, and, therefore, definitions should be narrower, with broader and more precise exemptions. How such a “carve out” would play out in practice is uncertain.

In the Supreme Court, it was submitted that for an act to constitute an offence, under a special law on terrorism, there must be terror unleashed in the commission of the act, or it must be carried out in pursuance of the object of an organisation that uses terror to achieve its objectives. In general, only acts that aim at creating “terror” or a “state of intense or overwhelming fear” should come under the definition of terrorism. There can be terrorism-related acts without violence, for example, when a member of an extremist organisation remotely sabotages an electronic, automated or computerised system in pursuance of the organisation’s goal. But when the same act is committed by, say, a whizz-kid without such a connection, that would be illegal and should be punished, but not under a special law on terrorism. In its determination of the Bill, the Court did not address this submission.

 

PSTA Proposal

Proposed section 3(1) of the PSTA reads:

Any person who, intentionally or knowingly, commits any act which causes a consequence specified in subsection (2), for the purpose of-

(a) provoking a state of terror;

(b) intimidating the public or any section of the public;

(c) compelling the Government of Sri Lanka, or any other Government, or an international organisation, to do or to abstain from doing any act; or

(d) propagating war, or violating territorial integrity or infringing the sovereignty of Sri Lanka or any other sovereign country, commits the offence of terrorism.

The consequences listed in sub-section (2) include: death; hurt; hostage-taking; abduction or kidnapping; serious damage to any place of public use, any public property, any public or private transportation system or any infrastructure facility or environment; robbery, extortion or theft of public or private property; serious risk to the health and safety of the public or a section of the public; serious obstruction or damage to, or interference with, any electronic or automated or computerised system or network or cyber environment of domains assigned to, or websites registered with such domains assigned to Sri Lanka; destruction of, or serious damage to, religious or cultural property; serious obstruction or damage to, or interference with any electronic, analogue, digital or other wire-linked or wireless transmission system, including signal transmission and any other frequency-based transmission system; without lawful authority, importing, exporting, manufacturing, collecting, obtaining, supplying, trafficking, possessing or using firearms, offensive weapons, ammunition, explosives, articles or things used in the manufacture of explosives or combustible or corrosive substances and biological, chemical, electric, electronic or nuclear weapons, other nuclear explosive devices, nuclear material, radioactive substances, or radiation-emitting devices.

Under section 3(5), “any person who commits an act which constitutes an offence under the nine international treaties on terrorism, ratified by Sri Lanka, also commits the offence of terrorism.” No one would contest that.

The New Zealand “carve-out” is found in sub-section (4): “The fact that a person engages in any protest, advocacy or dissent or engages in any strike, lockout or other industrial action, is not by itself a sufficient basis for inferring that such person (a) commits or attempts, abets, conspires, or prepares to commit the act with the intention or knowledge specified in subsection (1); or (b) is intending to cause or knowingly causes an outcome specified in subsection (2).”

While the Arsekularatne Committee has proposed, including the New Zealand “carve out”, it has ignored a crucial qualification in section 5(2) of that country’s Terrorism Suppression Act, that for an act to be considered a terrorist act, it must be carried out for one or more purposes that are or include advancing “an ideological, political, or religious cause”, with the intention of either intimidating a population or coercing or forcing a government or an international organisation to do or abstain from doing any act.

When the Committee was appointed, the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka opined that any new offence with respect to “terrorism” should contain a specific and narrow definition of terrorism, such as the following: “Any person who by the use of force or violence unlawfully targets the civilian population or a segment of the civilian population with the intent to spread fear among such population or segment thereof in furtherance of a political, ideological, or religious cause commits the offence of terrorism”.

The writer submits that, rather than bringing in the requirement of “a political, ideological, or religious cause”, it would be prudent to qualify proposed section 3(1) by the requirement that only acts that aim at creating “terror” or a “state of intense or overwhelming fear” or are carried out to achieve a goal of an individual or organisation that employs “terror” or a “state of intense or overwhelming fear” to attain its objectives should come under the definition of terrorism. Such a threshold is recognised internationally; no “carve out” is then needed, and the concerns of the Human Rights Commission would also be addressed.

 

by Dr. Jayampathy Wickramaratne
President’s Counsel

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ROCK meets REGGAE 2026

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JAYASRI: From Vienna, Austria

We generally have in our midst the famous JAYASRI twins, Rohitha and Rohan, who are based in Austria but make it a point to entertain their fans in Sri Lanka on a regular basis.

Well, rock and reggae fans get ready for a major happening on 28th February (Oops, a special day where I’m concerned!) as the much-awaited ROCK meets REGGAE event booms into action at the Nelum Pokuna outdoor theatre.

It was seven years ago, in 2019, that the last ROCK meets REGGAE concert was held in Colombo, and then the Covid scene cropped up.

Chitral Somapala with BLACK MAJESTY

This year’s event will feature our rock star Chitral Somapala with the Australian Rock+Metal band BLACK MAJESTY, and the reggae twins Rohitha and Rohan Jayalath with the original JAYASRI – the full band, with seven members from Vienna, Austria.

According to Rohitha, the JAYASRI outfit is enthusiastically looking forward to entertaining music lovers here with their brand of music.

Their playlist for 28th February will consist of the songs they do at festivals in Europe, as well as originals, and also English and Sinhala hits, and selected covers.

Says Rohitha: “We have put up a great team, here in Sri Lanka, to give this event an international setting and maintain high standards, and this will be a great experience for our Sri Lankan music lovers … not only for Rock and Reggae fans. Yes, there will be some opening acts, and many surprises, as well.”

Rohitha, Chitral and Rohan: Big scene at ROCK meets REGGAE

Rohitha and Rohan also conveyed their love and festive blessings to everyone in Sri Lanka, stating “This Christmas was different as our country faced a catastrophic situation and, indeed, it’s a great time to help and share the real love of Jesus Christ by helping the poor, the needy and the homeless people. Let’s RISE UP as a great nation in 2026.”

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