Connect with us

Features

Flying into Kai Tak Airport, Hong Kong

Published

on

Hong Kong was a business centre and a popular intermediate port of call for all western countries for more than 800 years. Ships were anchored there before they ventured up the Pearl River to Canton (now Guangzhou) to conduct their business in commodities such as in tea, porcelain and silk. In return for these Chinese products, the British, to maintain the credit balance, introduced opium, grown in India, and sold it to China. Eventually, when China wanted to prohibit the importation and sale of opium, the British declared war. In 1842, after the end of the so-called first Opium war, China ceded Hong Kong Island to Britain. This was followed after the second Opium War ended. Britain obtained a 99-year lease of the now expanded Kowloon Peninsular and New Territories for a period of 99 years, commencing in 1898.

In 1925, the authorities acquired a strip of flat land for use as a flying club on a property near the Victoria Harbour, which was being reclaimed and developed by a Dr Ho Kai and Mr Au Tak. The airfield was also used by the Royal Air Force (RAF) and then in 1936, the first Imperial Airways aircraft, to land there, was a DH 86A Express (4-engine, biplane) with Cargo and just one passenger. 

During the Japanese occupation in WW 2, the original runway was extended using prisoners of war labour. Cathay Pacific Airways was founded after the war in 1946 with a solitary war surplus DC-3 named ‘Betsy’ with the initial intention of importing wool from Australia. Meanwhile, the population in Hong Kong was growing with refugees fleeing Communist China. To house them all many highrise buildings were constructed. As labour was cheap, luxury and electronic goods began to be also manufactured in abundance in Hong Kong. In 1958, the short runway, at what was now called the Kai Tak aerodrome, was extended to 8,000 ft. and then later extended to accommodate the wide body, big jets, such as the Boeing 747, Douglas DC10 and Lockheed L1011 Tri Stars.

The problem with Kai Tak was that the landing approach to one end of its runway was over the Hong Kong harbour, between high ground in Kowloon and Hong Kong Island, involving a low turn at 550 feet at 2.2 miles. Even for veteran pilots it was exciting, especially in bad weather with high wind and low visibility, to which Hong Kong is often subjected to. Eventually, it became the busiest single-runway, cargo airport in the world, working to its full capacity.

 From the early eighties, Air Lanka, too, had regular flights from Bangkok, Thailand to Hong Kong. During those days someone had built a cement factory in Hong Kong harbour and that used to spew out smoke. As a result, even on days with good weather the visibility was bad. On the hillside of a park called Lok Fu, at the end of the approach of the Instrument Guidance System (IGS), there was a ‘Checker board’ and pilots were expected to fly visually towards it.

Additionally, they had flashing lead in-lights also known as ‘rabbit lights’, mounted in the sea, directing the aircraft on a curved approach path to the landing threshold. Safeguards had to be in place such as two different electrical sources on alternative lights to prevent total failure. Closer to the touch down end, lights with limited beam width (to ensure accurate flying) were mounted on building roof tops as the final approach was low over these buildings. By law, no other flashing lights were allowed in the area. Not even for advertising thereby minimising the chances of pilots making mistakes. The lights were ‘on’ 24/7. There were two settings. High intensity during bad weather and day time and low intensity during night time.

I started flying into Kai Tak as a First Officer in the early eighties in the old Boeing 707 aircraft, which needed a lot of muscle to manually fly that critical approach to the runway, known as ‘Runway 13’. Then we graduated to the Lockheed Tri Stars, which made matters easier with a bigger flight deck with larger windows improving visibility on the final approach descending low level turn in excess of 40 degrees.

Finally, Air Lanka invested in ‘fly by wire’ Airbus A340 aircraft, which needed no muscle at all but the excitement was still the same which necessitated each flight crew member to adjourn to the toilet before the top of descent for a ‘nervous pee’. This happened every time all the time!  One day, soon after Air Lanka acquired the A340, I was required to operate an evening flight to Kai Tak. Due to the A340’s design, our crew had reduced to two (Captain and First Officer) in the flight deck from the previous three (Captain, First Officer and Second Officer/Flight Engineer). It was mainly to reduce the fixed costs of crew salaries. The S/O or F/E had a vital role to play besides operating the panel. He was an extra pair of eyes, when things got busy, vital actions wouldn’t be missed and mistakes not made.

After take-off from Bangkok we were told that a Director of Air Lanka and his wife were on board our flight. This officer and gentleman had a reputation of being a strict disciplinarian, a proud product of the Royal Air Force (RAF) College Cranwell, a former Royal Ceylon Air Force (RCyAF) Officer, and a Flight Instructor of some of my own Flight instructors in the SLAF. Having left the RCyAF, he had flown with the RAF. After retirement from the RAF he joined one of the many civil flying schools at Ratmalana as Chief Flight Instructor.

According to some of his students, although he was a very competent Flight Instructor, he ran a ‘tight ship’ and had a ‘short fuse’. Some students shivered in their boots. A definite ‘no-no’ in modern times. Being a close friend and neighbour of the then ‘Royal Family’ at Horagolla, he was later appointed a Director at Airport and Aviation Ltd Sri Lanka (AASL) and subsequently a Director at Air Lanka. The feedback I received by my own SLAF instructors and relatively junior Air Lanka First Officers who were trained by him, was that he didn’t shake hands and that his social behaviour was highly unpredictable. I had never met him but his reputation went ahead of him. It was an understatement to say that I was a bit apprehensive. I had heard that a few months before, when he was a Director at AASL he had chided one of his ex-colleagues for inviting his (the Director’s) wife to sit in the flight deck for the landing!

Anyway, courtesy demanded that at some point during the flight between Bangkok and Hong Kong, I had to make myself known as the Captain of the flight. What better time than the top of descent into Hong Kong when I would be going to the cabin to fulfil my ‘physiological’ need. After exchanging pleasantries, (I didn’t shake hands though) I invited him to sit in for the approach and landing which was always thrilling. He mentioned that he had flown into Hong Kong before in Bristol Britannia and Vickers VC 10 aircraft and requested that I permit his wife to do so. I was totally taken by surprise, but able to hide my reactions and agreed without hesitation.

The flight was uneventful until the latter part of the descent where we were informed by Hong Kong Control that the expected IGS for Runway 13 was unserviceable and instead they offered us an older, non-precision approach known as a ‘Visual Step Down’. Although neither my First Officer nor I had done such an approach before, we were carrying the necessary maps and charts that would allow us to safely carry out such an exercise. The French, UTA Douglas DC 8 pilots with whom Air Ceylon pilots flew used to say, “If you could read and understand English, then you can fly anywhere”. We could do the same (read and understand). The only problem was that the right turn to the final approach, after Stone Cutters Island, was almost 100 degrees in comparison to the regular IGS Approach which was only 47 degrees to the right. Both turns need to be done manually keeping the runway in sight.

The change of approach also meant a delay to all inbound traffic as adequate traffic separation had to be maintained. Now dusk turned to night. At last we were cleared for our self-briefed approach. Just as we got to the minimum descent altitude (it was a ‘gin’ clear night), we looked out and could see nothing familiar. Upendra, my First Officer, suggested dutifully that we should go-around. Then, it struck me that if I go slightly left I may catch a glimpse of the lead-in lights, which were flashing 24/7 in the harbour. Sure enough the lights were still on. I announced “Lead-in lights in sight” and continued with a sense of relief.

The approach speed of the ‘fly by wire’ A340 aircraft can be ‘selected’ by the pilot or ‘managed’ by the autopilot. On ‘selected’ mode the autopilot maintains any speed selected by the pilot in an airspeed window. On the other hand, the ‘managed speed’ automatically maintains an appropriate speed, depending on the flap setting. For that to happen we had to ‘activate the approach’ programmed through the Flight Management System (FMS) computers beforehand. I kept the autopilot on so that both pilots could search for visual cues to establish where we were. What the autopilot was doing was reflected exactly in our flight instruments. So, the plan was to take the autopilot off and continue to fly manually after visually establishing our position. The standard phraseology was “Autopilot off, speed managed”.

This time when the speed was managed it went up to 250 knots and the engines spooled up! We had forgotten to ‘activate our approach’ in the rush when our workload increased. If a third crew member had been there he would have probably reminded us to programme our FMS Computers well ahead of commencing the approach. Since it was too late to turn our heads in to programme them, I then did the next best thing possible and called for “selected speed and 140 knots” (our target approach speed), which was selected by First Officer Upendra and we proceeded to land. That saved the day and engine power returned to normal, ending up in a good approach and landing in the night. I am sure our lady guest in the Flight Deck was impressed.

Every flight has its own share of ‘Threats and Errors’. By definition Threats are external factors beyond the control of the crew and Errors are mistakes made from within by the crew members themselves either collectively or individually. An error could turn into a threat and vice versa. The task of the crew is to mitigate threats and trap the errors made to make it a safe flight. The International Air Transport Association (IATA) carries out regular Line Orientated Safety Audits (LOSA) on member airlines to ensure that these principles of air safety are met.



Features

The quiet habits behind wealth: Without chasing appearances

Published

on

by Prof. C. A. Saliya

When people picture wealth, they often imagine luxury cars, large homes and expensive holidays. But financial advisers who work with wealthy clients describe a different picture: people who spend carefully, keep cash aside, invest patiently and understand the risks they take.

A recent Research NZ report, based on interviews with financial advisers, found that many wealthy people are discreet about money. They tend to live within their means, maintain emergency savings, take calculated investment risks and pay close attention to tax and financial structures.

For Sri Lankan families facing high living costs, loan repayments and uncertainty about the future, the lesson is not that everyone must become rich overnight. It is that better financial habits can create greater security over time.

Wealth is often quiet

One of the strongest habits associated with long-term financial stability is controlled spending. Many people with high incomes do not automatically increase their lifestyle every time they earn more. Instead, they decide in advance what they can afford, save consistently and avoid treating every salary increase as permission to spend more.

This does not mean denying life’s small pleasures. It means knowing the difference between a need, a want and a purchase made only to impress others.

In Sri Lanka, where social pressure can sometimes encourage visible spending on weddings, vehicles, clothing or celebrations, this is a difficult but useful principle. A household that earns well but spends everything may look prosperous while remaining financially fragile. By contrast, a family that saves even a modest amount regularly can build options: education for children, a medical reserve, a home deposit or capital for a small business.

The Central Bank of Sri Lanka’s financial-literacy survey found that bank-account ownership is high, but financial behaviour remains a concern. Its later roadmap notes that Sri Lankans show satisfactory financial knowledge compared with other countries, while positive everyday financial behaviour still lags behind.

Knowledge, in other words, is not enough. People also need routines.

Keep an emergency fund before taking bigger risks

The wealthy people described in the RNZ article often kept readily available savings for genuine emergencies and avoided using these funds for ordinary spending.

This is perhaps the most practical lesson for an average family. An emergency fund is not money that “does nothing.” It is money that protects a household from making a desperate decision when illness, job loss, vehicle repairs or an unexpected school expense arrives.

For some, the first target may be one month of essential expenses. Over time, it can be increased. The point is not perfection; it is having a buffer.

Without one, families may turn to costly borrowing, informal lenders or repeated credit-card debt. Research on household finance shows that weak credit knowledge, cross-borrowing and reliance on informal debt can increase the risk of over-indebtedness.

Saving alone may not be enough—but investing requires care

Saving is the starting point, not always the final destination. Money kept entirely in cash or low-return accounts can lose purchasing power over time, especially when prices rise. This is why financially secure people often invest—not recklessly, but with an understanding that long-term returns usually require some level of risk.

The key phrase is calculated risk. That means asking basic questions before investing: What is the business model? Is the institution regulated? How easily can I access my money? What happens if the investment falls in value? Am I being promised unusually high returns? Do I understand where my money is going?

A proper investment plan should not depend on rumours, social-media tips or promises of “guaranteed” profits. It should be diversified where possible—spread across suitable assets rather than placed in a single company, property deal or scheme.

For a young worker, investing may begin with a small, regular contribution. For a business owner, it may mean reinvesting carefully in a viable enterprise. For a family nearing retirement, capital protection and predictable income may matter more than aggressive growth. There is no single plan for everyone.

Debt can build wealth or destroy it

The RNZ article also makes a more controversial point: wealthy people sometimes use other people’s money, through debt or outside equity, to build businesses or buy assets. When investment returns exceed borrowing costs, borrowing can magnify gains. But the reverse is equally true: when returns fall or income is interrupted, debt magnifies losses.

This distinction is crucial in Sri Lanka.

Debt used for a productive purpose—such as a well-researched business, equipment that generates income, or an asset with manageable repayments—can be different from debt used for consumption. Borrowing for status purchases, repeated expenses or a lifestyle beyond one’s income can quickly become a burden.

Before taking a loan, families should calculate the monthly repayment under difficult conditions, not only favourable ones. Could the instalment still be paid if income falls? Is the interest rate fixed or variable? Is there enough emergency savings left after the initial payment? These questions may feel cautious, but caution is often what keeps a financial setback from becoming a crisis.

Pay attention to taxes and paperwork

Another quiet habit of financially successful people is paying attention to tax. They understand that the amount earned is not the same as the amount kept. They keep records, claim lawful deductions where applicable and structure businesses or investments properly.

The quiet habits

For self-employed people and small-business owners, this can be especially important. Clear records of income, expenses, invoices and taxes are not merely administrative chores. They help owners understand whether a business is truly profitable and make it easier to obtain formal finance when needed.

This is not an argument for avoiding tax. It is an argument for understanding the rules, meeting obligations and using legitimate options available under the law. When in doubt, taxpayers should seek advice from a qualified professional.

The human side of money

The most important lesson is that wealth is rarely created by one dramatic decision. It is usually built through repeated small choices: saving before spending, avoiding unnecessary debt, learning before investing, and staying patient when others are chasing quick gains.

A literature review of household finance supports this practical view. Studies consistently associate financial literacy, planning, self-control and budgeting with better saving and investment decisions. At the same time, the research warns that financial outcomes are shaped by income, access to formal financial services and economic conditions—not simply by individual discipline.

That matters in Sri Lanka, where many households are working hard simply to meet daily needs. Advice about wealth should never become blame. Not everyone starts with the same income, family support or opportunity.

But the habits that strengthen financial resilience are available in some form to most people: keep records, build a buffer, question easy-money promises, borrow carefully and make decisions based on long-term goals rather than short-term appearances. (See table)

Wealth may not always look glamorous. Often, it looks like an emergency fund nobody sees, an investment made patiently, a loan avoided, and a family that sleeps more peacefully because it has planned ahead.

(Prof. C. A. Saliya, is a charted accountant, academic, researcher and former banker. He is the author of SAMAJA GAVESHAKAYA and Springer Publication DOING SOCIAL RESEARCH. He can be contacted at saliya.ca@gmail.com. The views expressed in this article are his own and do not necessarily represent those of the organisations with which he is affiliated.)

Continue Reading

Features

Tusker Kavantissa’s death exposes Sri Lanka’s wildlife conservation crisis

Published

on

Kavantissa

by Prof. Ranjith Bandara,
Emeritus Professor, University of Colombo

This article examines why community exclusion, excessive bureaucratic control, unequal distribution of conservation benefits, weak institutional accountability, and short-sighted political leadership continue to undermine wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka.

The death of Tusker Kavantissa is more than the loss of one of Sri Lanka’s most remarkable wild elephants. It exposes uncomfortable questions about how we protect our natural heritage, how conservation decisions are made, and why repeated warnings have failed to produce meaningful reforms. His death should compel us to examine not only what happened to one extraordinary animal, but also the deeper weaknesses in our wildlife conservation system.

Tusker Kavantissa, one of Sri Lanka’s most prominent wild tuskers, died on 16 October, 2026, after receiving veterinary treatment for an injury, reportedly caused by gunfire. Although the wound had shown some improvement, his health subsequently deteriorated. The precise cause of death requires confirmation through a proper post-mortem examination. Nevertheless, the circumstances raise serious questions about preventive protection, wildlife management, and institutional preparedness.

The wider picture is equally disturbing. According to recently reported figures, Sri Lanka has lost an average of approximately 402 elephants and 138 people annually, since 2019, due to human–elephant conflict. These figures reflect a continuing national tragedy affecting both wildlife and rural communities.

What Sri Lanka faces today is not merely a wildlife conservation problem. It is also a crisis of environmental governance, shaped by institutional weaknesses, political decisions, and the failure to recognise the economic and social realities of conservation.

Conservation without communities

One of the fundamental weaknesses of our conservation approach is that local communities are often treated as subjects of regulation rather than partners in conservation. They are expected to bear the risks, respect restrictions, and cooperate with government programmes, yet their influence over decisions affecting their lives remains limited.

For rural families living alongside wild elephants, conservation is not an abstract environmental objective. It directly affects their safety, agricultural income, property, and everyday lives.

Farmers frequently possess valuable knowledge about elephant movements, vulnerable locations, seasonal changes, and practical protection measures. Yet conservation interventions are sometimes designed without adequately considering this experience.

When decisions are imposed from above, communities may feel excluded from programmes they are expected to support. This weakens trust, reduces cooperation, and ultimately undermines conservation outcomes.

We must recognise that protecting elephants and protecting farmers are not conflicting objectives. Both are essential. A conservation policy that safeguards wildlife while neglecting human security cannot be considered successful.

The real challenge is to replace conservation imposed on communities with conservation undertaken alongside them. Meaningful participation requires more than consultation meetings. Communities must have a genuine role in planning, implementing, monitoring, and evaluating conservation activities.

Bureaucratic authority versus public accountability

Wildlife conservation requires strong institutions, professional expertise, and effective regulations. However, excessive bureaucratic control can become an obstacle when administrative authority takes precedence over practical outcomes.

Decision-making in Sri Lanka’s conservation system remains heavily dependent on central institutions. Administrative procedures, overlapping responsibilities, and limited coordination can delay responses to urgent problems.

More importantly, excessive centralisation can discourage local innovation and prevent communities from contributing practical solutions.

When administrative authority becomes more important than results, conservation risks becoming an exercise in controlling people rather than protecting nature.

This criticism should not be confused with questioning the dedication of frontline wildlife officers and veterinarians. Many work under difficult conditions with limited resources. The efforts undertaken to save Tusker Kavantissa deserve recognition.

However, individual commitment cannot compensate indefinitely for institutional weaknesses.

We must ask whether our conservation institutions have the capacity to identify risks early, protect vulnerable animals, coordinate emergency responses, and evaluate the effectiveness of their interventions.

Public accountability should, therefore, extend beyond compliance with administrative procedures to measurable conservation outcomes.

Who bears costs, and who receives benefits?

Perhaps the most neglected dimension of wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka is the unequal distribution of its economic costs and benefits.

Wild elephants contribute substantially to tourism, biodiversity, cultural heritage, and the country’s international image. Their conservation generates benefits enjoyed by society as a whole.

Yet the financial and personal costs are concentrated among rural communities living within elephant habitats.

A study published in 2023, involving 300 farming households in southern Sri Lanka, revealed a striking imbalance. Although these households lived near two national parks, none received economic benefits from tourism. Meanwhile, 57 percent had experienced elephant-related crop damage.

The findings raise a fundamental economic question: if the entire country benefits from elephant conservation, why should a relatively small and vulnerable section of society bear a disproportionate share of its costs?

Conservation cannot remain economically sustainable when its benefits are widely enjoyed but its costs are concentrated among those least able to bear them.

A separate study, published in 2024, involving 439 affected farming households, examined the possibility of financing compensation through tourism revenue. It demonstrated the potential for tourism-based financial mechanisms to support human–elephant coexistence.

The policy implications are significant

A proportion of wildlife tourism revenue could be directed towards affected communities through transparent benefit-sharing arrangements. Such measures could support compensation, village protection, local employment, community enterprises, and agricultural improvements.

However, financial compensation alone is insufficient. The 2023 study also indicated that fear of elephants and concerns about crop damage strongly influenced community attitudes. People must feel safe in their homes and farms, not merely receive payment after suffering losses.

Equitable benefit-sharing is, therefore, more than an act of generosity. It is an economic and social requirement for sustainable conservation.

Political decisions and absence of long-term vision

The weaknesses in wildlife conservation cannot be attributed solely to public officials. Political leadership must accept its share of responsibility.

Poor land-use planning, habitat fragmentation, obstruction of elephant movement corridors, and development decisions that inadequately consider environmental consequences have contributed to human–elephant conflict.

Political decisions made for immediate gains can create environmental and economic costs lasting for decades.

Another weakness is the preference for visible, short-term interventions.

Constructing electric fences, relocating elephants, and launching emergency operations can attract considerable publicity. However, such interventions should be evaluated according to their effectiveness, not their visibility.

Political leadership should be judged not by the number of conservation programmes announced, but by the lives protected, conflicts prevented, and long-term improvements achieved.

There is also a serious problem of policy continuity. Conservation cannot be governed according to electoral cycles or changing political priorities.

Elephant habitats, migration patterns, and ecological processes do not change with governments. Successful conservation, therefore, requires consistent national commitments extending beyond individual political administrations.

Without such continuity, public investment may be wasted while the underlying problems remain unresolved.

Problem is not always a lack of policy

Sri Lanka’s conservation crisis cannot be explained simply by a shortage of scientific knowledge or policy recommendations.

In many instances, the greater challenge lies in translating available knowledge into coordinated, adequately funded, and politically supported action.

The National Action Plan for the Mitigation of Human–Elephant Conflict, prepared in 2020, proposed a science-based approach that emphasised community participation, protection of villages and agricultural land, and more effective conflict-management strategies.

Yet an important question remains: how much of this plan has been implemented successfully?

Have implementation difficulties arisen from inadequate resources, weak institutional coordination, administrative resistance, or insufficient political commitment?

An independent assessment of the plan’s implementation would help identify these obstacles and establish clear responsibilities.

We must also recognise that a substantial proportion of Sri Lanka’s wild elephants live outside protected areas. Attempting to confine all elephants within national parks and forest reserves is, therefore, neither realistic nor sustainable.

Effective conservation requires land-use policies informed by elephant ecology, settlement patterns, agricultural needs, and the practical realities of human–wildlife coexistence.

A sound policy that remains largely unimplemented offers little protection to either elephants or people.

Towards more responsible conservation system

Sri Lanka needs a fundamental change in how wildlife conservation is governed.

Four priorities deserve immediate attention.

First, local communities must become genuine partners in conservation management, with meaningful responsibilities and decision-making opportunities.

Second, conservation benefits must be distributed more fairly. Wildlife tourism should contribute directly to protecting the livelihoods and safety of communities that bear conservation costs.

Third, existing national conservation plans should be independently reviewed to identify implementation gaps and establish a realistic timetable for corrective action.

Fourth, conservation institutions must become more accountable for measurable outcomes, including reductions in human deaths, elephant mortality, crop losses, and property damage.

These reforms require cooperation among wildlife, forestry, agriculture, land, irrigation, and local government institutions.

They also demand political leadership willing to prioritise long-term results over short-term publicity.

For exceptional animals, such as Tusker Kavantissa, improved risk monitoring, preventive protection, and timely veterinary responses are particularly important. However, conservation should not be limited to protecting a few well-known animals.

Every wild elephant has ecological value, just as every person living alongside elephants has an equal right to safety.

The objective must be a system that protects both.

Lesson tusker Kavantissa leaves behind

The death of Tusker Kavantissa should not become another moment of national sorrow that gradually fades from public memory. It should mark a turning point in how Sri Lanka approaches wildlife conservation.

A proper investigation into his death is essential. Equally important is an honest examination of the conservation system within which such tragedies continue to occur.

The real challenge is not choosing between people and elephants. It is creating a system in which both can coexist safely, and where the responsibilities, costs, and benefits of conservation are shared fairly.

This requires more than scientific expertise and stronger regulations. It demands accountable institutions, meaningful community participation, economic fairness, and political leadership guided by a clear long-term vision.

Our greatest failure would not be the loss of Tusker Kavantissa alone. It would be allowing the same weaknesses in our conservation system to claim more lives while we continue to avoid the reforms that could prevent them.

Continue Reading

Features

Equality before the Law as foundation of Sri Lanka’s recovery

Published

on

Gnanasara Thera brought to court, dressed in lay attire

by Jehan Perera

The government appears set to overcome the first major challenge to one of its foundational principles. It has faced down demands from sections of the Buddhist clergy and opposition parties to release Ven. Galagodaatte Gnanasara from his prison sentence for contempt of court.

Ven Gnanasara is best known as the general secretary of the Bodu Bala Sena, a nationalist Sinhala grouping. The government seemed unfazed by a protest march organised by Buddhist monks and the opposition parties and its supporters organised an even bigger march to support the government’s position. It is notable that the general population did not get involved in either march in any substantial number. The issue has now become a test of whether the government will uphold its commitment to apply the law equally, irrespective of a person’s position or status, even when doing so brings it into conflict with a powerful constituency.

The case has a specific legal history. Ven. Gnanasara was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment by the Court of Appeal in 2018 for contempt of court in a case involving former military personnel where he disrupted the proceedings. The Supreme Court rejected his appeal in 2018. Former President Maithripala Sirisena subsequently granted him a presidential pardon in 2019. Last month, the Supreme Court invalidated that pardon. The initial demand by Buddhist monks and their lay supporters was that Ven. Gnanasara should be permitted to wear his Buddhist robes when appearing in public before the courts. The government has indicated its willingness to examine the procedures governing the treatment of Buddhist monks in prison, in consultation with the relevant religious authorities. However, the initial demand has now been escalated into a demand for a presidential pardon.

One of the central promises of the National People’s Power (NPP) during its election campaign two years ago was to apply the law equally to all. This commitment has shaped the government’s approach to allegations of corruption and criminality involving individuals who previously wielded political power. The NPP government was swept into power on a wave of antipathy towards those in previous governments who were perceived to have abused their positions for private gain. The economic collapse Sri Lanka experienced in 2022, and the hardships endured across society, remain vivid in the public memory. The past two years have seen the government pursuing those accused of corruption and other offences. Several high-ranking members of previous governments have faced arrest and legal proceedings and been sentenced to jail.

Religious Concerns

The ability of opposition parties to mobilise widespread resistance against proceedings involving their leaders has been limited, as much of the general population continues to favour accountability for past financial crimes. However, the case of Ven. Gnanasara is different. It does not concern allegations of financial corruption, but the relationship between religious authority, the courts and the law of the land. This is where the distinction between respecting religious traditions and upholding the law becomes crucial. There is a sense among sections of the general population that Buddhist monks should not be treated on a par with others and that requiring Ven. Gnanasara to appear in court without his robes was unjust and contrary to the national ethos. Such sentiments reflect the special place Buddhism occupies in Sri Lanka’s history and society. Sinhala Buddhist nationalism has been a potent political force throughout the country’s history, drawing on a heritage that extends back more than two millennia. The question is whether respect for Buddhism needs to also entail the exemption of individual monks from the ordinary requirements of the law and thereby treat them differently.

The challenge would be to accommodate legitimate religious concerns through rational and lawful procedures without allowing religious status to become a source of legal privilege. The government has been amenable to addressing the issue of monastic robes, but has so far resisted the demand to release Ven. Gnanasara through a new pardon. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and government members have made it clear that the government would not bend the law to accommodate any individual. They have taken the position that any shortcomings in existing rules should be addressed by changing the rules through proper procedures, rather than by making an exception for a particular individual. If the government holds its position, it will demonstrate that its commitment to the rule of law extends even to constituencies that have historically enjoyed considerable political influence.

This is important not only for the country’s democratic institutions but also for its economic future. Sri Lanka is seeking to recover from its economic collapse and establish the foundations for sustained growth. The International Monetary Fund’s analysis of Sri Lanka’s governance weaknesses has repeatedly emphasised the economic costs of corruption and institutional deficiencies. Its 2024 analysis of governance and growth concluded that comprehensive and coherent reforms could bring significant macroeconomic benefits. The IMF’s 2025 assessment also highlighted the importance of sustained governance reforms in unlocking the country’s growth potential. Investors, both domestic and foreign, need confidence that public institutions function according to predictable rules, that contracts and property rights are protected, and that political connections or social status will not determine how the law is applied.

Sensitive Issue

Sri Lanka has long sought the leap towards prosperity that has proved elusive under successive governments. Economic reform alone will not achieve it. The connection between the rule of law and economic prosperity is direct. Businesses are more likely to invest when they can expect disputes to be resolved fairly, public resources to be managed transparently and regulatory decisions to be made on rational grounds. No country can achieve a durable economic take-off if its institutions are perceived to operate according to political favour, inherited privilege or communal pressure. Sri Lanka cannot afford to return to a political culture in which powerful interests are shielded from accountability while ordinary citizens bear the costs.

Changing a political culture that has evolved over the decades if not centuries is a difficult undertaking, particularly in a country where political leaders have long relied on religious and communal identities to consolidate their support. It requires not only firmness but also sensitivity, dialogue and a willingness to reform laws and institutions where genuine deficiencies exist. The present controversy offers an opportunity to demonstrate that these objectives need not be in conflict. The government can respect the Buddhist clergy’s concerns about the treatment of monks in prison while refusing to grant an individual an exemption from a judicial sentence. It can recognise the importance of Buddhism to the country while maintaining that no religious or political authority stands above the law.

The question is whether national traditions and ethos are interpreted in ways that strengthen justice, responsibility and social harmony, or invoked to defend privileges that undermine them. The country needs a transformation in public expectations from privilege to accountability, from communal claims to equal citizenship, and from personal discretion to institutions governed by law.

The government’s handling of the case involving Ven. Gnanasara is therefore about more than one monk or one sentence. This particular case will determine whether the government can build a system in which no government, religious authority or politically influential individuals can place themselves beyond the law. A just society must be able to honour both its traditions and its commitment to equality before the law.

Continue Reading

Trending