Features
In conversation with Danu Innasithamby: A journey of resilience, family, and creativity
In a world that often demands constant reinvention, Danu Innasithamby has learned to hold fast to the values that matter most—resilience, family, and an unwavering commitment to creativity. In this heartfelt conversation, The Island sits down with Danu to trace a life shaped by the quiet courage of a mother who taught them that strength doesn’t always need to roar.
From the shadows of war-torn Jaffna to the bustling corridors of Colombo’s schools, Danu reflects on the journey of finding one’s voice in a world that didn’t always understand it. They speak candidly about the ways their mother’s love and sacrifices continue to anchor them—lessons in grace and humility that have become the foundation for a life in storytelling and media.
As they share memories of childhood, early days in radio, and the evolution of identity as a queer person, Danu offers a moving portrait of what it means to be seen, to be true to oneself, and to carry forward the strength of those who came before.
You dedicated your memoir to your late mother on her birth anniversary—what inspired you to choose that moment for the book launch
Mummy was always our strength.
Akka and I were so attached to her — because deep down, it was always just the three of us, trying to find our way in this world.
She may not have been powerful, or influential, or known beyond our little circle. But to us, she was everything. A silent fighter. A quiet force. She did things I don’t think anyone else could do — and she did it all with the kind of grace that only she had.
Every child sees their mum as special. But Mummy… she truly was. She gave up her happiness, her comfort, even her dreams, so that we could live ours. Whether it was making sure we got the biggest portion of food, or just being a warm shoulder on the hardest days, she gave and gave and gave — always with a smile, even when there was nothing to smile about.
People often look to the sky to find heaven. But sometimes, heaven is a person. For us, that was Mummy.
That’s why this book is for her.
If she were here, I’d still have done the same.
You mentioned your mother’s strength, silence, and love shaped every chapter. Could you share a particular memory that captures her influence on you during your childhood?
Where do I even begin? There are so many moments, but if I had to choose just one thing—it’s how much of a pillar Dara was to her. She leaned on him for everything. She was almost childlike in some ways, relying on his strength and decisions. But when Dara was no more, something in Mummy changed.
She became brave.
She stepped up and did things that, even now, leave me in awe. From managing the most basic day-to-day tasks—paying bills, balancing whatever little money we had, making sure we were fed, finding ways to keep us in school—she did it all. She became our strength, our guardian, our safe place.
I truly believe women have this remarkable, almost otherworldly ability to transform into warriors when they need to. And in that moment, when the world could’ve broken her, Mummy became everything. Everything we needed.
How did your mother support you during the most turbulent moments of your early life in Jaffna?
She was calm in every storm. She didn’t have many answers, but she always made sure we had a warm meal, a warm bed, and a warm smile. In those days, that was enough. That was everything.
What values or lessons from your mother continue to guide you in your life today, especially in the media world?
One of the most profound things Mummy ever told me wasn’t a long sermon—it was something simple she lived by. Her bedtime prayer was always short, but she left me with this:
“Before you sleep, ask yourself—have you intentionally hurt someone? If not, rest. It’s beyond you now. But if you have, ask for forgiveness. Apologise. Make peace before you close your eyes.”
That one line shaped how I carry myself in the world. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being accountable. And that… is one of the greatest gifts she ever gave me.
Was your mother aware of your dreams in storytelling and media before her passing? If so, what were her thoughts?
I count myself among the lucky ones—because Mummy got to see me on screen. She was beaming with pride even back when I was just a voice in the night, doing the graveyard shift on radio. That’s how we all started—midnight hours, training wheels. But Mummy? She’d stay up all night, just to make sure I didn’t fall asleep on the job. Only mothers can love like that—quiet, patient, unwavering.
She watched every show I did. Every single one. Even the Tamil ones, where half the time I was bluffing through my lines! And I still remember—just a day before she passed—she watched one of those episodes. She wasn’t well. Those days were hard. But there she was… watching, listening, holding space.
At the time, I had just signed on to my first film. I’d even released a Sinhala track that featured in the movie. One of the last things she asked to hear was that song. She wanted to listen. She always wanted to be part of it all—every step, every stumble, every celebration.
I know she’s still around. Not just in spirit—but in the whisper of instinct, the calm in a storm, the little voice that says, “You’ve got this.”
She never knew I’d write a book. Honestly, neither did I. But I think she sees it all now. And somehow, I feel like she’s reading every word over my shoulder—smiling that knowing smile only she had.
Can you describe your school life in Jaffna and how it was shaped by the conflict around you?
I didn’t stay in school in Jaffna for long—only until Grade 3. But those few years left a deep imprint. School life there was intense, shaped by the reality of war. Teachers were strict, and there was no room for excuses. If there was a curfew, school was closed. If a bomb went off, school was closed. And if a bomb went off during school—you ran and hid. Yet, even amid the chaos, discipline and deadlines were non-negotiable. Our teachers did everything they could with what they had. That resilience stayed with me.
When we moved to Colombo, school life changed—but it wasn’t easier. I joined St. Peter’s College, a respected school, but I struggled to fit in. Many of the kids came from more financially comfortable homes. Mummy did everything to keep up, but it was hard. I stood out, not in the ways a child hopes to. There were names, there were jokes—kids will be kids. I don’t blame anyone today because I know now that we’re all just trying to understand the world at that age. But yes, it hurt. At that time, it stung deeply. Still, I learned. I grew. And I’m grateful. Because all of that—Jaffna, Colombo, the silence, the noise—shaped the person I am today. And I wouldn’t trade that journey for anything.
What was the transition like when you moved from Jaffna to Colombo in terms of education and fitting in?
It wasn’t an easy transition. Suddenly, I was seeing things I’d never seen in my life—electricity that stayed on, chilled drinks, and shops where you could buy whatever you liked if you had the money. Only, I didn’t have the money.
Fitting in was hard. But one thing I’ve always held onto is honesty. I never lied about what I didn’t have. No TV at home? I said it. No beds? That was our truth. Never had KFC? I was fine to admit it. I found it easier to speak the truth than to pretend. Pretending only made the gap feel bigger.
I still remember the first time I accidentally ended up in a shopping mall. A friend and I were walking after school working on a project, and he asked, “Shall we grab a drink here?” I was flustered. Flabbergasted. I didn’t even know how to behave in that world. All I could do was ask him, “How many bus halts from here to my house?”
It felt like a different planet. But I think I was exposed to it all at the right age—old enough to be humbled, young enough to absorb it. And with time, I learned to navigate both worlds.
Were there teachers or school moments that particularly encouraged your creative or storytelling instincts?
The first is Miss Mel, my English Literature teacher. Ironically, she should’ve been the one to absolutely hate me—I spelt everything wrong, confused syntax with drama, and turned every essay into a theatrical production. But she didn’t. Instead, she cheered me on. She loved seeing me on stage and encouraged me to take part in Shakespeare drama competitions, even if I made up half the lines. Miss Mel was a kind soul with an even kinder heart. She passed away last year, but her belief in me still echoes every time I hold a mic or step onto a stage. She was truly remarkable.
Then there’s my choir teacher, Priyanthi. She taught me that voice is not just sound—it’s soul. She gave me the tools to pronounce, project, and most importantly, perform with presence. Her guidance built the foundation for the public speaking I do today.I also must mention Jehan Bastians and Ned. The first time I got on stage with them, I was green, awkward, and borderline dramatic—but they taught me everything from how to stand still (which was a challenge!) to how to deliver lines with meaning.
Every one of them—Miss Mel, Priyanthi, Jehan, and Ned—were instrumental in making me who I am today. They didn’t just teach me subjects. They taught me confidence. They gave me tools that I carry in my heart and use every single day. For that, I’m endlessly grateful.
How did your identity as a queer youth affect your school experience, both in Jaffna and Colombo?
To be honest, growing up in Jaffna, I was too young to even process any of it. And when I was in school, I don’t think I ever really let my emotions go there. Maybe I just didn’t have the language or the space in my mind—I was often lost in my own thoughts.All these terms we hear today—gay, queer, the whole spectrum—I didn’t know any of it back then. I had no frame of reference. I was actually very late to everything—very late. I didn’t even hold someone’s hand until I was in my mid-twenties.
So, for me, discovering who I was, accepting it, and allowing myself to be that person took a long time. My quiet demeanour, maybe even the way I carried myself, yes—it made me a target. I was bullied. Teased. You know, the usual things they do in school. But none of that gave me clarity about my sexuality. If anything, it left me even more confused.
Looking back now, I realise how long it took for me to find the words… and the courage.
Looking back, is there a specific school memory that you feel foreshadowed the path you eventually took in media and storytelling?
I wouldn’t say it all started in school—it was the stage that truly felt like home. While the classroom was where I learned, the stage was where I lived. That feeling of performing, of stepping into a spotlight and expressing something deeper—that’s what shaped me. I didn’t choose media; it somehow chose me. I never mapped it out, never imagined I’d be in it this long. I simply followed the joy of connecting with people, of sharing stories, of giving a voice to things that matter.
What keeps me going is that every single day still feels like my first. That excitement, that nervous energy, that sense of purpose—it’s all still there. I’m deeply grateful for this journey, and for the chance to keep telling stories that touch lives.
by Ifham Nizam
Features
The Paradox of Coercion: US strategy and the global re-emergence of Iran
(A sequel to the two-part article, War with Iran and unravelling of the global order, published in The Island on April 8 and 9.)
The unfolding developments in the US-Israeli coordinated military attack against Iran reveal a striking paradox at contemporary geopolitics: efforts to weaken a state through coercion may, under certain conditions, contribute to its structural elevation within the international system. What appears as short-term tactical success can generate long-term strategic consequences that are neither anticipated nor easily reversible. In this context, the policies associated with Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, marked by unilateralism and the willingness to use force, risk producing precisely such an unintended outcome. Rather than marginalising Iran, their actions may be accelerating its re-emergence, not merely as a regional actor in the Middle East, but as a consequential player in the global geopolitics and the wider architecture of international supply chains of energy economy.
Iran not merely a state
Iran is not merely a state, but a civilisation with a distinctive political trajectory. At the heart of the present transformation lies its asymmetric strategy, rooted in the strategic exploitation of geography. Few states possess the capacity to shape the global system through geography alone. Iran’s proximity to the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow maritime passage through which a substantial share of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas flows, endows it with a latent structural power that transcends conventional measures of national capability.
In periods of stability, this position translates into economic opportunity; in moments of crisis, it becomes a lever of systemic disruption. Recent tensions have demonstrated that even limited instability in this corridor can reverberate across global markets, triggering sharp increases in energy prices, disrupting supply chains, and amplifying inflationary pressures worldwide. Should Iran consolidate its capacity to influence or control this chokepoint, whether through military deterrence, asymmetric instruments, or diplomatic maneuvering, it would shift from being a participant in global energy markets to a pivotal arbiter of their functioning.
Energy-embedded global economy
The contemporary global economy is not merely energy-dependent; it is deeply energy-embedded. Hydrocarbons underpin not only transportation and electricity generation but also the production of petrochemicals, fertilisers, and a wide range of industrial inputs essential to modern manufacturing and food systems. Disruptions linked to Iran have already illustrated how shocks in the energy sector cascade through interconnected supply chains, affecting everything from agricultural output to high-technology industries. In this sense, Iran’s leverage is no longer confined to the traditional realm of resource geopolitics. It increasingly operates within a networked global system in which control over a single critical node can generate disproportionate influence across multiple sectors. This form of power, diffuse, indirect, and systemic, marks a departure from the more linear dynamics of twentieth-century oil politics.
The implications of such a shift are profound for the structure of the international order. For decades, the global system has been underpinned by a set of institutions, norms, and economic arrangements often described as the so-called liberal international order. Sanctions, financial controls, and diplomatic isolation have been key instruments through which dominant powers have sought to discipline states that challenge this order. However, Iran’s prolonged exposure to sanctions has compelled it to develop adaptive strategies: alternative trade networks, informal financial channels, and closer ties with non-Western partners. A crisis-induced re-entry into global markets would therefore not signify reintegration into the existing order, but rather the expansion of parallel systems that operate alongside, and sometimes in opposition to, it. In this context, Iran’s rise would contribute to the gradual fragmentation of the global economy, accelerating trends toward decoupling, regionalization, and the erosion of established institutional authority.
Decline of global order based on US hegemony
This process of fragmentation is closely linked to declining global order based on U.S. hegemony. A more globally consequential Iran would inevitably become a focal point in the strategic player in emerging multipolar world. For China, whose economic growth remains heavily dependent on secure energy supplies, deeper engagement with Iran would serve both economic and geopolitical objectives, reinforcing its presence in the broader Middle East and insulating it from vulnerabilities associated with maritime chokepoints. Russia, already positioned as a major energy exporter and a challenger to Western dominance, may find in Iran a complementary partner in reshaping global energy markets and contesting sanctions regimes. Meanwhile, countries across the Global South, including major importers such as India, would face a more complex strategic environment, characterized by heightened exposure to supply disruptions and increased pressure to navigate between competing power centers. In this emerging landscape, Iran would function less as an isolated actor and more as a pivotal node within a reconfigured network of global alignments.
Dynamics enhancing Iran’s strategic importance
Paradoxically, the very dynamics that enhance Iran’s strategic importance may also accelerate efforts to reduce dependence on the conditions that enable its influence. Recurrent energy shocks tend to catalyze policy responses aimed at diversification and resilience. States are likely to expand strategic reserves, invest in alternative supply routes, and accelerate transitions toward renewable energy and nuclear power. Over the longer term, such measures could diminish the centrality of fossil fuel chokepoints, thereby constraining Iran’s leverage. However, this transition will be uneven and contested. Advanced economies may possess the resources to adapt more rapidly, while developing countries remain structurally dependent on affordable hydrocarbons. In the interim, the global system may experience a prolonged period in which dependence on Iranian-linked energy flows coexists with attempts to transcend it—a duality that adds further complexity to the evolving geopolitical landscape.
Beyond material considerations, Iran’s potential re-emergence also signals a deeper transformation of the existing global order. Traditional metrics—military strength, economic size, technological capacity—remain somewhat important, but they are increasingly complemented by the ability to influence critical nodes within global networks. The capacity to disrupt, delay, or redirect flows of energy, goods, and capital can generate strategic effects that rival, or even surpass, those achieved through direct military confrontation. In this sense, Iran exemplifies a broader shift from territorial geopolitics to what might be termed network geopolitics. Control over chokepoints, supply chains, and infrastructural linkages become a central determinant of influence, enabling states with relatively limited ‘conventional’ capabilities to exert outsized impact on the international system.
Iran’s trajectory may be understood as a transition through several distinct phases: from a regional challenger seeking to assert influence within the Middle East, to a strategic disruptor capable of unsettling global markets, and ultimately to a systemic actor whose decisions carry worldwide consequences. This evolution is neither inevitable nor linear; it depends on a complex interplay of domestic resilience, external pressures, and the responses of other global actors. Nevertheless, the possibility itself underscores the unintended consequences of policies that prioritize short-term coercion over long-term strategic foresight.
Transition shaped by paradoxes
In historical perspective, moments of systemic transition are often shaped by such paradoxes. Actions taken to preserve an existing order can, under certain conditions, accelerate its transformation. The current crisis involving Iran may represent one such moment. By elevating the strategic significance of energy chokepoints, exposing the vulnerabilities of interconnected supply chains, and encouraging the development of alternative economic networks, it contributes to a broader reconfiguration of global power. In this emerging context, Iran’s re-emergence as a global actor would not simply reflect its own capabilities or ambitions; it would also embody the structural shifts reshaping the international system itself. What began as an effort to constrain Iran may ultimately facilitate its transformation into a decisive player in the global energy economy and supply chain architecture. The implications of this shift extend far beyond the Middle East, touching upon the stability of markets, the cohesion of international institutions, and the evolving nature of power in the twenty-first century.
The war with Iran is best understood not as a discrete regional conflict, but as a structural moment in the transformation of the international system. It reveals a growing disjuncture between the continued reliance on coercive statecraft and the realities of an interdependent global order in which power increasingly derives from control over critical economic and infrastructural nodes. Rather than achieving strategic containment, the conflict has underscored the capacity of a relatively constrained actor to generate systemic effects through geoeconomic leverage. In doing so, it highlights a broader shift from military-centric conceptions of power toward forms of influence embedded in networks of energy, trade, and supply chains.
This is not merely a redistribution of power, but a redefinition of how power operates. At the systemic level, the war accelerates the erosion of the post-Cold War order, reinforcing tendencies toward fragmentation, parallel economic arrangements, and multipolar competition. Iran’s potential re-emergence as a global actor should therefore be seen less as an isolated outcome than as a manifestation of these deeper structural changes. In this sense, the strategic significance of the war lies in its unintended consequences: it exposes the limits of coercive hegemony while simultaneously amplifying the importance of those actors positioned to exploit the vulnerabilities of an interconnected world.
by Gamini Keerawella ✍️
Features
The dawn of smart help for little ones
How Artificial Intelligence is breaking barriers in Autism Diagnosis and Care
For any parent, the early years are a most valuable countdown of “firsts” of his or her precious child: the first step, the first clear word, the first beautiful smile, and quite a few other firsts as well. Yet for all that, for some families, that joy is overshadowed by a growing, quiet, but disturbing intuition that something is even a little bit different. Perhaps a child is not responding to his or her name, or the little one seems to be more interested in the spinning wheels of a toy than a game of peek-a-boo, or even avoids normal social responses.
In many countries, especially in the developing world, the road from that first “gut feeling” that there is something wrong, to a formal diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is often a long and exhausting journey. While doctors can often identify autism in children as young as 12 to 18 months, the average age of diagnosis in our communities still hovers around four years. In these critical years, when a child’s brain is most like a machine ready to learn and adapt, time is of the essence and is the most valuable resource a family has.
Today, a new “algorithmic dawn” is offering a shortcut to really cut that delay. Artificial Intelligence (AI), the very same smart technology that helps us navigate traffic, suggest a new song, or help people with ChatGPT, is moving out of the lab and into the children’s nursery. By acting as a digital “magnifying glass”, specifically designed AI tools can now spot subtle patterns in a child’s gaze, some little quirks in the rhythm of their babbling, or the way they move, often much faster than the human eye can. Then the machine can issue a warning signal and indicate that further action and a proper evaluation are necessary. This is most certainly not about replacing the brain, the heart and the expertise of a paediatrician; it is about providing “Smart Help” that can be accessed from a smartphone in a family living room. For millions of “little ones on the spectrum”, most notably in the developing world, this technology is turning a journey once defined by waiting, uncertainty and even tears, into one of proactive care and even brighter horizons. The time gained is most certainly a very valuable window of opportunity.
What is the “Spectrum,” and Why Does Time Matter?
Autism is described as a “spectrum” because it affects many children somewhat differently and to varying degrees. Some children may have advanced technical skills but struggle to hold a conversation; others may be non-verbal or have intense sensory sensitivities. It can be very mild or very severe, and perhaps everywhere in between as well.
The common thread is that the brain develops differently in these affected children. This is why Early Intervention is the gold-standard goal. During the toddler years, a child’s brain is incredibly “plastic”, meaning that it is a highly adaptable and ready to learn type of organ. Starting therapy and management strategies during this valuable period of opportunity can fundamentally change a child’s future life path.
The problem, to a certain extent, is that traditional diagnosis of ASD is a slow, manual process. It requires intensively trained experts to watch a child play for hours and fill out complex checklists. In many countries, including Sri Lanka, where there is a massive shortage of these highly qualified specialists, the waiting list for a consultation alone can take months or even years. These doyens are rather thin on the ground and even when available, are heavily overworked.
Enter the AI Revolution: Seeing the Unseen
AI certainly does NOT replace doctors, but it acts like a high-powered magnifying glass. By using “Machine Learning”, computers can analyse massive amounts of data to find tiny patterns that the human eye might miss. Here is how it is changing the game:
1. Tracking Gaze and Smiles
One of the earliest signs of autism is how a child looks at the world. AI “Computer Vision” can analyse a simple video of a child playing. It can track exactly where the child is looking. Does the child look at a person’s eyes when they speak, or are they drawn to the spinning wheels of a toy in the corner? AI can quantify these “social attention” patterns in seconds and add them to a cache of things that ring warning bells.
2. The Sound of a Voice
Did you know that the “music” of a child’s speech can hold clues? AI can listen to the pitch and rhythm (called prosody) of a child’s voice. Children on the spectrum sometimes have a “flat” or monotonic way of speaking. AI algorithms can measure these vocal biomarkers with incredible precision, helping to flag concerns long before a child is old enough for a full conversation.
3. Movement and Play
Repetitive behaviour, like hand-flapping or rocking, are core traits of ASD. Sensors in smartphones or simple video analysis can now categorise these movements objectively. Instead of a parent trying to describe how often a behaviour happens, the application or ‘app’ provides a clear, data-driven report for the doctor.
Innovation at Home: India’s Digital Solutions
The most exciting part of this technology is that it does not require a million-dollar lab. In India, where smartphone use is booming, several “homegrown” apps are bringing specialist-level screening to rural and urban homes alike.
Apps like CogniAble, which give parents a step-by-step intervention plan based on the child’s specific needs, or START, a tablet-based tool used by local health workers in areas like Delhi slums to spot risks via simple games, or LEEZA.APP, which offers free AI screening to remove the “money barrier” that keeps many families from seeking help, or AutismBASICS, which provides thousands of activities and a milestone tracker to help parents manage daily therapy at home, are just a few of the programs in use at present. These tools are “democratising” healthcare. A mother in a remote village with a basic smartphone can now access the same level of screening logic that was once only available in a major city hospital.
Beyond the Diagnosis: A Robot Tutor?
The role of AI does not stop once a diagnosis is made. It is also becoming a tireless “co-therapist.”
For many children with autism, the human world can be unpredictable and overwhelming. AI-powered “Social Robots” or interactive apps provide a safe, predictable environment. These “Robo-Therapists” do not get tired, they do not get frustrated, and they can repeat a social lesson even 100 times until the child feels comfortable.
Furthermore, for children who are nonverbal, AI-powered communication apps serve as a “voice”. These apps use smart technology to predict what a child wants to say, allowing and facilitating them to express their needs and feelings to their parents, even for the very first time.
The Human Element: Proceed with Care
As bright as this dawn is, experts warn that we must move forward carefully and most intelligently.
= Privacy: Because these apps collect sensitive videos and data about children, keeping that information secure is a top priority.
= Cultural Differences: An AI trained on children in the US or Europe might not perfectly understand a child in Sri Lanka. We need “diverse local data” to ensure the algorithms understand our local languages, gestures, and social norms. Many of these programs need to be home-grown or baked at home in Sri Lanka.
= The Human Touch: Most importantly, we need to always remember that AI is a tool, not a replacement. A computer can spot a pattern, but it cannot give a hug, provide emotional support to a struggling parent, or celebrate a breakthrough with the same joy as a human therapist.
A Brighter Future
We are moving toward a world where “waiting and seeing” is no longer, and quite definitely, not the only option for parents. By combining the heart of a parent and the expertise of a doctor with the speed of an algorithm, we can ensure that no child is left behind because of where they live or how much money they have.
The “Algorithmic Dawn” is not just about code and data. It is about giving every child the best possible start in life. It is the main principle on which Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine, all those centuries ago, based all his postulations on how physicians should work.
The “Red Flag” Checklist: 18 to 24 Months
The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends screening all children at 18 and 24 months. If you notice several of these signs, it is time to use an AI screening app or consult your paediatrician.
Communication and Social Cues
= The Name Test: Does your child consistently fail to turn around or look at you when you call his or her name?
= The Pointing Test: By 18 months, most toddlers point at things they want (like a biscuit) or things they find interesting (like a dog). Is your child using your hand as a “tool” to get things instead of pointing?
= The Eye Contact Test: Does your child avoid looking at your face during social interactions or during play or when being fed?
= The Shared Smile: Does your child rarely smile back when you smile at him or her?
Behaviour and Play
= The Toy Test: Does your child play with toys in “unusual” ways? (e.g., instead of rolling a car, they spend 20 minutes just spinning one wheel or lining them up in a perfect, rigid line).
= The Routine Rule: Do they have an extreme “meltdown” over tiny changes, like taking a different route to the park or using a different coloured cup?
= Repetitive Motions: Do you notice frequent hand-flapping, rocking, or spinning in circles, especially when they are excited or upset?
The “Golden Rule” of Regression
Finally, an extremely important rule for concerned parents to follow.
If your little one had words (like “Mama” or “Dada” or “Amma” or “Thaththa” or Thaii/Amma or Appa) or social skills (like waving “Bye-Bye”) and a beautiful social smile etc, and then SUDDENLY STOPS USING THEM, that could be a most significant red flag. In such situations, the standard advice would be: Please consult a doctor immediately.
by Dr B. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics),
MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK),
FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
Features
Governance, growth and our regional moment:Why Sri Lanka must choose wisely
The recent disclosure of a substantial internal fraud at National Development Bank has understandably unsettled the financial community. What began as a relatively contained incident has since been revised upwards, revealing a scheme that operated over an extended period within a specific operational area. To their credit, both the bank and the Central Bank of Sri Lanka responded with speed. Staff were suspended, arrests followed, an independent forensic review was commissioned, and clear assurances were given that customer funds remained secure. The institution’s capital and liquidity positions continue to meet regulatory requirements, and day to day operations have not been disrupted.
Yet it would be a mistake to view this as an isolated operational error at a single respected institution. When a fraud of this magnitude, equivalent to more than a year’s profit for the bank, emerges within one of our most established listed companies, the implications extend well beyond the banking sector. It prompts a necessary and uncomfortable question. Are we truly strengthening the foundations of our economy so that every part of our society can operate with the integrity and confidence that sustainable progress demands?
Banking sits at the heart of any modern economy. It channels savings into investment, supports enterprise, and underpins household security. When even a leading institution reveals weaknesses in internal controls, risk oversight or governance culture, the signal to international observers is difficult to ignore. It suggests that the financial system upon which growth depends may not yet possess the resilience we aspire to project. If institutions that have undergone significant reform since 2022 can still experience such failures, what assurance can investors reasonably expect in other sectors of our economy? At a time when Sri Lanka needs to demonstrate strength and reliability, perceptions of fragility carry a heavy cost.
This matters profoundly because a genuine window of opportunity is now opening. Geopolitical shifts in the Middle East and beyond are prompting global investors and entrepreneurs to seek stable, well governed destinations for capital and talent. Sri Lanka possesses distinct advantages. Our geographical position offers natural connectivity. We have invested in critical infrastructure, including two major ports, international airports and strategic energy reserves. In an era where businesses prioritise rule of law, institutional predictability and sound fundamentals, our potential alignment with these criteria is significant. However, high profile governance failures at this precise moment risk undermining that narrative before it can gain meaningful traction.
The stakes are equally significant for initiatives such as the Port City Colombo. With substantial projects now approved, foreign investment commitments secured and early construction underway, this endeavour is moving from concept to delivery. Yet persistent concerns about governance standards in our established companies can act as a drag on investor sentiment. The confidence required to attract high value international tenants and long- term capital depends not only on physical infrastructure but on the perceived strength of our institutions and the consistency of our regulatory environment.
For decades, Sri Lanka has experienced growth averaging around four to five per cent per year. While this is not insignificant, it falls short of our potential, particularly when measured against the progress of our regional neighbours. India, for example, has sustained growth at roughly twice our rate for more than twenty years, driven by consistent policy execution and strengthening institutional credibility. Our own trajectory has been held back not by a lack of ideas or ambition, but by recurring shortcomings in how our major institutions are governed and held to account. The result is a cycle of unrealised potential, where promising openings are not fully converted into lasting advancement.
The current situation, though challenging, can serve as a catalyst for meaningful change. Boards of listed companies must move beyond procedural compliance to foster a genuine culture of ethical leadership, proactive risk management and zero tolerance for control failures. Regulators have an opportunity to undertake a comprehensive review of fraud prevention frameworks, whistle-blower protections and monitoring standards across the financial sector, with lessons applied to other key industries. Greater transparency in reporting material incidents and more timely forensic follow through will help rebuild trust with both domestic and international stakeholders.
Crucially, the government must tread carefully as it responds. Short term fixes or reactive measures may address immediate concerns but will not deliver the enduring stability that investors seek. What is required is a coherent long-term strategy that balances the imperative for rapid economic development with the equally vital need to conserve our natural environment and strengthen regional cooperation. Our neighbours in South Asia and Southeast Asia offer not only markets for trade and investment but also partners in shared challenges such as climate resilience, sustainable infrastructure and digital connectivity. By deepening these relationships through practical collaboration, Sri Lanka can position itself as a reliable and forward-looking partner in a dynamic region.
Sri Lanka stands at a pivotal moment. Global realignments are creating rare opportunities for capital inflows, technology transfer and new economic partnerships. Yet these opportunities will flow most readily to nations that demonstrate they can protect investor interests, uphold the rule of law and operate with predictability and transparency. If we allow governance weaknesses in our flagship institutions to persist, we risk once again watching potential pass us by.
This is a defining moment, and our response must be equally purposeful. We can treat the recent events as an unfortunate but isolated incident and return to established patterns. Or we can seize this moment as a timely reminder to strengthen every pillar of our economy, with particular attention to environmental stewardship and regional collaboration. Only by getting our house in order, with patience, consistency and a clear-eyed commitment to long term goals, can we convert today’s challenges into tomorrow’s competitive advantage. The path to sustained prosperity demands nothing less.
by Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com
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