Connect with us

Features

JUDICIAL CORRUPTION

Published

on

Dr Nihal Jayawickrama

I grew up, spending my childhood, adolescence and early adult life, in the home of a judge who ended his judicial career as head of the country’s highest court. I also had the enviable experience of serving as his private secretary sometime between my graduation and entry into the profession. The life of a judge of that time, as I observed it, is perhaps best described in the words of Justice Michael Kirby of the High Court of Australia. The regime imposed on a judge, he said, “is monastic in many of its qualities”. Lord Hailsham, a former Lord Chancellor, described the vocation of a judge as being “something like a priesthood”. Sir Winston Churchill considered that “A form of life and conduct far more severe and restricted than that of ordinary people is required from judges”.

While judges did not isolate themselves from the rest of society, or from school friends and former colleagues in the legal profession, they rarely, if ever, socialized with politicians. They declined to perform the quasi-executive function of serving on commissions of inquiry. In that relatively calm and stable economy, their salaries were rarely increased. They drove, or were driven, to Hulftsdorp in their own cars. They lived in their own homes, except for the Chief Justice who was provided with an official residence.

In the early 1960s, when I was admitted to the Bar, and began practising before the courts of this country, any suggestion that a judge or magistrate might be corrupt would have been so preposterous that, in fact, it was never heard. A strong tradition of integrity underpinned the judiciary at every level. At a time of immense change, both political and social, the judiciary remained constant in its commitment to equal justice under the law.

Of course, the judiciary had its share of problems and its critics. The trial rolls were long; the backlog in the appellate court was enormous. The rules of civil and criminal procedure were Victorian. I recall expressing the exasperation of a starry-eyed young lawyer when, writing the annual report as honorary secretary of the Bar Council, I described the judicial system as an antique labyrinth with tortuous passages and cavities through which the potential litigant must grope, often blindfolded, in his search for justice. From below the Bench, some of the judges seemed short-tempered and discourteous; some seemed lazy – one, in particular, appeared to fall asleep from time to time; and not every judge appeared to be learned in the law. However, it was unthinkable that a judge could be corrupt.

 

The emergence of judicial corruption

It was some ten years later, in the 1970s, when I was serving as Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Justice and also, ex officio, as a member of the Judicial Service Advisory Board, that I encountered, for the first time, a complaint that a magistrate had accepted a bribe. The complaint appeared to be true. When confronted, the magistrate resigned his office. It was also during this period that I saw and experienced, with considerable unease and sadness, how some serving judges could demean themselves, and the sanctity of their office, in the pursuit of preferential treatment from the executive branch of government. When some of these efforts proved to be rewarding, it was difficult not to become sceptical. It was time for the illusions of youth to disappear.

 

Conventional bribery

The picture changed dramatically in the 1980s and in the decades that followed. The civil, criminal and appellate procedural reforms of the 1970s which we introduced were repealed and the Victorian laws revived. Thereafter, many a litigant or accused person began to find it more economical to secure the disappearance of a case record or the absence of a witness than continue to retain counsel for prolonged periods when no progress was made in his or her case. Complicated procedural steps meant several gatekeepers requiring payment to facilitate movement to the next stage of judicial proceedings.

In a direct mail survey in 50 Sri Lankan judicial stations conducted by the Marga Institute in 2002, civil litigants, virtual complainants, and remand prisoners reported to having paid bribes to lawyers’ clerks, court clerks, police officers and fiscals. Lawyers reported hundreds of incidents of bribery, the beneficiaries being the same. Several Judges admitted to being aware of such acts of bribery, and added members of the legal profession to the list of beneficiaries. Finally, the Judges identified at least five of their own brethren as bribe takers, three of them being in connection with the delivery of judgments. The report of that survey was published by the Marga Institute under the title: “A System Under Siege; An Inquiry into the Judicial System of Sri Lanka”.

 

Global phenomenon

Judicial corruption was not a Sri Lankan phenomenon. In Bangladesh, a national household survey revealed that 63% of those involved in litigation had paid bribes to either court officials or the opponents’ lawyer. In Tanzania, a commission of inquiry reported several instances of judicial officers accepting bribes to grant injunctions, reduce sentences or dismiss cases; accepting bribes from advocates to give preferential judgments; and colluding with auctioneers to share the receipts from selling property belonging to litigants. In Uganda, the Chairman of the Judicial Service Commission reported several complaints of judicial officers taking bribes to give bail or judgment. In Argentina, 57% of those polled said that they felt corruption was the main problem with the judiciary. In Honduras, three out of four polled believed the judiciary was corrupt. According to the Geneva-based Centre for the Independence of Judges and Lawyers, out of 48 countries covered in its annual report for 1999, judicial corruption was pervasive in 30 countries.

 

Undue influence

Corruption in the judiciary is not limited to conventional bribery. An insidious and equally damaging form of corruption arises from the interaction between the judiciary and the executive, as well as from the relationship between the judiciary and the legal profession. For example, the political patronage through which a judge acquires his office can give rise to corruption if and when the executive makes demands on such judge. Similarly, when a family member regularly appears before a judge, or when a judge selectively ignores sentencing guidelines in cases where particular counsel appear, the conduct of the judge would give rise to the suspicion of corruption. So would a high rate of decisions in favour of the executive. Indeed, frequent socializing with particular members of the legal profession, the executive or the legislature, is almost certain to raise the suspicion that the judge is susceptible to undue influence in the discharge of his duties.

 

The blurring of a critical relationship

In Sri Lanka, a dramatic change in the relations between the judiciary and the executive occurred with the advent of the Executive President, the ultimate source of power and patronage. For example, in 1983, a Judge of the Supreme Court described to a parliamentary select committee his relations with the then President:

“I want to say this. My relations with His Excellency the President have been very cordial. In fact, I know him. I have only met Mrs Bandaranaike for a few seconds in my life. But I have known the President from 1948 and I have had very cordial relations with him. We had a common interest in history. I admire his culture, his refinement, and it was never my intention to do anything harmful to him personally. We have met at several functions at President’s House, at private dinners, and in 1981 he invited me and my wife for his birthday party at President’s House. We were very honoured. My community, my family, are his traditional supporters”.

The same Judge described how he enjoyed the hospitality of a Cabinet Minister:

Thanks to the hospitality of the Honourable Minister of Lands, we were all sent on that wonderful trip of the sites. We got younger. You know, we all went and it was a delightful trip. I wrote and told you about it. Lovely time, delightful! We were hoping we could make it a sort of annual trip.”

He also spoke about a prominent Opposition parliamentarian:

“His step-brother, Mr Michael Dias, has been a friend of mine since he was my tutor in the Lex Aquilia at Cambridge University in 1945-48. However, my friendship with Michael Dias has brought me no advantages. The two brothers are as different as chalk and cheese. I think in 1973, Honourable Minister of Lands, your nephew Upul had that tragic death by drowning. I met you in the funeral house. That was a time when he was turning Hulftsdorp upside down. We had a conversation about that. I think I told you in plain, blunt, Anglo-Saxon what I thought of him. You may remember this. I wish to say that in the 1977 election nothing gave me greater pleasure than listening all night to the Dompe result.”

 

The blurring continues

The blurring of the critical relationship between the Judiciary and the Executive continued under later Presidents. For example, in 2004, on the eve of the general election, a Chief Justice, reputed for his political sagacity and legal acumen, participated in a religious ceremony in a Buddhist temple together with a Cabinet Minister and several candidates of a particular political party. The television camera constantly focused on the Chief Justice, who was seated at the feet of the Minister (who appeared to be on an elevated seat) during the long programme. Several years after he had left office, the same Chief Justice publicly apologized for not having given the right judgment in a politically sensitive case. “I am very sorry. I am asking the whole country: forgive me”, he was reported as having said (Sunday Times, 26 October 2014).

In 2011, barely weeks after his retirement, another Chief Justice was appointed as an Adviser to the President. When a judge, and a Chief Justice at that, decides to take a great leap from the Supreme Court to the Presidential Secretariat to serve the executive branch at its core, the alarm bells must surely begin to ring. The country was entitled to know, but was not told, whether the Chief Justice had sought this position, or whether the Head of the Government had offered it to him, when and why.

In 2014, yet another Chief Justice travelled from Colombo to the deep south, to join the then President, his immediate family and his siblings, in celebrating the Sinhala and Hindu New Year rituals at the President’s “ancestral home”. Several pictures that were published showed the participants, including the Chief Justice, “attired in white and facing south” feeding milk rice to each other and engaging in other traditional transactions in what was essentially a family occasion.

 

In the same year, the same Chief Justice joined the President’s entourage (which included Ministers and Members of Parliament) on an official visit to Italy and the Vatican. It was the first occasion when a Chief Justice had accompanied a political leader on a state visit abroad.

 

Such conduct too, was not peculiar to Sri Lanka. A former President of the Supreme Court of Jordan, speaking at a conference in 1999, provided several illustrations from his own personal experience of this form of judicial corruption. He described how judges were pressurized by executive authorities to render judgment contrary to law; received benefits from the government in the form of gifts in money or in kind; and offers of employment to the judges’ children. He also spoke of victimization when the decision did not accord with the wishes of the executive.

 

The corrupting influence arising from the interaction between the judiciary and the executive has been documented by a Nigerian jurist. For example, he describes how a newly appointed judge, still undergoing training, was flown by a presidential jet to try a sensitive case of national importance and delivered his judgment by midnight; and how a judge trying a case of an opposition leader said he would need time to consult others before delivering his judgment. In Costa Rica, 54% of those polled believed that judicial decisions were subject to external “pressures”.

 

Combating Judicial Corruption

 

In 1997, after almost two decades in academia, I was persuaded by a former colleague at the Commonwealth Secretariat to “come down from the ivory towers” to work at Transparency International in Berlin. That non-governmental organization was then in its formative years, and one of its principal objectives was to identify sectors that were vulnerable to corruption, and then to formulate strategies to combat such corruption. It was there that credible evidence began surfacing of corruption in judicial systems. How should this phenomenon be addressed? Independence had always been considered to be the single fundamental requirement for a national judiciary. Judicial independence is not a privilege of judicial office, but an essential pre-requisite for the protection of the people. How real was that protection if the evidence that was surfacing was an accurate reflection of the state of the judiciary? Was judicial independence being traded for money or other benefits? Was adherence to the principle of judicial independence, by itself, sufficient to ensure the delivery of justice? Was it now necessary to formulate and implement a concept of judicial accountability?

 

Judicial Accountability

 

Accountability was not a new or novel concept. It is a constitutional requirement in a society based on the rule of law and democratic principles of governance that every power holder, whether in the legislature or the executive, is, in the final analysis, accountable to the people. Was there any reason why the judiciary, which is entrusted by the people with the exercise of judicial power, should not, individually and collectively, be accountable for the due performance of its functions? The challenge, however, was to determine how the judiciary could be held to account in a manner that was consistent with the principle of judicial independence. My colleague, the late Jeremy Pope, and I agreed that these were issues that were best resolved by the judges themselves.

 

Judicial Integrity Group

 

For that purpose, we initiated discussions with a representative group of ten Chief Justices from Africa and the Asia-Pacific region who agreed to meet under the auspices of the United Nations. At that preparatory meeting in Vienna in April 2000, which was chaired by Judge Weeramantry, Vice-President of the International Court of Justice, the Judicial Integrity Group (as this group of Chief Justices is now known) agreed that judges should be accountable to the community they serve through their absolute adherence to a set of judicial values, and that a statement of core judicial values should be capable of being enforced by the judiciary without the intervention of the executive and legislative branches of government. The Group believed that transparency at every critical stage of the judicial process will enable the community, especially through its legal academics, civil society and a free media, to judge the judges.

 

The Bangalore Principles of Judicial Conduct

 

At the request of the Group, I prepared an initial draft statement of principles of judicial conduct, drawing on rules and principles already articulated in national codes of conduct (wherever they existed) and in regional and international instruments. Over the next twenty months, that draft was widely disseminated among senior judges of both common law and civil law systems in over 75 countries. In November 2002, at the Peace Palace at The Hague, a revised draft was placed before a Round Table Meeting of Chief Justices drawn from both the civil and common law systems, at which Judges of the International Court of Justice also participated. The final draft that emerged from that meeting – the Bangalore Principles of Judicial Conduct – identifies six core values of the judiciary: Independence, Impartiality, Personal Integrity, Propriety, Equality, and Competence and Diligence.

 

In 2006, the Bangalore Principles were unanimously endorsed by the UN Economic and Social Commission (ECOSOC) in a resolution which requested Member States to encourage their judiciaries to develop rules with respect to the professional and ethical conduct of judges based on the Bangalore Principles. Sri Lanka has ignored that request.

 

Commentary and Implementation Measures

 

In 2007, at the request of ECOSOC, the Judicial Integrity Group developed a 175-page Commentary on the Bangalore Principles which has since been published by the UN and by national judiciaries in several languages. Sri Lanka has failed to take note of that.

 

In 2010, the Judicial Integrity Group agreed on Measures for the Effective Implementation of the Bangalore Principles. That statement describes action required to be taken by the judiciary, and the institutional arrangements to be established by the State to secure judicial independence and accountability. Among the latter is an independent appointment mechanism with both judicial and non-judicial members to ensure that persons selected for judicial office are persons of ability, integrity and efficiency. Through the recently enacted 20th Amendment to the Constitution, Sri Lanka has rejected that requirement.

 

Conclusion

 

The Bangalore Principles now provide the judiciary with a framework for regulating judicial conduct. It is the global standard. These Principles have been the model for codes of judicial conduct from Belize in the Caribbean to the Marshall Islands in the Pacific, from Tanzania to the Philippines, from Bolivia to Jordan. They were motivated by the need to address the phenomenon of judicial corruption. Many judiciaries across the world have profitably employed them to achieve that objective. However, the Sri Lankan Judiciary has chosen not to formulate or to implement a code of judicial conduct to regulate itself.



Continue Reading
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

Putin in Modi’s India

Published

on

Prime Minister Modi with President Putin

That was no ordinary greeting; on the frosty evening of last Thursday, Indian Prime Minister Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin in a bear hug at Delhi airport and, within moments, presented him with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian. The choice of gift was laden with symbolism—echoes of Robert Oppenheimer, who drew profound philosophical reckoning from the same text, declaring, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” after witnessing the first atomic explosion. Was Modi signaling the weight of nuclear-age responsibility to Putin, or was this a deliberate affirmation of India’s comfort in maintaining ties with a pariah state under global sanctions?

The streets of Delhi, festooned with Russian and Indian flags and dominated by colossal billboards of Modi and Putin, suggested more than ceremonial protocol—it was pageantry of influence, an audacious statement of India’s strategic independence. In that gesture, New Delhi appeared to assert that moral judgment from the West would no longer dictate its choices, and that the Indo-Russian relationship, forged during the Cold War and hardened by decades of defence dependence, remains a pivot capable of unsettling the established order in South Asia and beyond.

Putin’s first visit to India in four years, coinciding with talks in Washington over a possible Ukraine peace framework, came at a time when New Delhi is walking an increasingly delicate tightrope between Moscow and Washington. The optics of the visit—from ceremonial receptions at Rashtrapati Bhavan to summit talks at Hyderabad House—reflected not merely diplomacy but an overt projection of influence. Modi’s presentation of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian was emblematic: a centuries-old text of dharma and duty, layered with the moral weight of choice, now inserted into the theatre of high-stakes realpolitik.

Putin himself, in an interview with India Today, described India as a “major global player, not a British colony,” praising Modi as a “reliable person” who does not succumb to pressure. These words, spoken against the backdrop of US sanctions, EU manoeuvres to leverage frozen Russian assets for Ukraine, and growing Chinese assertiveness, highlight India’s determination to claim agency in a multipolar world where Washington and Brussels no longer set the rules unilaterally.

Historically, the Indo-Russian relationship has oscillated between strategic necessity and opportunism. Declassified CIA documents from the 1980s reveal the delicate dance India played with the USSR during the Cold War. Indira Gandhi’s approach, as the CIA observed, was staunchly nationalist and fiercely protective of India’s regional supremacy. The United States feared that India’s policies towards its neighbours, coupled with its Soviet alignment, could destabilize South Asia while simultaneously granting Moscow a strategic foothold. Today, the echoes of that era reverberate: New Delhi remains Moscow’s top arms buyer, leases nuclear-powered submarines, and maintains energy ties that have drawn ire from Washington, while ensuring that its engagement with Russia does not fully alienate the United States or Western partners.

What is important to see here is the economic metrics. India-Russia trade in 2025 is estimated at roughly $18 billion, heavily skewed in Moscow’s favour due to energy imports, while India continues to negotiate with the United States to mitigate punitive tariffs, including a 25 percent secondary tariff imposed over India’s purchases of Russian oil. Both nations aim to expand bilateral trade to a target of $100 billion by 2030, a goal that falls just two years after the next general elections, when Prime Minister Modi is widely expected to contest again despite the symbolic 75-year age limit for party leadership—a restriction that has largely been treated as political theatre and quickly forgotten. It is worth noting that India’s trade deficit with the US has ballooned to approximately $42 billion in the last fiscal year, reflecting both structural imbalances and the impact of these punitive measures. Remittances provide a partial counterweight: Indians working in the US send home over $90 billion annually, dwarfing Russian remittances, which are negligible in comparison. This indicates that while India faces challenges in trade metrics, its diaspora injects substantial financial resilience into the economy.

The summit also highlighted defence collaboration in stark terms. India’s $2 billion lease of a Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine, with delivery scheduled for 2028, signals an unprecedented deepening of underwater capabilities. The vessel, unable to enter combat under lease terms, is intended to train crews and refine India’s nuclear submarine operations—a critical step for strategic deterrence in the Indian Ocean amid rising Chinese and US naval competition. Russia, despite sanctions and Western pressure, continues to sustain a military-industrial complex capable of producing tanks, missiles, and drones at accelerating rates. As reports from Ukraine’s Center for Analytical Studies and Countering Hybrid Threats indicate, nearly half of Russian defence enterprises remain unsanctioned, exposing the limitations of Western punitive measures. In this context, India’s engagement with Russian defence capabilities is both a practical necessity and a symbolic assertion that strategic imperatives can outweigh Western orthodoxy.

Sanctions, however, remain a persistent backdrop. The European Union, under Ursula von der Leyen, has attempted to deploy emergency measures to convert frozen Russian assets into loans for Ukraine, challenging EU treaties and raising the prospect of legal confrontations with countries such as Hungary and Belgium. The United States, meanwhile, has explored using the same assets in US-led investment frameworks to facilitate reconstruction or political leverage. India, observing these efforts, has maintained a stance of strategic neutrality—resisting calls to condemn Russia while advocating for diplomacy, and emphasizing that selective sanctioning by Western powers is inconsistent and self-serving. Putin, speaking to India Today, noted that Washington and Moscow presented papers in parallel but reached no compromises, and highlighted that over 90 percent of Russia-India transactions are conducted in national currencies—a subtle yet potent challenge to dollar dominance.

The optics extend into nuclear and high-tech collaboration. India is developing nuclear-capable submarine-launched ballistic missiles, advancing its underwater fleet, and exploring high-tech partnerships with Russia, recalibrating the strategic environment in South Asia. Putin’s rhetoric that “Kiev is the mother of all Russian cities” and his framing of Russia’s role in eastern Ukraine resonate with historical narratives of great power assertion, yet they also serve as a conscious projection of strength aimed at partners like India. Modi’s reception was far from ceremonial; it underlined a shared understanding that global power is increasingly multipolar and that alliances must be flexible, resilient, and insulated from Western censure.

Even in the economic sphere, India challenges conventional assumptions. While the trade deficit with Russia persists due to energy imports, India’s broader engagement with global markets—including remittances from its diaspora and ongoing negotiations with the US—allows New Delhi to balance sovereignty with strategic interest. Putin’s discussions emphasizing bilateral trade growth, high-technology collaboration, and future energy projects further solidify this interdependence. The bottom line is clear: the India-Russia partnership, far from being a relic of Cold War calculations, has evolved into a sophisticated framework for navigating sanctions, economic competition, and regional security challenges, and it may yet redefine the balance of power in South Asia.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
in New Delhi

Continue Reading

Features

Lalith Athulathmudali: an exceptional minister who managed time and got the best out of his team

Published

on

Lalith Athulathmudali

His hallmark was efficiency, wit and much more

I would now like to devote some space to Minister Athulathmudali and how he ran his Ministry. His was a disciplined approach to work. Everyone knew that he was very happy in his previous portfolio of Trade and Shipping, where in addition to numerous achievements he had steered through Parliament path breaking legislation to modernize these sectors. The Port Authorities Act; the new Companies Act; the Intellectual Property Act; the Consumer Protection Act; and many others were evidence of significant productivity.

Therefore, many thought that he would be unhappy in his new portfolio. In fact some one asked him this question one day, in our presence. His reply was characteristic of his professional approach to work. He said that the Ministry he was given did not matter. Whatever Ministry, hie was given, it was his duty to comprehend the issues and productively address them. “Even if I was given the Buddha Sasana Ministry, I will still find plenty to do to improve matters,” he concluded. This spirit and this approach illuminated the work of the Ministry. I have yet to see anyone, apart from a Minister, who budgeted time so rigorously.

He desired to pack value to every passing minute. He was the only Minister, I knew in nearly 37 years of public service, who always fixed a starting as well as a finishing time for all his meetings. Perhaps the only meeting where he could not have a firm grip on time was the Cabinet meeting. There were no welcoming speeches or votes of thanks in his regime. He came to a meeting and got straight to the point. He despised visibly the sycophantic panegyrics which had become a part of the culture of welcoming speeches and votes of thanks.

He used to say publicly that we had become a society of humbugs and lick-spittles. He wanted none of it. With him performance was all. You either kept to his pace of work and requirement for relevancy in all matters, or you were quickly marginalized. To some of us, who had cultivated a life long habit of hard work, and of being up to date, it was both pleasurable and at times even exhilarating to work with him. The lazy or the unprepared had to encounter him with considerable dread as a companion. Not that he was ever harsh. He did not raise his voice, or even scold. He had the capacity to marginalize and dismiss you with wit and verve.

Mr. Athulathmudali just did not have time for pedlars in excuses or shirkers. Again, this did not mean that he expected us to be superhuman. He was a quick judge of the genuine and the credible. He was well aware that those who work hard and take scores of decisions a day would sometimes make mistakes. That was to be expected, provided however that they were not due to gross negligence or egregious blunder. Reasonable errors of judgment were a different matter provided of course they were not too frequent. With him all the officers knew what to expect.

I often wondered whether in Mr. Athulathmudali’s case, his intense preoccupation with time had something to do with the near death experience he suffered when he was seriously injured in a grenade explosion in Parliament. Those who rushed him to hospital on that day said that they could feel no pulse. He himself later said that he went beyond and then returned. My opportunity to work closely with him as Secretary was after he had undergone this experience. Everyone knew of course that he was a quick decision maker and an efficient Minister even before this incident. But I have no means of telling whether this obsession with time to this degree was a post incident reaction or not.

Linked together with this preoccupation with time was the intensity of his desire to be completely up to date both on matters relating to the subject areas of his Ministry as well as all aspects of current affairs. He regularly read the major current affairs magazines and journals. He read rapidly and was therefore able to pack in more into his reading time. He almost always read in the car, a habit which I shared with him. On one occasion, on a trip outside Colombo, he invited me to join him in his car for the journey back. After about half an hour’s conversation, both of us settled down to read, for I too always carried a stock of reading matter in the car. Some cannot read in a moving vehicle. They get nausea if they try. I have been fortunate that this does not happen to me, because I have finished whole books, whilst commuting to and fro.

The alternative would have been vacantly gazing on familiar sights. To round up this aspect of Mr. Athulathmudali’s character, one thing more needs to be said. He was the only person I knew who nearly always carried a World band radio in his brief case. He used to briefly interrupt meetings some times in order to catch the latest news bulletin from the BBC, Voice of America or some other station. Such was the importance he placed on being completely up to date. I hope all these do not convey an image of some grim automaton. That would be far from the truth.

His was a complex character. It was in fact fun to work with him. We got through discussing serious subjects with a considerable degree of wit, repartee and light banter. He encouraged criticism and dissent. But you had to have an arguable point and be prepared to sustain the argument with him. He also insisted on politeness in conversation and in argument. I myself as well as some of the senior pfficials of our team regularly argued with him. Both sides enjoyed this.

Mr. Athulathmudali created the conditions that made us feel comfortable arguing with him or dissenting. In this process, we were treated as equals. Mrs. Bandaranaike was another one of those persons who welcomed an argument with her officials, and did not try to stamp down dissent. She too, like Mr. Athulathmudali had high regard for such officials, a regard which she carried with her well past her own political vicissitudes.

Main areas of focus

Mr. Athulathmudali focused on two main areas. The first area related to the numerous operations of the Ministry. These Included a close and detailed pursuit of the progress of the two main paddy crops in the seasons of Maha and Yala; the review of the position from time to time of the situation in regard to the production of subsidiary food crops such as chillies, onions and potatoes, the review of issues relating to what were called minor export crops such as coffee, cocoa, cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon; the addressing of major issues relating to timely water distribution, pest control, etc; urgent issues of agricultural marketing and the roles of the Paddy Marketing Board, the Co-operatives and the private sector; problems in regard to food buffer stocking; issues relating to milk production, and so on.

These areas were covered in detail by the overall official team of Additional Secretaries, Directors, Heads of Department and myself. We had a system of regular meetings at various levels, culminating in a few large meetings chaired by me, at which issues that could not be addressed at lower levels were brought up for discussion and resolution. Meetings chaired by the Minister served two purposes. They kept film fully briefed and up to date. Also residual problems that could not be resolved at official level were taken up in these fora. Often, problems discussed with him by us had a political or important policy element. On all other matters we decided freely and without interference. The prevailing environment led to easy information flows and speedy decision making. The Minister would have countenanced nothing less.

His second area of concentration was on research, development and quality improvement. Here, unlike on operational matters we did not have several layers of meetings. These meetings were single overall meetings chaired by the Minister himself with all the relevant actors present. Whatever the subject area discussed at these meetings, the Minister wished to have his four State Ministers present. This was done for two reasons. In the first instance, he wanted his State Ministers exposed to all areas and aspects of the Ministry. They already had some exposure at Mini-Cabinet meetings. But these meetings were generally on operational and co-ordination issues and not on quality and research.

Secondly, the Minister followed a policy of recommending to the President that each one of his State Ministers act in turn for him, when he was out of the country, beginning with the most senior of them, and following subsequently the order of seniority. This was another reason why he wanted them to know everything that was going on in the Ministry. The Minister followed the same principle in regard to the State Secretaries, when I had to be out of the country.

What were some of the areas that the Minister took up for regular discussions at these special meetings? They consisted of issues such as the stagnation in rice yields over a considerable period of time; new varieties of rice being developed; issues such as Nitrogen fixation in plants and the reduction in the use of chemical fertilizers; the possibility of introducing better varieties of maize; issues relating to the fragmentation of cultivable land, especially paddy lands and its impact on production, productivity and long term sustainability; issues relating to the growing and the use of soya, and the question of Sri Lankan food habits in relation to its consumption; issues of post harvest losses and possible remedies; issues relating to growing for a market and the relationship that should be developed between the producer and the buyer; matters relating to quality control at all levels, and a number of other matters.

These meetings were extremely interesting. They were attended by senior scientists, researchers, agricultural economists and marketing experts. The Minister was greatly exercised with the central issues of high quality research, bringing the findings of such research to the field, and obtaining a detailed feedback from between research and growers back into the research process. This was a virtuous circle, he wished to encourage and to improve. But in this, all of us were to suffer bitter disappointment.

The link between research and the field and back to research were the army of agricultural instructors. They were an old and a tried and tested institution. They were a highly trained staff with a high degree of professional pride in their work. In fact, Sri Lanka had the reputation of having one of the best agricultural extension systems in the whole of Asia. But along with the President’s Janasaviya program of poverty alleviation arose the necessity for much larger numbers of Grama Sevakas or village level officers. The agricultural instructors were diverted for this purpose.

In spite of all the reasoning we could adduce, the President and his advisors thought that these officers could function in a dual capacity. The passage of time clearly revealed that as foreseen by us, they couldn’t. Thus was broken a tried, tested and an effective system. The Minister was more cynical than angry. He regarded the action as an act of irresponsibility and vandalism. So did everyone connected with agriculture.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Peiris) ✍️

Continue Reading

Features

How climate change fuels extreme weather:

Published

on

A landslide in Sri Lank (Photo: Sri Lanka Red Cross)

What Sri Lanka’s recent disasters tell us

Sri Lanka has always lived with the moods of the monsoon. For generations, people have grown used to seasonal rhythms of rain, wind and sunshine. Yet what the country has witnessed in recent months feels different. The storms have been stronger, the rainfall more intense, the destruction more widespread and the recovery more painful. The nation has been battered by floods, landslides and hurricane force winds that arrived with little warning and left thousands struggling to rebuild their lives. Scientists say this new pattern is not an accident of nature. It is a direct outcome of the world’s changing climate, which is heating the atmosphere and oceans and turning familiar weather cycles into something far more volatile.

To understand why Sri Lanka is experiencing such severe storms and flooding, it helps to begin with a simple idea. A warmer world holds more energy. When the atmosphere and ocean temperatures rise, they behave like an overheated engine. The monsoon winds strengthen. Rain clouds grow heavier. Sea levels climb. All these changes amplify the forces that produce extreme weather. What used to be occasional, manageable disasters are turning into regular and overwhelming events.

One of the clearest links between climate change and extreme weather is found in rising ocean temperatures. The Indian Ocean is warming faster than most other major bodies of water on the planet. This has serious consequences for Sri Lanka because the surrounding sea regulates the island’s climate. Warm oceans feed moisture into the atmosphere. This moisture then forms clouds that can trigger heavy downpours. When ocean temperatures climb beyond their normal range, the atmosphere becomes supercharged. Rain that once fell steadily over several days can now fall in a matter of hours. This explains why many parts of the country have witnessed sudden cloudbursts that turn roads into rivers and fields into lakes.

Floods in Sri Lanka

Warmer oceans also influence wind patterns. A heated sea surface disturbs air circulation, sometimes producing swirling systems that carry destructive winds and torrential rain. While full scale cyclones are less frequent in Sri Lanka than in parts of India or Bangladesh, the island is increasingly experiencing hybrid storms that bring cyclone like winds without being classified as named cyclones. These storms uproot trees, blow roofs off houses and knock down electricity lines, making post disaster life even harder for affected communities.

Another major factor behind Sri Lanka’s recent extreme weather is the shifting behaviour of the monsoon. For centuries, the island has relied on two monsoons that arrive at predictable times. Farmers, fishermen and traders built their lives around this rhythm. Climate change has disrupted this familiar pattern. The monsoons are becoming erratic. They may arrive later than usual or withdraw too early. In some years they bring too little rain, causing droughts. In other years they arrive with overwhelming intensity, bringing rain far beyond the land’s capacity to absorb. This unpredictability makes it difficult for people to prepare. It also increases the risk of disasters because infrastructure, agriculture and drainage systems were designed for a different climate.

In many regions of Sri Lanka, the land itself has become more vulnerable. Rising temperatures and unpredictable rainfall weaken soil structures. When long dry spells are followed by sudden downpours, the earth cannot hold together. Hillsides become unstable and landslides occur with devastating speed. Villages that once felt safe now face new threats as slopes collapse without warning. These disasters are not simply natural. They are intensified by human activities such as deforestation, poor land management and unplanned construction. Climate change acts as a catalyst, magnifying these risks and turning minor vulnerabilities into life threatening dangers.

The Sea level rise adds yet another layer of concern. The coasts of Sri Lanka are home to millions of people, as well as vital industries such as fishing, tourism and trade. Higher sea levels make coastal flooding far more common, especially when combined with storm surges. During recent storms, waves pushed much farther inland than usual, damaging homes, shops and fishing equipment. Saltwater intrusion also harms soil and freshwater supplies, threatening agriculture in coastal zones. With sea levels continuing to rise, these risks will only grow unless long term protective measures are put in place.

It is also important to recognise the human side of these disasters. Climate change is not only about shifting weather patterns. It is about the people who must confront the consequences. In the aftermath of the recent events, Sri Lankans have shown remarkable courage. Families have worked together to clear debris, rebuild houses, restore livelihoods and comfort those in distress. Yet the burden has not been evenly distributed. Low income households, informal settlements and rural communities often face the greatest hardships. Many of them live in areas more prone to flooding and landslides. They also have fewer resources to recover when disasters strike. Climate change therefore deepens existing inequalities, making vulnerable groups even more exposed.

Children are among the worst affected. Schools often close for days or weeks after floods, interrupting education and adding stress to families already struggling with upheaval. Health risks rise as stagnant water becomes a breeding ground for mosquito borne diseases. Malnutrition can worsen when livelihoods are disrupted and food prices increase. Elderly people face additional risks because they may have difficulty moving quickly during emergencies or accessing medical care after the disaster.

In cities, extreme weather strains essential services. Heavy rains overwhelm drainage systems, causing urban flooding that brings traffic to a halt and damages vehicles and businesses.

Hospitals face sudden influxes of patients. Water treatment plants struggle to maintain supply when rivers overflow or become contaminated. Power outages become common as strong winds damage transmission lines. These disruptions show how deeply interconnected human systems are with the natural environment. When the climate changes, every part of society feels the impact.

Despite the grim realities, there is reason for hope. Sri Lanka has a long history of resilience. Communities have rebuilt after countless storms, droughts and conflicts. Today the country has access to better technology, stronger scientific knowledge and more global support than ever before. What is needed is a clear commitment to prepare for the future rather than react only after disasters strike.

One of the most promising strategies is early warning systems. Accurate forecasts can save lives by giving people the time they need to move to safety. Sri Lanka has already improved its meteorological capabilities, but there is still room to strengthen local communication networks so that warnings reach everyone, including those in remote areas or without internet access. Community education is equally important. When people understand what climate change means for their region, they can make informed choices about housing, farming and water use.

Infrastructure must also evolve. Drainage systems in many towns need upgrading to handle more intense rainfall. Riverbanks require reinforcement to prevent flooding. New buildings, particularly in risk prone zones, must follow safety standards that take climate change into account rather than relying on outdated assumptions about weather patterns. At the same time, restoring natural ecosystems can offer powerful protection. Replanting mangroves, preserving wetlands and maintaining forest cover all help buffer the impact of floods, storms and landslides. Nature is one of the most effective defences against extreme weather when it is allowed to function properly.

On a broader level, Sri Lanka will benefit from global efforts to slow climate change. The island is a small emitter of greenhouse gases compared to many industrialised nations, yet it bears a heavy share of the consequences. International cooperation is essential to reduce harmful emissions, invest in renewable energy and support adaptation in vulnerable countries. Sri Lanka can also strengthen its energy security by expanding solar, wind and other sustainable sources, which reduce dependence on fossil fuels that contribute to climate change.

However, even as governments and scientists work on long term solutions, the experience of ordinary Sri Lankans during the recent storms offers an important lesson. Climate change is not a distant threat. It is happening now. It is felt in flooded living rooms, damaged paddy fields, broken bridges and displaced families. It reshapes the choices parents make for their children and the fears felt by those who live close to rivers or hillsides. It influences food prices, housing stability and health. It is a lived reality, not just an environmental problem.

At its heart, the story of Sri Lanka’s extreme weather is a story about people trying to protect their homes and loved ones. It shows how a global crisis can land with fierce intensity on a small island. But it also reveals the strength of human solidarity. Neighbours rescuing neighbours. Strangers offering food and shelter. Volunteers stepping into danger to help those trapped in rising waters. This spirit of care will be essential in the years ahead as the climate continues to warm and weather events become even more unpredictable.

There is no single solution that will shield Sri Lanka from every future storm. Yet there are many steps the country can take to reduce risk, strengthen communities and build resilience. These efforts will require resources, planning and political will. They will demand cooperation across regions, sectors and generations. Above all, they will require recognising that climate change is not someone else’s problem. It is a shared challenge that demands collective responsibility.

The recent disasters have served as a warning and a call to action. They have shown how quickly weather can turn violent and how deeply it can disrupt daily life. But they have also shown the urgency of preparing for a hotter and more unpredictable world. Sri Lanka has the knowledge and the capability to adapt. Its people have the determination. If these strengths are harnessed with foresight and compassion, the country can chart a safer path through the stormy decades ahead.

Climate change may be reshaping the monsoon, but it does not have to dictate Sri Lanka’s destiny. With the right choices, the island can remain not only a place of natural beauty but also a place of resilience, hope and human connection in the face of a changing planet.

(The writer is an environmentalist.)

by Vincent David ✍️

Continue Reading

Trending