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Kumar David at 80: Engineer, Scholar, Socialist

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by Rajan Philips

Professor Kumar David will be turning 80 later this week, on July 29. He is most familiar to readers of the Sunday Island as one of its regular columnists – trenchant, funny, irreverent, provocative, but always well informed and substantial. Most readers also know that Kumar David is a great deal more than a weekly columnist. More than occasionally, he has donned his academic cap as a Professor of Electrical Engineering to wade into Sri Lanka’s power and energy sector and its recurrent crises. At least on one occasion he turned his column into a public lecture to his former students at the Ceylon Electricity Board, reminding them of what he taught them at Peradeniya about electricity pricing and asking what on earth they were doing as practicing Engineers in determining consumer electricity tariffs to suit misguided government policy. Often, he uses his space to popularize science in the manner of a dedicated teacher bringing his students up to date with recent advances in science and technology, and revisiting old debates with the enthusiasm of yore but with new information and nuances.

As an Electrical Engineer, Kumar David has scaled the mountain height both in the world of academia and in the power supply and transmission industry. He graduated with First Class Honours in Electrical Engineering from the University of Ceylon in 1963. He was a Commonwealth Scholar for three years (1966-1969) at the Imperial College of Science & Technology, University of London, completing his PhD and DIC in 1969.

He is a Fellow of the Institution of Electrical Engineers in the United Kingdom, Hong Kong and the USA, receiving citations for his contributions to the restructuring of the electricity supply industry and transmission development, which has been his main research area in recent decades. In Sri Lanka, he was appointed to the Board of Directors of the Ceylon Electricity Board when he was 29. He has been an industry consultant in Asian and African countries. He has held visiting professorships and research positions in universities in the US and Sweden.

He taught at Peradeniya for over ten years until 1980, in Zimbabwe for three years (1980-1983), and from 1983 for over 25 years in Hong Kong at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University, where he retired as Dean, Faculty of Engineering. He was the first non-European to become Dean of Engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic, which is a centre of excellence for students from China and other neighbouring countries. Kumar David has navigated the rites of passage for generations of students in Sri Lanka, Africa and many Asian countries obtaining their undergraduate and graduate degrees in Engineering.

 

A Lifelong Sama Samajist

For all his extended sojourns overseas, Kumar David never totally left the country, and certainly not its politics. He remains a Sri Lankan citizen, he is not a (dual) citizen of any other country, and he carries only a Sri Lankan passport. When he began his weekly writings in the Sunday Island 15 years ago, he was beginning his retirement as Dean of Engineering in Hong Kong. To strike a nostalgic note, Kumar David and I belong to a group of Sri Lankans who would be happy to be identified as students of the Hector Abhyavardhana school of political writing. Other and more illustrious members of the group include Tissa Vitarana, Vijaya Kumar, Shantha de Alwis, Chris Rodrigo, Sumanasiri Liyanage, Jayampathy Wickremaratne, Jayantha Somasundaram, and the late Ajith Samaranayake.

Hector, an accomplished Marxist intellectual and LSSP theoretician, never wrote for the mainstream media. First in India (1945-1960) and later in Sri Lanka, he published his own political journals. We wrote for Hector in Sri Lanka. Our foray into mainstream media is a relatively recent development. Interestingly, if not coincidentally, Tissa Vitarana, Kumar David, and yours truly appear practically every week in the Sunday Island. Our political angles are different, but as Bala Tampoe said while appearing on the same platform, in Kandy, with his erstwhile mentor Dr. Colvin R de Silva, soon after Colvin became a United Front Government Minister in 1970, “Our positions may be different, but our priorities should remain the same.”

Kumar David, S. Balakrishnan and I might be the only people alive of the core group that included Fr. Paul Caspersz, Bala Tampoe, Upali Cooray, Jayaratne Maliyagoda, Prins Rajasooriya, Yohan Devananda, and Regi Siriwardena, who launched the Movement for Inter-Racial Justice and Equality (MIRJE) in 1979. Silan Kadirgamar spearheaded the MIRJE Branch in Jaffna. MIRJE fact finding missions visited Jaffna and documented human rights violations during the 1979 Emergency and the burning of the Public Library in 1981. It is pathetic to see now spurious narratives being bandied to falsify the unfalsifiable truth about the burning of the Jaffna Public Library. Be that as it may.

Kumar has been a lifelong political activist. Indeed, a lifelong Sama Samajist. Inspired by the 1953 Hartal, he joined the LSSP Youth Movement at the age of 12. And 68 years on, he has not looked back, but marched on. He became a full Member of the LSSP as a first-year undergraduate in 1960, and functioned as Secretary of the LSSP University Local (Branch). He was one of the two youngest members (the other being Lal Wijeynaike, Lawyer and now of the NPP) at the historic 1964 Conference of the Party. It was a Special Conference held on June 6 and 7, to resolve the ‘coalition question.’ The majority resolution calling for an SLFP-LSSP government moved by NM Perera and 21 Central Committee Members prevailed.

Those who moved the defeated left-opposition resolution rejecting the SLFP-LSSP coalition, including stalwarts like Edmund Samarakoddy and Bala Tampoe, dramatically walked out of the conference and broke away from the Party. As the dust of drama settled, a devastated Kumar David had sunk to the floor below the stage, when a huge hand reaching from above tapped his head and a deep voice followed: “It’s not the end of the world, young man.” It was Colvin, who with Leslie Goonewardene and Bernard Soysa, had moved the “centrist resolution’ calling for a progressive SLFP-ULF government. That resolution was also defeated but they did not leave the Party.

In 1970, Kumar David was one of a triumvirate of young Sama Samajists who set up a secret internal left faction (Vaama Sama Samaja group) within the LSSP. The prime mover was Wickramabahu Karunaratne (Bahu), and the third member was Vasudeva Nanayakkara. All three were rising stars in the LSSP that had just won a massive electoral victory as a coalition partner of the United Front of the SLFP, the LSSP and the CP. Kumar was 29 and Bahu 27, and both were young lecturers in Engineering at Peradeniya. Vasudeva was 31 and the film star face of the future LSSP. Vasudeva and Bahu were members of the LSSP Central Committee and Kumar David was on the Board of Directors of the (Ceylon) Electricity Board. The aim of the secret faction was to restore the LSSP to its pre-1964 roots through an internal struggle from within the Party, without leaving the Party. By 1977, however, all three were outside the LSSP and had launched the new Nava Sama Samaja Party.

1977 also marked the electoral decimation of the Sri Lankan Left, and decimation, as well, of Sri Lanka’s parliamentary system. The terms of politics changed with the new presidential system, the opening of the economy, and the violent eruption of the national question. The end of the internal war in 2009 precipitated new challenges while old problems have kept pressing for new solutions. The base fundamentals have not changed but new superstructural issues have emerged and become dominant. The old generation of leaders, the old Left leaders in particular, who dominated post-independence politics are now gone, and the new generation of politicians who are filling the vacuum are neither well-grounded in the institutions they have inherited, nor are they particularly well equipped to adapt to new changes occurring locally and globally.

It is this new 21st century situation that provides the context for Kumar David’s current political writings. Often, Kumar David disparages what is left of the Old Left as dead Left, and berates and cajoles the JVP to rise above its past follies and seize the current moment and provide a new progressive, secular and pluralistic alternative. He was perhaps the first commentator to call for a single-issue (abolish the presidency) common presidential candidate in 2014, and he was the only observer to raise the alarm even before the 2015 January election (much to the chagrin of many that Kumar was as usual rocking the boat) – that the common candidacy of Maithripala Sirisena was being opportunistically diluted too much to be able to fulfill its historic purpose and potential. Unfortunately, his critical foresight has been proved to be correct. And worse was to follow and has followed. The country that was supposed to recuperate under a new President after the 2019 presidential election, is now in the worst dystopic spiral ever – doubly bound by a global pandemic and government incompetence.

 

The Intellectual and the Party

Kumar David was born on July 29, 1941, to Ceylon Tamil parents, Benedict and Amybelle David. Kumar credits his mother to have been the greatest influence in his life. He learnt his values from her – the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. His father was a Hulftsdorp Advocate who joined the Judicial Service, served in different parts of the island, and retired as Chief Magistrate Colombo. His maternal grandfather James Joseph was a District Judge, and his maternal uncle Andrew Joseph was a Sri Lankan and UN Diplomat, who retired as Deputy Director UNDP. Kumar’s paternal grandparents and maternal grandfather were Catholics, while his maternal grandmother was a strong Anglican. Kumar also traces his roots to Hinduism through his mother, whose paternal grandfather was a Hindu, who became a Catholic, changing his name from Murugesupillai to Joseph, to marry the young Catholic woman whom he besotted. Kumar’s Catholic forefathers were a well-established Catholic community in Jaffna town. They were benefactors of the local Church and custodians of Jaffna’s St. Mary’s Cathedral parish.

Kumar grew up in Colombo, living in Ratmalana and later in Thimbirigasaya. He went to school at St. Thomas’s College, Mount Lavinia. His university education in Engineering was also in Colombo, as the Engineering Faculty was then located in Colombo until its relocation to Peradeniya in 1964. Kumar’s fascination for Marxism and Left politics and his path to the LSSP were influenced by his stepfather, Lloyd de Silva, who his mother married in 1953. An LSSPer, Lloyd de Silva had a good library of Marxist texts, open to be devoured by someone young, curious and necessarily intelligent. Kumar also became introduced to almost all of the LSSP leaders. Colvin, Bernard and Hector were frequent visitors to their house. Kumar recalls the day after SWRD Bandaranaike’s election victory in 1956, when Colvin R de Silva walked into their house like a huge giant and booming out “Lloyd, tomorrow we are going to have a new government.”

Political organizations play a socializing role in facilitating shared responses to social situations. A revolutionary workers’ party is set up to play, in Leninist terms, a vanguard role and spearhead the cause of social revolution. The party invariably draws on two contradictory segments of society: the social elites from the upper echelons of society carrying the ‘political consciousness’, and dispossessed workers from the bottom drawers of society carrying the ‘psychological consciousness.’ The resulting fusion is what Georg Lukacs called the “imputed consciousness” of the political party. There is also a process of cultural transformation in which, as Hector once described, the worker “enlarges his vision and understanding and acquires the attributes of the highest contemporary human culture; and the elite member “liberates intelligence and knowledge from the vanity of mere intellectual prowess and mellows it with identification and belonging to society as a whole.”

The Lanka Sama Samaja Party, founded in December 1935, was Sri Lanka’s first political party. Its founding leaders, Philip Gunawardena, NM Perera, SA Wickremasinghe, Colvin R de Silva, Leslie Goonewardene – were all young men in their twenties and thirties. Almost all of them were drawn from the highest echelons of Sri Lankan society, but based more on their educational qualifications and accomplishments than by possession of property or any other form of wealth. They were the bearers of a new political consciousness not just for the nascent party but for an entire politically dormant country. For the psychological or experiential consciousness, they turned to the island’s “toiling masses.”

The inaugural manifesto of the Party identified the establishment of a socialist society as “the primary aim” of the Party, the prevailing imperialist rule as the biggest obstacle to political independence and socialist emancipation, and “the toiling masses” as the sole agency to carry out the struggle against imperialism. Thus, the LSSP was born as a bi-modal party, articulating a disciplined cadre component and a positively populist mass base. The founding of the LSSP lit a fire among the island’s intelligentsia and for at least three decades some of the brightest and the best in Sri Lanka were drawn to politics initially because of the LSSP, and later because of both the LSSP and the CP.

The recruitment, or the calling, certainly diminished and dried up presumably after 1964. But during the 1940s, 1950, and even a good part of the 1960s, young pre-university and university students in not insignificant numbers felt inspired to join either of the two Left parties. Kumar David answered his calling when he was twelve inspired by the 1953 Hartal. He was also drawn from the elitist segment of Sri Lankan society, but like many others of his ilk and thanks to the Party he joined, he was able to make a bonfire of inherited vanities and identify his many abilities and attributes with the society as a whole.

Politics without Power

Kumar David and those of his generation joined the LSSP or the CP when the two parties were at the height of their powers. But already in the 1940s, there were developments that would hamstring the Left in general, and the LSSP in particular, in the years after independence. From the very inception of the LSSP, the conservative social and political forces imposed a permanent electoral handicap on the Party by characterizing it as a low-caste, anti-religious, and pro-Indian Party. Another handicap, involving language, would be added after independence.

The proscription (1940-1945) of the LSSP by the colonial government and the attendant expulsion (1940-1947) of NM Perera and Philip Gunawardena from the State Council precluded the Party from open political activity. In their four years in State Council NM and Philip, even without ministerial powers, laid the bedrock foundation for Sri Lanka’s social welfarism. The years of proscription and the expulsion were lost years for the LSSP, which could never be fully recuperated.

Even so, the LSSP resumed politics with a bang and independence arrived in 1948, earlier than anyone expected and accelerated by the 1947 strike. The 12 August 1953 Hartal was certainly the highest point of mass activity in Sri Lanka’s history. The Hartal which began with strike action by workers was soon overtaken by the protesting energy of the “toiling masses.” The Hartal enhanced the political muscle of the Left, but not its electoral fortunes. Its ultimate outcome was the defeat of the UNP government in 1956, and the election of the MEP-SLFP coalition under SWRD Bandaranaike that included the Philip Gunawardena (MEP) faction of the old LSSP.

The SLFP that reaped the rewards in 1956 had stood on the sidelines in 1953. It may not be widely known now, but the only other party in parliament to fully join the Left Parties in the Hartal was the Tamil Federal Party. As well, the victory of the MEP-SLFP coalition was ensured by the no-contest agreement it had with the LSSP and the CP to avoid inter-party vote splitting. In March 1960, the LSSP made an all-out but unsuccessful attempt to form a government on its own. The 1960 failure was the beginning of formal coalition politics that led to the formation of the United Front government in 1970.

The years and decades after 1953 and 1964 have seen recurrent questions and criticisms about the alleged failure of the two Left Parties to seize the apparently revolutionary opportunity that emerged at the height of the 1953 Hartal, and their drift to coalition politics after 1960. In his “Revolutionary Idealism and Parliamentary Politics,” the late Ranjith Amerasinghe has provided a committedly scholarly assessment of the LSSP’s role both in 1953 and 1964, and locates them in a historical perspective while focusing on the Party’s “ideological and organizational adaptation to a Westminster–model parliamentary system.” But these weighty questions will perennially persist, even though in Sri Lanka’s current situation, when corrupt charlatanism is in the saddle and running (rather ruining) the country, it would be both a tragedy and a farce to raise them even esoterically.

As I noted at the outset, Bahu, Vasu and Kumar attempted to address these questions critically from within the LSSP beginning in 1970. The course of events after 1977 within Sri Lanka and outside have exposed the global forces that have been at play, and over which no Left Party anywhere in the world has been able to have any sway within the traditional revolutionary perspective that Left Parties have been functioning until then. Kumar David has consistently drawn attention to these global changes, principally the collapse of the socialist second world and its integration in the global market, and tried to redefine the terms of engagement for the Left in Sri Lanka. Kumar and Bahu have also been consistent in their criticisms of the LSSP leadership for the 1972 Constitution that was a total repudiation of everything that the LSSP stood for on the national question, in 1956, and dearly paid for.

In fairness, the two Left Parties and anyone and everyone ever associated with the Left in Sri Lanka have rallied to support the Thirteenth Amendment as a constitutional solution to the national question. In addition, the two founding leaders of the LSSP, NM and Colvin, have left behind a powerful legacy of opposition to the wholly abominable albatross created by the 1978 Constitution. It will not be an exaggeration to say that in his own way Kumar David has been carrying the same torch of opposition for nearly 15 years, and constantly reminding those in parliament that it is their business to operationalize this opposition in a practical way.

The LSSP has been a quintessentially opposition party, and it is this characteristic that has made the pursuit of politics worthwhile even when it does not lead to its ultimate consummation with power. At 80, Kumar David is possessed of the same passion for positive opposition as he was when he was 12, at the time of the Great Hartal. Over the years, he has scaled academic mountains, fought the good political fight, kept the socialist faith, but is not ready to call off the race. He deserves a break, at least, to celebrate his 80th birthday with his wife Rohini, son Amrit, his grandchildren, and his extended family. We say: Many Happy Returns!



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Rebuilding Sri Lanka Through Inclusive Governance

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Management Committee of the 'Rebuilding Sri Lanka' Fund Appointed with Representatives from the Public and Private Sectors - PMD

In the immediate aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah, the government has moved swiftly to establish a Presidential Task Force for Rebuilding Sri Lanka with a core committee to assess requirements, set priorities, allocate resources and raise and disburse funds. Public reaction, however, has focused on the committee’s problematic composition. All eleven committee members are men, and all non-government seats are held by business personalities with no known expertise in complex national development projects, disaster management and addressing the needs of vulnerable populations. They belong to the top echelon of Sri Lanka’s private sector which has been making extraordinary profits. The government has been urged by civil society groups to reconsider the role and purpose of this task force and reconstitute it to be more representative of the country and its multiple  needs.

 The group of high-powered businessmen initially appointed might greatly help mobilise funds from corporates and international donors, but this group may be ill equipped to determine priorities and oversee disbursement and spending. It would be necessary to separate fundraising, fund oversight and spending prioritisation, given the different capabilities and considerations required for each. International experience in post disaster recovery shows that inclusive and representative structures are more likely to produce outcomes that are equitable, efficient and publicly accepted. Civil society, for instance, brings knowledge rooted in communities, experience in working with vulnerable groups and a capacity to question assumptions that may otherwise go unchallenged.

 A positive and important development is that the government has been responsive to these criticisms and has invited at least one civil society representative to join the Rebuilding Sri Lanka committee. This decision deserves to be taken seriously and responded to positively by civil society which needs to call for more representation rather than a single representative.  Such a demand would reflect an understanding that rebuilding after a national disaster cannot be undertaken by the state and the business community alone. The inclusion of civil society will strengthen transparency and public confidence, particularly at a moment when trust in institutions remains fragile. While one appointment does not in itself ensure inclusive governance, it opens the door to a more participatory approach that needs to be expanded and institutionalised.

Costly Exclusions

 Going  down the road of history, the absence of inclusion in government policymaking has cost the country dearly. The exclusion of others, not of one’s own community or political party, started at the very dawn of Independence in 1948. The Father of the Nation, D S Senanayake, led his government to exclude the Malaiyaha Tamil community by depriving them of their citizenship rights. Eight years later, in 1956, the Oxford educated S W R D Bandaranaike effectively excluded the Tamil speaking people from the government by making Sinhala the sole official language. These early decisions normalised exclusion as a tool of governance rather than accommodation and paved the way for seven decades of political conflict and three decades of internal war.

Exclusion has also taken place virulently on a political party basis. Both of Sri Lanka’s post Independence constitutions were decided on by the government alone. The opposition political parties voted against the new constitutions of 1972 and 1977 because they had been excluded from participating in their design. The proposals they had made were not accepted. The basic law of the country was never forged by consensus. This legacy continues to shape adversarial politics and institutional fragility. The exclusion of other communities and political parties from decision making has led to frequent reversals of government policy. Whether in education or economic regulation or foreign policy, what one government has done the successor government has undone.

 Sri Lanka’s poor performance in securing the foreign investment necessary for rapid economic growth can be attributed to this factor in the main. Policy instability is not simply an economic problem but a political one rooted in narrow ownership of power. In 2022, when the people went on to the streets to protest against the government and caused it to fall, they demanded system change in which their primary focus was corruption, which had reached very high levels both literally and figuratively. The focus on corruption, as being done by the government at present, has two beneficial impacts for the government. The first is that it ensures that a minimum of resources will be wasted so that the maximum may be used for the people’s welfare.

Second Benefit

 The second benefit is that by focusing on the crime of corruption, the government can disable many leaders in the opposition. The more opposition leaders who are behind bars on charges of corruption, the less competition the government faces. Yet these gains do not substitute for the deeper requirement of inclusive governance. The present government seems to have identified corruption as the problem it will emphasise. However, reducing or eliminating corruption by itself is not going to lead to rapid economic development. Corruption is not the sole reason for the absence of economic growth. The most important factor in rapid economic growth is to have government policies that are not reversed every time a new government comes to power.

 For Sri Lanka to make the transition to self-sustaining and rapid economic development, it is necessary that the economic policies followed today are not reversed tomorrow. The best way to ensure continuity of policy is to be inclusive in governance. Instead of excluding those in the opposition, the mainstream opposition in particular needs to be included. In terms of system change, the government has scored high with regard to corruption. There is a general feeling that corruption in the country is much reduced compared to the past. However, with regard to inclusion the government needs to demonstrate more commitment. This was evident in the initial choice of cabinet ministers, who were nearly all men from the majority ethnic community. Important committees it formed, including the Presidential Task Force for a Clean Sri Lanka and the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force, also failed at first to reflect the diversity of the country.

 In a multi ethnic and multi religious society like Sri Lanka, inclusivity is not merely symbolic. It is essential for addressing diverse perspectives and fostering mutual understanding. It is important to have members of the Tamil, Muslim and other minority communities, and women who are 52 percent of the population, appointed to important decision making bodies, especially those tasked with national recovery. Without such representation, the risk is that the very communities most affected by the crisis will remain unheard, and old grievances will be reproduced in new forms. The invitation extended to civil society to participate in the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force is an important beginning. Whether it becomes a turning point will depend on whether the government chooses to make inclusion a principle of governance rather than treat it as a show of concession made under pressure.

by Jehan Perera

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Reservoir operation and flooding

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Floods caused by Cyclone Ditwah

Former Director General of Irrigation, G.T. Dharmasena, in an article, titled “Revival of Innovative systems for reservoir operation and flood forecasting” in The Island of 17 December, 2025, starts out by stating:

“Most reservoirs in Sri Lanka are agriculture and hydropower dominated. Reservoir operators are often unwilling to acknowledge the flood detention capability of major reservoirs during the onset of monsoons. Deviating from the traditional priority for food production and hydropower development, it is time to reorient the operational approach of major reservoirs operators under extreme events, where flood control becomes a vital function. While admitting that total elimination of flood impacts is not technically feasible, the impacts can be reduced by efficient operation of reservoirs and effective early warning systems”.

Addressing the question often raised by the public as to “Why is flooding more prominent downstream of reservoirs compared to the period before they were built,” Mr. Dharmasena cites the following instances: “For instance, why do (sic) Magama in Tissamaharama face floods threats after the construction of the massive Kirindi Oya reservoir? Similarly, why does Ambalantota flood after the construction of Udawalawe Reservoir? Furthermore, why is Molkawa, in the Kalutara District area, getting flooded so often after the construction of Kukule reservoir”?

“These situations exist in several other river basins, too. Engineers must, therefore, be mindful of the need to strictly control the operation of the reservoir gates by their field staff. (Since) “The actual field situation can sometimes deviate significantly from the theoretical technology… it is necessary to examine whether gate operators are strictly adhering to the operational guidelines, as gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”.

COMMENT

For Mr. Dharmasena to bring to the attention of the public that “gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”, is being disingenuous, after accepting flooding as a way of life for ALL major reservoirs for decades and not doing much about it. As far as the public is concerned, their expectation is that the Institution responsible for Reservoir Management should, not only develop the necessary guidelines to address flooding but also ensure that they are strictly administered by those responsible, without leaving it to the arbitrary discretion of field staff. This exercise should be reviewed annually after each monsoon, if lives are to be saved and livelihoods are to be sustained.

IMPACT of GATE OPERATION on FLOODING

According to Mr. Dhamasena, “Major reservoir spillways are designed for very high return periods… If the spillway gates are opened fully when reservoir is at full capacity, this can produce an artificial flood of a very large magnitude… Therefore, reservoir operators must be mindful in this regard to avoid any artificial flood creation” (Ibid). Continuing, he states: “In reality reservoir spillways are often designed for the sole safety of the reservoir structure, often compromising the safety of the downstream population. This design concept was promoted by foreign agencies in recent times to safeguard their investment for dams. Consequently, the discharge capacities of these spill gates significantly exceed the natural carrying capacity of river(s) downstream” (Ibid).

COMMENT

The design concept where priority is given to the “sole safety of the structure” that causes the discharge capacity of spill gates to “significantly exceed” the carrying capacity of the river is not limited to foreign agencies. Such concepts are also adopted by local designers as well, judging from the fact that flooding is accepted as an inevitable feature of reservoirs. Since design concepts in their current form lack concern for serious destructive consequences downstream and, therefore, unacceptable, it is imperative that the Government mandates that current design criteria are revisited as a critical part of the restoration programme.

CONNECTIVITY BETWEEN GATE OPENINGS and SAFETY MEASURES

It is only after the devastation of historic proportions left behind by Cyclone Ditwah that the Public is aware that major reservoirs are designed with spill gate openings to protect the safety of the structure without factoring in the consequences downstream, such as the safety of the population is an unacceptable proposition. The Institution or Institutions associated with the design have a responsibility not only to inform but also work together with Institutions such as Disaster Management and any others responsible for the consequences downstream, so that they could prepare for what is to follow.

Without working in isolation and without limiting it only to, informing related Institutions, the need is for Institutions that design reservoirs to work as a team with Forecasting and Disaster Management and develop operational frameworks that should be institutionalised and approved by the Cabinet of Ministers. The need is to recognize that without connectivity between spill gate openings and safety measures downstream, catastrophes downstream are bound to recur.

Therefore, the mandate for dam designers and those responsible for disaster management and forecasting should be for them to jointly establish guidelines relating to what safety measures are to be adopted for varying degrees of spill gate openings. For instance, the carrying capacity of the river should relate with a specific openinig of the spill gate. Another specific opening is required when the population should be compelled to move to high ground. The process should continue until the spill gate opening is such that it warrants the population to be evacuated. This relationship could also be established by relating the spill gate openings to the width of the river downstream.

The measures recommended above should be backed up by the judicious use of the land within the flood plain of reservoirs for “DRY DAMS” with sufficient capacity to intercept part of the spill gate discharge from which excess water could be released within the carrying capacity of the river. By relating the capacity of the DRY DAM to the spill gate opening, a degree of safety could be established. However, since the practice of demarcating flood plains is not taken seriously by the Institution concerned, the Government should introduce a Bill that such demarcations are made mandatory as part of State Land in the design and operation of reservoirs. Adopting such a practice would not only contribute significantly to control flooding, but also save lives by not permitting settlement but permitting agricultural activities only within these zones. Furthermore, the creation of an intermediate zone to contain excess flood waters would not tax the safety measures to the extent it would in the absence of such a safety net.

CONCLUSION

Perhaps, the towns of Kotmale and Gampola suffered severe flooding and loss of life because the opening of spill gates to release the unprecedented volumes of water from Cyclone Ditwah, was warranted by the need to ensure the safety of Kotmale and Upper Kotmale Dams.

This and other similar disasters bring into focus the connectivity that exists between forecasting, operation of spill gates, flooding and disaster management. Therefore, it is imperative that the government introduce the much-needed legislative and executive measures to ensure that the agencies associated with these disciplines develop a common operational framework to mitigate flooding and its destructive consequences. A critical feature of such a framework should be the demarcation of the flood plain, and decree that land within the flood plain is a zone set aside for DRY DAMS, planted with trees and free of human settlements, other than for agricultural purposes. In addition, the mandate of such a framework should establish for each river basin the relationship between the degree to which spill gates are opened with levels of flooding and appropriate safety measures.

The government should insist that associated Agencies identify and conduct a pilot project to ascertain the efficacy of the recommendations cited above and if need be, modify it accordingly, so that downstream physical features that are unique to each river basin are taken into account and made an integral feature of reservoir design. Even if such restrictions downstream limit the capacities to store spill gate discharges, it has to be appreciated that providing such facilities within the flood plain to any degree would mitigate the destructive consequences of the flooding.

By Neville Ladduwahetty

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Listening to the Language of Shells

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The ocean rarely raises its voice. Instead, it leaves behind signs — subtle, intricate and enduring — for those willing to observe closely. Along Sri Lanka’s shores, these signs often appear in the form of seashells: spiralled, ridged, polished by waves, carrying within them the quiet history of marine life. For Marine Naturalist Dr. Malik Fernando, these shells are not souvenirs of the sea but storytellers, bearing witness to ecological change, resilience and loss.

“Seashells are among the most eloquent narrators of the ocean’s condition,” Dr. Fernando told The Island. “They are biological archives. If you know how to read them, they reveal the story of our seas, past and present.”

A long-standing marine conservationist and a member of the Marine Subcommittee of the Wildlife & Nature Protection Society (WNPS), Dr. Fernando has dedicated much of his life to understanding and protecting Sri Lanka’s marine ecosystems. While charismatic megafauna often dominate conservation discourse, he has consistently drawn attention to less celebrated but equally vital marine organisms — particularly molluscs, whose shells are integral to coastal and reef ecosystems.

“Shells are often admired for their beauty, but rarely for their function,” he said. “They are homes, shields and structural components of marine habitats. When shell-bearing organisms decline, it destabilises entire food webs.”

Sri Lanka’s geographical identity as an island nation, Dr. Fernando says, is paradoxically underrepresented in national conservation priorities. “We speak passionately about forests and wildlife on land, but our relationship with the ocean remains largely extractive,” he noted. “We fish, mine sand, build along the coast and pollute, yet fail to pause and ask how much the sea can endure.”

Through his work with the WNPS Marine Subcommittee, Dr. Fernando has been at the forefront of advocating for science-led marine policy and integrated coastal management. He stressed that fragmented governance and weak enforcement continue to undermine marine protection efforts. “The ocean does not recognise administrative boundaries,” he said. “But unfortunately, our policies often do.”

He believes that one of the greatest challenges facing marine conservation in Sri Lanka is invisibility. “What happens underwater is out of sight, and therefore out of mind,” he said. “Coral bleaching, mollusc depletion, habitat destruction — these crises unfold silently. By the time the impacts reach the shore, it is often too late.”

Seashells, in this context, become messengers. Changes in shell thickness, size and abundance, Dr. Fernando explained, can signal shifts in ocean chemistry, rising temperatures and increasing acidity — all linked to climate change. “Ocean acidification weakens shells,” he said. “It is a chemical reality with biological consequences. When shells grow thinner, organisms become more vulnerable, and ecosystems less stable.”

Climate change, he warned, is no longer a distant threat but an active force reshaping Sri Lanka’s marine environment. “We are already witnessing altered breeding cycles, migration patterns and species distribution,” he said. “Marine life is responding rapidly. The question is whether humans will respond wisely.”

Despite the gravity of these challenges, Dr. Fernando remains an advocate of hope rooted in knowledge. He believes public awareness and education are essential to reversing marine degradation. “You cannot expect people to protect what they do not understand,” he said. “Marine literacy must begin early — in schools, communities and through public storytelling.”

It is this belief that has driven his involvement in initiatives that use visual narratives to communicate marine science to broader audiences. According to Dr. Fernando, imagery, art and heritage-based storytelling can evoke emotional connections that data alone cannot. “A well-composed image of a shell can inspire curiosity,” he said. “Curiosity leads to respect, and respect to protection.”

Shells, he added, also hold cultural and historical significance in Sri Lanka, having been used for ornamentation, ritual objects and trade for centuries. “They connect nature and culture,” he said. “By celebrating shells, we are also honouring coastal communities whose lives have long been intertwined with the sea.”

However, Dr. Fernando cautioned against romanticising the ocean without acknowledging responsibility. “Celebration must go hand in hand with conservation,” he said. “Otherwise, we risk turning heritage into exploitation.”

He was particularly critical of unregulated shell collection and commercialisation. “What seems harmless — picking up shells — can have cumulative impacts,” he said. “When multiplied across thousands of visitors, it becomes extraction.”

As Sri Lanka continues to promote coastal tourism, Dr. Fernando emphasised the need for sustainability frameworks that prioritise ecosystem health. “Tourism must not come at the cost of the very environments it depends on,” he said. “Marine conservation is not anti-development; it is pro-future.”

Dr. Malik Fernando

Reflecting on his decades-long engagement with the sea, Dr. Fernando described marine conservation as both a scientific pursuit and a moral obligation. “The ocean has given us food, livelihoods, climate regulation and beauty,” he said. “Protecting it is not an act of charity; it is an act of responsibility.”

He called for stronger collaboration between scientists, policymakers, civil society and the private sector. “No single entity can safeguard the ocean alone,” he said. “Conservation requires collective stewardship.”

Yet, amid concern, Dr. Fernando expressed cautious optimism. “Sri Lanka still has immense marine wealth,” he said. “Our reefs, seagrass beds and coastal waters are resilient, if given a chance.”

Standing at the edge of the sea, shells scattered along the sand, one is reminded that the ocean does not shout its warnings. It leaves behind clues — delicate, enduring, easily overlooked. For Dr. Malik Fernando, those clues demand attention.

“The sea is constantly communicating,” he said. “In shells, in currents, in changing patterns of life. The real question is whether we, as a society, are finally prepared to listen — and to act before silence replaces the story.”

 

By Ifham Nizam

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