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Lesser-known Stories from the Early Days of Sri Lankan Cinema

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2 years ago

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Rio Cinema Slave Island

The Silenced Era

by Hasini Haputhanthri
(From Shared ENCOUNTERS in Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Thailand – International Centre for Ethnic Studies)

A Gentleman from Jaffna

Watching Sound of Music at Rio Cinema, Colombo was an unforgettable childhood recollection for Swarna Pathirage. “My favorite song was ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ where Liesel jumps from bench to bench in the summer house with Rolf,” she says.

Swarna is now sixty-two, a matriarch , and busy with her grandchild. The memory swiftly takes her to her childhood and at the center of this memory is one Mr Dharmalingam, affectionately referred to as Dharme uncle.

Dharme uncle was a paying guest, or ‘a boarder’ in Swarna’s home for many years. They are a Sinhalese Buddhist family from Kalutara, a town two hours South of Colombo and Mr Dharmalingam was a Tamil Hindu gentleman from Jaffna. Dharme uncle was the manager of Rio Cinema, Colombo. This meant royal treatment every time the family visited Rio for a show.

“Dharme uncle always had icy chocs for us at the show. We used to eat it in the airconditioned cinema, with our teeth chattering. He used to tell us that eating ice cream in the AC actually makes you feel warmer. And it’s true!” says Swarna.

In the 1970s in Ceylon, the world’s first woman premier, Mrs. Sirima Bandaranaike was back in power for a second term, and driving even more radical policies; nationalizing industries, pursuing land reforms, restricting imports and changing the constitution and the name of the island from Ceylon to Sri Lanka.

After a while, Dharme uncle married and moved away. “We didn’t have telephones those days. So, we lost touch.” There’s a hint of regret in Swarna’s admission.

Things got much worse in Sri Lanka in the 1980s. It explains why the family perhaps did not keep in touch with their friend. The island nation with a majority Sinhalese Buddhist population sank into a quagmire of ethnic conflict, racism and corruption, the consequences of which are being experienced by everyone sharing the island, presently. Revisiting the political past of her island nation is not as enjoyable as recalling her childhood memories for Swarna. Her brows furrow and her mood swiftly changes.

Post-independent Ceylon had many factors that pushed people apart. In 1956, language, a prime connector of social groups, was made into a divider almost overnight with the Sinhala Only Act. Alternatively known as the Official Language Act, it was a landmark piece of legislation that made Sinhala the sole official language of the island, replacing English, which had been the administrative language during British colonial rule. The Act led to grievances among the Tamil-speaking community, as they felt marginalized and disadvantaged due to the dominance of Sinhala in official matters.

Similarly, religion became increasingly associated with separate ethnolinguistic groups. Though Swarna’s family and Dharmalingam had managed to transcend these differences, the country plunged into a mire of heightened ethno-religious and linguistic nationalisms. Differences became insurmountable divisions. Social connectors weakened as dividers were inflamed through an array of political decisions and cultural movements.

“The world has changed. I can’t remember the last time I was at a cinema. I was horrified to find out that Rio was torched in the ’83 riots.” Swarna’s visible discomfort signals the end of a conversation, as well as the end of an era.

Re-discovering Rio

Today, Rio Cinema huddles amidst the bustling Slave Island quarter of Colombo. The area is now officially known as Kompannavidiya, but the name Slave Island, which reflects the area’s colonial legacy, is still used by many who inhabit the neighborhood. According to popular belief, there was a slave uprising in the 17th century, which resulted in them being confined to an area that subsequently became known as Slave Island.

However, according to researchers, the area’s name most likely originated from the fact that slaves working for the VOC had resided there at least since the early 1700s. Thus the area is a historian’s paradise, brimming with stories old and new, with and several visual layers easily detectable for anyone with an eye for detail: There are the bo trees, temples and kovils, serene and detached from the present chaos.

The run-down shop houses and derelict residential buildings, still pull off star presence without a lick of paint in years. Colonial structures, offices and warehouses add another distinctive layer. The old and new melt into each other in Slave Island, creating a heady mix that can easily throw you off your trail and pull you into colorful, competing anecdotes. The bright murals from the 2022 protests and the rising skyscrapers ambushing the neighborhood beckon with their stories.

But for now, let’s stay with the Rio.

When the cinema opened in February 1965, a journalist from the Ceylon Daily News raved: “As for being an average theater, the Rio is not…The seats are unobstructed, large and comfortable, upholstered in foam rubber and creamy-beige rexine, with satinwood arms…the vertically operated screen is a beauty.” Starting with the screening of the movie South Pacific, the Rio went on to create many memorable moments for its audiences, regaling them with classics such as Sound of Music and West Side Story on a 70mm screen.

The cinema is currently owned by Mr Ratnaraja Navaratnam. “It was my grandfather Appapillai, who started Navah Cinema in 1951 and then Rio. The theater is still in the same family,” he reminisces. Memories are bittersweet for the Navaratnams; the glory days when Rio was a plush venue for the crème de la crème of Colombo came to an end by the late 70s.

The National Film Corporation, established in 1972 with the aim of promoting ‘truly local cinema’, took over film distribution. International studios such as 20th Century Fox started boycotting the country. Navaratnam’s business started faltering. The deepest blow, however, came in the ugly form of Black July in 1983, the racial riots that sparked a long-drawn civil war, during which Rio, together with several other film halls owned by Tamils, were set ablaze by mobs of Sinhalese thugs as the Navaratnams were Tamil.

“My father was very hurt. More than the financial loss, he felt betrayed. He had done so much for the community and for this to happen in his own neighborhood was very saddening,” says Navaratnam. In the grim aftermath of the ’83 riots, the Navaratnams migrated to Australia, following the exodus of many Tamil families from all over the island. The silver screens of Colombo lost their glow.

However, the third son of the Navaratnam family held on to the charred building. “I never left Slave Island. I was born here. These days it is more harmonious. Slave Island has a vibrant population, with Sinhala, Muslim and Tamil people all living together. You find the mosques, temples, and churches all within each other’s reach. People coexist without any problem at all,” says Navaratnam.

Today, Rio Cinema wears a tragic air, with fading memories of glamor echoing in the empty hall. The dark corridors remind one of the murky skies filled with smoke; remnants of the fires lit during the riots. The cinema still makes it to Colombo’s social calendar once in a way, when a pop-up exhibition, a musical gig or an art festival seeking a venue off the beaten track takes place, and for a fleeting moment, Rio breathes.

Cinema in Colonial Ceylon: Pioneers

Today, many are unaware that cinema in Ceylon drew in the strengths of all its communities as well as its neighbors in its early days. It is a story of how new technology created space for harmony leading to immense creativity and beauty, and how nationalist politics eventually spelt doom for a thriving industry.

The most overlooked yet indomitable pioneer of the industry comes from the Bohra community. The Bohras are a small but affluent denomination within Sri Lanka’s Muslim community; one of many such smaller communities that blended into the social fabric of Ceylon, while maintaining their own distinctive identity. We have forgotten and lost a lot to history, but by what little is documented we know that T.A.J. Noorbhai was a force to reckon with.

He was referred to as a ‘general merchant’ in official colonial documentation. Noorbhai seemed to have made his wealth through his other business ventures, by the time he got feverishly invested in show-biz. He was a man of importance in the Colombo business community, dominated mostly by merchant families with Indian origins at the turn of the 20th century. For instance, he was called upon to deliver a vote of thanks at the opening ceremony of the Chalmers Warehouses in Pettah, declared open by Governor Robert Chalmers in 1915. Noorbhai was one of the first to set up a cinema hall and go into local film production.

Some accounts indicate that Noorbhai set up a cinema named London Bioscope, even before he moved to Southern Road in Maradana, transforming a former theater hall named Criterion to Olympia Cinema which opened on July 5, 1918. According to advertisements placed in Daily News, it was declared open by the Acting Governor at the time. The Eastern Theatre Company, which Noorbhai established, is one of the earliest film production companies of Ceylon.

The company imported and screened silent films to local audiences. Eventually, Noorbhai built a new cinema in Wellawatta. In 1923, Noorbhai was embroiled in a court case, against a so-called American filmmaker, Captain Salisbury, alias Duke Zellers. In his enthusiasm for film production, Noorbhai was swindled out of a large sum of money and film equipment he had invested in. Although the court ruled in favor of Noorbhai, the funds and camera equipment stolen were never recovered.

One might think this bitter experience may throw Noorbhai off film production forever. But we find him two years later, producing the first ever Ceylonese feature film, Rajakeeya Wickramaya (The Royal Adventure, also known as Shanta, 1925). When looking back on film history, the island mostly talks about the talkies, beginning with Kadadwunu Poronduwa (The Broken Promise, 1947), and Noorbhai’s attempts seem to get lost.

In a twist of fate, The Royal Adventure, though completed successfully and screened in Singapore and India, never made it to the island’s silver screens. On its way to Ceylon on a ship, the reels were destroyed in a fire. Some say that it was deliberately set on fire, by those who resented the success of Noorbhai. It is difficult to trace a verified sequence due to disparities in different sources, but what is clear is that Noorbhai shaped the early film industry, by setting up theater halls, filming studios, importing film equipment and investing in both film production and distribution.

There are other stories that may never be fully recovered. For instance, who was the beautiful Burgher actress cast as the heroine of the show? Some sources mention her name as Sybil Feam, others Sybil Pete. We will never really know who this mysterious first-ever Sri Lankan actress of the silver screen was. But what we do gather from all the silenced, erased and forgotten stories is the unmistakable narrative of how Bohras and Burghers, Sinhalese and Tamils, Ceylonese and Indians shaped the early days of cinema in Sri Lanka.

Newcomers from Jaffna

As the magic of cinema grew by the second decade of the 20th century, generating lucrative profits, film production and distribution became exclusively the domain of the rich. Those who entered it earlier tended to monopolize the industry. In a colonial world where hierarchy was the order of the day, the rich were the colonial powers themselves. Local entrepreneurs, like Noorbhai, though affluent by local standards, still had to hustle with foreign distribution companies and compete with bigger Indian film Moghuls like J.F. Madan with his film circuit flung across the empire from India to Indonesia. Setting up locally owned production and distribution companies required people cut out for the big game.

It was into this arena full of sharks that two local boys from Jaffna entered and made their name. Chittampalam Abraham Gardiner and Alfred Leo Savarimuttu Tambiah were both born in Jaffna and came from the educated Tamil upper class. They were both in their twenties when they changed the scene for Sri Lankan cinema. In 1928, Gardiner and Tambiah formed Ceylon Theatres, a turning point in the film industry in Ceylon. Today, Ceylon Theatres or CT Holdings is one of the largest conglomerates in the island, managing many cinemas, including Majestic City Cineplex, banks and several other subsidiary ventures.

Ceylon Theaters played a critical role in establishing local film production and distribution, directly financing many early Ceylonese films such as Asokamala, which was the second talkie to be released after Kadawunu Poronduwa. Gardiner went on to support Lester James Peiris’ Rekhava, considered the first realistic Sinhala film that broke the mold of commercial cinema, paving the way for films to become not just mass entertainment aimed at profit-making but a form of art. Language and ethnicity did not limit the worldview of the likes of Gardiner and Tambiah. For them, contributing to a thriving local film industry, strong enough to compete with the regional powerhouses of Bollywood and Kollywood, was the aim.

Knighted by the Pope later in life, Gardiner was universally acknowledged as the father of the Sri Lankan film industry. When he passed away in the 1960s, all cinema halls across the country closed down in mourning, and Parson’s Road where Ceylon Theatre’s first cinema Regal was established, was renamed Sir Chittampalam A. Gardiner Mawatha in his memory. He was luckier than Noorbhai in that regard, whose pioneering work is barely acknowledged.

(To be continued next week)


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Features

The middle-class money trap: Why looking rich keeps Sri Lankans poor

Published

20 hours ago

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2026/01/21

By

Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/DLmfO0mqGoL/

Every January, we make grand resolutions about our finances. We promise ourselves we’ll save more, spend less, and finally get serious about investments. By March, most of these promises were abandoned, alongside our unused gym memberships.

The problem isn’t our intentions, it’s our approach. We treat financial management as a personality flaw that needs fixing, rather than a skill that needs the right strategy. This year let’s try something different. Let’s put actual behavioural science behind how we handle our rupees.

Based on the article ‘Seven proven, realistic ways to improve your finances in 2026’ published on 1news.co.nz, I aim to adapt these recommended financial strategies to the Sri Lankan context.” Here are seven money habits that work because they’re grounded in how humans actually behave, not how we wish we would.

While these strategies offer useful direction for strengthening personal financial management, it is important to acknowledge that they may not be suitable for everyone. Many households face severe financial pressure and cannot realistically follow traditional income allocation frameworks, such as the well-known but outdated Singalovada Sutta guidelines, when even meeting daily food expenses has become a struggle. For individuals and families who are burdened by escalating costs of essentials, including electricity, water, mobile connectivity, transport, and other non-negotiable commitments, strict adherence to prescriptive models is neither practical nor fair to expect. Therefore, readers should remain mindful of their own financial realities and adapt these strategies in ways that align with their income levels, essential obligations, and broader personal circumstances.

1. Your Money Problems Aren’t Moral Failures, They’re Data Points

When every rupee misspent becomes evidence of personal failure, we stop looking for solutions. Shame is a terrible problem-solver. It makes us hide from our bank statements, avoid difficult conversations, and repeat the same mistakes because we’re too embarrassed to examine them.

Instead, try replacing judgment with curiosity. Transform “I’m terrible with money” into “That’s interesting, why did I make that choice?” Suddenly, mistakes become information rather than indictments. You might notice you overspend at Odel or high-end restaurant when stressed about work. Or that you commit to expensive plans when feeling socially pressured. Perhaps your online shopping peaks during power cuts when you’re bored and frustrated.

2. Forget the Year-Long Marathon, Focus on 90-Day Sprints

A Sri Lankan year is densely packed with financial obligations: Sinhala/Tamil Avurudu, Christmas, Vesak, and Poson celebrations; recurring school fees; seasonal festival shopping; wedding and almsgiving periods; yearend festivities; and an evergrowing list of marketing-driven occasions such as Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, and many others. Each of these events carries its own financial weight, often placing additional pressure on already-stretched household budgets.

Research consistently shows that shorter time frames work better. Ninety days is long enough to create a meaningful change, but short enough to maintain focus and momentum. So instead of one overwhelming annual goal, give yourself four quarterly upgrades.

In the first quarter, the focus may be on organising your contributions toward key duties and responsibilities, while also ensuring that you are maximising the available benefits for your designated beneficiaries. Quarter two could be about building a small emergency fund, even Rs. 10,000 provides breathing room. Quarter three might involve auditing your bills and subscriptions to eliminate unnecessary expenses. Quarter four could be when you finally start that investment you’ve been postponing. You don’t need superhuman discipline or complicated spreadsheets, just focused attention, one quarter at a time.

3. Make One Decision That Eliminates Weekly Worry

The best money decisions are the ones you make once but benefit from repeatedly. These are decisions that permanently reduce what behavioural economists call “decision fatigue”, the mental exhaustion that comes from constantly managing money in your head. What’s one choice you could make today that would remove a recurring financial worry?

It might be setting up an automatic standing order to transfer Rs. 10,000 to savings the day your salary arrives, before you can spend it. Maybe it’s consolidating your scattered savings accounts into one that actually pays decent return.

These aren’t dramatic moves that require personality transplants. They’re structural decisions that work with your human tendency toward inertia rather than against it. Most banks now offer seamless digital automation. You can set it up once and benefit from that decision every single month without additional effort or willpower. You make the decision once. You benefit all year. That’s leveraging your energy intelligently.

4. Stop Spending on Who You Think You Should Be

Sri Lankan society comes with heavy expectations. The car you drive, the school your children attend, the hotels you patronise, the brands you wear, all communicate your worth, or so we’re told. Much of our spending isn’t about actual enjoyment. It’s about meeting unspoken expectations, keeping up appearances, or aspiring to a version of us that doesn’t actually exist.

We buy expensive saris we’ll wear once because everyone does. We maintain memberships to clubs we rarely visit because it looks good. We say yes to weekend plans at overpriced restaurants because declining feels like admitting we can’t afford it. We upgrade phones not because ours stopped working, but because others have.

Before your next purchase, ask yourself: do I actually want this, or do I want to want it? If it’s the second one, walk away. You won’t miss it. This isn’t about deprivation, it’s about precision. When you stop spending to perform and start spending to support the life you genuinely enjoy, money pressure eases dramatically. Your resources align with your actual values rather than imagined expectations.

Maybe you don’t care about fancy restaurants, but you love long drives along the southern coast. Maybe branded clothing leaves you cold, but you’d spend any amount on art supplies or books. That’s fine. Spend accordingly.

5. Break One Habit, See If You Actually Miss It

We’re creatures of routine, which serves us well until those routines outlive their usefulness. Sometimes we spend money on habits that started for good reasons but no longer serve us. Alpechchathava, in Buddha’s teaching, means living contentedly with few desires. It guides a person to manage money wisely by avoiding excess spending, unnecessary debt, and craving, and by focusing on essential needs and wholesome priorities. In this way, wealth supports mental cultivation, generosity, and spiritual progress.

The daily kottu roti that once felt like a convenient solution after working late may now have turned into an unnecessary routine. Similarly, frequent P&S or Caravan snack runs, and the habit of picking up sugary treats like cakes and sweets, are not only costly but also wellknown to be unhealthy, as nutritionists consistently point out. Beyond food, other expenses such as magazine subscriptions, the monthly coffee meetup, or weekend mall browsing often continue on autopilot without us realising how much they add up. These seemingly small, habitual expenses can quietly drain your budget while offering very little longterm value.

Try this experiment: keep a money diary for one week. Note every expense, no matter how small. Then identify one regular spend and eliminate it for the following week. If you don’t miss it? Excellent, keep it gone. If you genuinely miss it? Add it back without guilt. This isn’t about permanent sacrifice.

It’s about snapping yourself out of autopilot and checking whether your spending still reflects your current reality, priorities and purchasing power. You might discover you’re spending Rs. 15,000 monthly on things you barely notice.

6. Create Your Crisis Playbook on a Good Day

Many financial disasters don’t happen because we’re careless, they happen because we’re panicked. When crisis strikes, job loss, medical emergency, unexpected business downturn, fear hijacks our decision-making. Our rational brain exists while panic makes expensive choices: high-interest personal loans, selling investments at losses, making commitments we can’t sustain.

The solution? Make your crisis plan before the crisis arrives. On a calm day, sit down and document: If I lost my income tomorrow, what would I do first? Which expenses are truly essential? What’s the absolute minimum I need to function? Who could I call for advice? Which savings are untouchable, which could be accessed if necessary? What government support or loan restructuring options exist (Not in Sri Lanka)? This is a sort of preparation for sudden shocks.

7. Question the Money Stories You Inherited

Sometimes our biggest financial obstacles aren’t failed attempts, they’re the attempts we never make because we’ve internalised limiting stories. “Our family was never good with money.” “Investing is for rich people.” “I’m just not the type who earns more.” “Women don’t understand finance.” These narratives, absorbed from family, culture, or past experiences, become invisible fences.

Question them. Where did this belief originate? Is it actually true, or is it a story you’ve been telling yourself for so long, it feels like fact? What would happen if you tested it? Often, these stories protect us from the discomfort of trying and potentially failing. But they also protect us from the possibility of succeeding. And that’s a far costlier protection than most of us realise.

The Bottom Line

Improving your finances in 2026 doesn’t require becoming a different person. It requires understanding the person you already are, your patterns, triggers, and tendencies, and working with them rather than against them.

These aren’t magic solutions. They’re evidence-based approaches that acknowledge a simple truth: you’re not broken, and your money management doesn’t need fixing through willpower alone. It needs better systems, clearer thinking, and a lot less shame.

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Features

Public scepticism regarding paediatric preventive interventions

Published

20 hours ago

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2026/01/21

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A significant portion of the history of paediatrics is a triumph of prevention. From the simple act of washing hands to the miracle of vaccines, preventive strategies have been the unsung heroes, drastically lowering child mortality rates and setting the stage for healthier, longer lives across the globe. Simple measures like promoting personal hygiene, ensuring the proper use of toilets, and providing Vitamin K immediately after birth to prevent dangerous bleeding, have profound impacts. Advanced interventions like inhalers for asthma, robust trauma care systems, and even cutting-edge genetic manipulations are testament to the relentless and wonderful progress of paediatric science.

A shining beacon that has signified increased survival and marked reductions in mortality across the board in all paediatric age groups has been the development of various preventive strategies in the science of children’s health, from newborns to adolescents. The institution of such proven measures across the globe, has resulted in gains that are almost too good to be true. From a Sri Lankan perspective, these measures have contributed towards the unbelievable reduction of the under-5-year mortality rate from over 100 per 1000 live births in the 1960s to the seminal single-digit figure of 07 per 1000 live births in the 2020s.

Yet for all this, despite the overwhelming evidence of success, a most worrying trend is emerging. That is public scepticism and pessimism regarding these vital interventions. This doubt is not a benign phenomenon; it poses a real danger to the health of our children. At the heart of this challenge lies the potent, often insidious, spread of misinformation and disinformation.

The success of any preventive health strategy in paediatrics rests not just on its scientific efficacy, but on parental cooperation and commitment. When parents hesitate or refuse to follow recommended guidelines, the shield of prevention is compromised. Today, the most potent threat to this partnership is the flood of false information.

Misinformation is false information spread unintentionally. A well-meaning friend sharing a rumour about a vaccine side-effect they heard online is spreading misinformation.

Disinformation is false information deliberately created and disseminated to cause harm or sow doubt. This often comes from organised groups or individuals with vested interests; sometimes financial, sometimes ideological, who seek to undermine public trust in medical institutions and scientific consensus.

The digital age, particularly social media, has become the prime breeding ground for these falsehoods. Complex scientific data is reduced to emotionally charged, simplistic, and often sensationalist soundbites that travel faster and farther than the truth.

The most visible battleground is childhood vaccination. Decades of robust, high-quality research have confirmed vaccines as one of the most cost-effective and successful public health interventions ever conceived. Global vaccination efforts have saved an estimated 150 million lives in the past 50 years, eradicating or drastically controlling diseases like polio, measles, diphtheria, and tetanus.

However, a single, long-retracted, and scientifically debunked paper claiming a link between the Measles-Mumps-Rubella (MMR) vaccine and autism continues to be weaponised by disinformation campaigns. This persistent myth, despite being soundly disproven, taps into deep-seated fears about children’s development. Other common vaccine myths target ingredients such as trace amounts of aluminium or mercury, which are harmless in the quantities used and often less than what is naturally found in food or the idea that “natural immunity” from infection is superior, totally ignoring the fact that natural infection carries the devastating risk of severe complications, long-term disability, and even death. The tangible consequence of this doubt is the dropping of childhood vaccination rates in various communities, leading to the wholly unnecessary re-emergence of vaccine-preventable diseases like measles.

Scepticism is not limited to vaccines. It can touch any area of paediatric preventive care where an intervention might seem unnecessary, invasive, or have perceived risks. Routine screenings for speech disorders, motor skills, or mental health issues can sometimes be perceived as medicalising normal childhood variations or putting a “label” on a child. Parents may resist or delay screening, missing the critical window for early intervention of proven measures that are likely to help. Advice on managing childhood obesity, reducing screen time, or adopting a balanced diet can be viewed by some parents as intrusive or judgmental, leading to poor adherence to essential health-promoting behaviours.

The regular use of inhalers for asthma or other chronic conditions might be looked down upon due to the fear of “dependency”, “addiction”, or long-term side effects, despite medical consensus that these preventive measures keep conditions controlled and prevent life-threatening exacerbations.

The common thread is a lack of understanding of the risk-benefit ratio. Parents, bombarded by fear-mongering narratives, often overestimate the rare, mild risks of an intervention while catastrophically underestimating the severe and permanent risks of the disease or condition itself.

The power of paediatric preventive medicine is not in a single shot or pill, but in the consistent, committed partnership between healthcare providers and parents. Paediatric science, driven by rigorous evidence-based medicine, do continue to refine guidelines, conduct transparent research, and communicate its findings clearly. When guidelines are confusing or lack robust evidence, it naturally creates openings for doubt. The scientific community’s commitment to continuous quality improvement and accessibility is paramount.

Ultimately, the success of prevention rests with the parents. Parenting, as a vital form of preventive care, includes all activities that raise happy, healthy, and capable children. The simple, non-medical steps mentioned in the introduction, proper handwashing, good sanitation, and encouraging exercise, are all forms of parental preventive intervention.

For more complex interventions, parental commitment requires several actions. They need to seek and trust the guidance provided by qualified healthcare professionals over anonymous, unsubstantiated online claims. They need to engage in an open dialogue by asking relevant questions and expressing concerns to doctors in an open, non-confrontational manner. A good healthcare provider will use this as an opportunity to educate and build trust, and not a portal to simply dismiss concerns. Then, of course, there is the spectre of adherence to various protocols and actions by the parents. These include consistently following recommended schedules, whether for well-child checkups, vaccinations, or daily medication protocols.

Addressing public scepticism requires a multi-pronged, collaborative strategy. It is not just about correcting false facts (debunking), but about building resilience against future falsehoods (prebunking). The single most influential voice in a parent’s decision-making process is their paediatrician or primary care provider. Clinicians must move beyond simply reciting facts. They need to use empathetic communication techniques, like Motivational Interviewing (MI), which focuses on active listening, validating parental concerns, and then collaboratively guiding them toward evidence-based decisions. For example, responding with, “I hear you’re worried about the side-effects you read about. Can I share what we know from decades of safety monitoring?” Being open about common, minor side effects such as a short-lasting fever after a vaccine pre-empts the shock and distrust that occurs when an expected, yet unmentioned, reaction happens.

Public health campaigns must go on the offensive, not just a defensive fact-checking spree. Teaching the general public how disinformation works, the use of “fake experts”, selective cherry-picked data, and conspiracy theories all add up to a most powerful form of inoculation (prebunking) against future exposure. Health institutions must simplify their communications and make verified, high-quality information easily accessible on platforms where parents are already looking.

Parents often trust their peers as much as their doctors. Engaging local community leaders, faith leaders, and even trusted social media influencers to share accurate, positive messages about paediatric health can shift the public narrative at a grassroots level. While protecting privacy, sharing aggregate data and stories about the dramatic decline in childhood diseases thanks to prevention can re-emphasise the collective good.

The battle against child mortality and morbidity has been one of the great human achievements, a testament to scientific ingenuity and collective effort. Today, the greatest threat to maintaining these gains is not a new virus, but a breakdown of trust fuelled by unchecked falsehoods.

Paediatric preventive interventions, from a cake of soap and a proper toilet to the most sophisticated genetic therapies, are the foundation of a healthy future for every child. To secure this future, the scientific community must remain transparent, the healthcare system must lead with empathy, and the public must commit to informed, critical thinking. By rejecting the noise of disinformation and embracing the clear, evidence-based consensus of science, we can ensure that every child continues to benefit from the life-saving progress that defines modern paediatrics. The well-being of the next generation demands nothing less than this renewed commitment.

Little children are not in a position to make abiding decisions regarding their health, especially regarding preventive strategies in health. It is ultimately the crucial decisions made by responsible parents regarding the health of their children that really matter. As doctors, our commitment is never to leave any child behind.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera  ✍️
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
Joint Editor, Sri Lanka Journal of Child Health
Section Editor, Ceylon Medical Journal

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Features

Attacks on PM vulgar, misogynistic; education reforms welcome

Published

20 hours ago

on

2026/01/21

By

PM Amarasuriya

We express our profound concern and deep outrage at the vulgar, misogynistic, and defamatory attacks being directed at the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya.

Dr. Harini Amarasuriya is not merely a political leader; she is a scholar, public intellectual, and lifelong advocate of social justice, equality, and education. Attempts to discredit her through personal abuse rather than reasoned policy debate are not only an insult to her, but an assault on democratic values, women’s leadership, and intellectual integrity in public life.

Such attacks are unjust and unethical, and they corrode democratic discourse. We are deeply disappointed that certain political actors and their supporters continue to rely on misinformation, prejudice, and emotional manipulation, instead of engaging in rational, evidence-based, and constructive debate.

Sri Lanka has already paid a heavy price for decades of politics rooted in fear, communal division, and sentiment-driven populism. The country’s economic collapse and social breakdown are the direct consequences of these failed approaches. The people decisively rejected this style of politics through the Aragalaya, signaling a clear demand for change. Sri Lanka now stands at a historic turning point. After decades of corruption, ethnic manipulation, and policy paralysis, the people have given a clear mandate for systemic reform.

At this critical moment, Sri Lanka urgently needs structural reforms, particularly in education, which is the foundation of long-term national development, social mobility, and global competitiveness. Yet we observe that the very forces responsible for the country’s decline are once again attempting to block or derail reforms by exploiting religious, cultural, and emotional narratives.

We strongly affirm that no nation can be rebuilt through hatred, fear, or division. Education reform is not a political threat; it is a national necessity. Efforts to undermine reform through personal attacks and manufactured controversies serve only those who seek to return to power by keeping the country weak, divided, and intellectually impoverished.

Those who now attack Dr. Harini Amarasuriya are not defending culture or morality. They are defending privilege and political survival. Having failed the country for over seventy-five years through communalism, patronage, and anti-intellectualism, they now fear that an educated, critical, and empowered generation will render their outdated politics irrelevant.

This is why they target:

=a woman,

=an academic,

=and a reformer.

We therefore state clearly that we:

1. Condemn all forms of character assassination, gender-based attacks, and hate propaganda against the Prime Minister and Minister of Education.

2. Affirm our full support for Dr. Harini Amarasuriya’s leadership in advancing Sri Lanka’s education reforms.

3. Urge the government to proceed firmly and without retreat in implementing the proposed education reforms, in line with national policy and the public mandate.

4. Call upon academics, professionals, teachers, parents, and citizens to stand together against reactionary forces that seek to sabotage reform through fear mongering and disinformation.

A country cannot be rebuilt by those who destroyed it. A future cannot be created by those who fear education reforms.

Sri Lanka’s future must not be sacrificed for the ambitions of a few.Sri Lanka must move forward — with knowledge, dignity, and courage.

Signatories:

1. Markandu Thiruvathavooran, Attorney at law

2. S. Arivalzahan, University of Jaffna

3. Dr S.Ramesh, University of Jaffna

4. Dr. Mariadas Alfred, Former Dean, University of Peradeniya

5. Prof B.Nimalathasan, Senior Professor, University of Jaffna

6. S. Srivakeesan, Station Master, SriLankan Railways

7. A. T. Aravinthan, Branch Manager, Commercial Bank

8. Dr. S. Niththiyaruban, Paediatrician, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna

9. Dr. S. Selvaganesh, Plastic and Reconstructive Surgeon, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna

10. Dr. S. Mathievaanan, Consultant Surgeon, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna

11. Prof. P. Iyngaran, University of Jaffna

12. Eng. M. Sooriasegaram, President, Education Development Consortium

13. Dr. S. Raviraj, Senior Consultant Surgeon, Former Dean, Faculty of Medicine, University, Jaffna.

14. Mr. Saminadan Wimal, University of Jaffna

15. Dr. A. Antonyrajan, University of Jaffna

16. P. Regno, Attorney at Law

17. Prof. J. Prince Jeyadevan, University of Jaffna

18. Prof. S. Muhunthan, University of Jaffna

19. Prof. R. Kapilan, University of Jaffna

20. Dr. S. Jeevasuthan, University of Jaffna

21. J.S. Thevaruban, University of Jaffna

22. S. Balaputhiran, University of Jaffna

23. Dr. N. Sivapalan, Retired Senior lecturer, University of Jaffna

24. I. P. Dhanushiyan, University of Jaffna

25. Dr. K. Thabotharan, University of Jaffna

26. Dr. Bahirathy J. Rasanen, University of Jaffna

27. Perinpanayagam Ronibus, Vice Secretary, Change Charitable Trust, Jaffna

28. Dr. S. Maheswaran, University of Peradeniya

29. Mr. S. Laleesan, Principal, Kopay Teachers’ College

30. Victor Antany, Teacher, Kilinochchi

31. K. Shanthakumar, Principal, Technical College, Vavuniya

32. S. Thirikaran, Principal, J/ Puttur Srisomaskanda College

33. Dr. T. Vannarajan, Advanced Technical Institute, Jaffna.

34. X. Don Bosco, Resource person, Piliyandala Educational Zone

35. K. Ravikumar, Regional Manager, Powerhands Pvt Ltd

36. Sathiyapriya Jeyaseelan, DO, Economist

37. A. Kalaichelvan, Chief Accountant, Animal Productive & Health

38. C. Vathanakumar, Retired Project Director

39. P. Kirupakaran, Department of Buildings (NP)

40. A. Antony Pilinton, David Peris Company, Jaffna

41. A. Muralietharan, Social Activist

42. Sinthuja Sritharan, Independent Researcher

43. T. Sritharan, Social Activist

44. Ms. Gnasakthi Sritharan, Social Activist

45. P. Thevatharsan, Management Service Officer

46. . S. Mohan, Social Activist

47. K. Jeyakumaran, Social Activist

48. Dr. N. Nithianandan, Chairman, Ratnam Foundation

49. George Antony Cristy, Social Activist

50. S. Thangarasa, Social Activist

51. N. Bhavan, Retd. Deputy Principal, Mahajana College

52. P. Muthulingam, Executive Director, Institute of Social Development, Kandy

53. M.K. Sivarajah, Social Activist

54. Mr. V. Sivalingam, Human Rights Activist

55. S. Jeyaganeshan, Samuthi Development Officer

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