Opinion

“Let My Country Awake …”

Published

2 months ago

2026/02/4

Sahan Weerasooriya

Where the mind is without fear, and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

– Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali, 35

As Sri Lanka marks seventy-seven years of independence, this moment demands more than flags, ceremonies, or familiar slogans. It demands memory, honesty, and moral courage. Once spoken of with affection and hope as Mother Lanka, the nation today increasingly resembles a wounded child—carried again and again across fragile hanging bridges, suspended between survival and collapse. This image is not new to our cultural consciousness. Long before today’s crises, Sri Lankans encountered it through literature and radio, most memorably in Henry Jayasena’s Hunuwataye Kathawa (1967), the Sinhala radio drama adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle, written during World War II (WWII), broadcast by Radio Ceylon and later staged across the island. Heard in village homes and city neighborhoods, the story quietly shaped a moral imagination we now seem to have forgotten.

In Hunuwataye Kathawa, a child is placed at the center of a chalk circle, claimed by two women. One is Natella, the biological mother who abandons the child during a moment of danger and later returns—not out of love, but driven by entitlement, inheritance, and power. The other is Grusha, a poor servant who risks everything to protect the child, feeding her, carrying her across perilous terrain, and choosing care over comfort. When ordered by the judge to pull the child out of the circle, Grusha refuses. She would rather let go than injure the child. Justice, the story teaches, belongs not to those who claim ownership most loudly, but to those who practice responsibility and restraint. For generations of Sri Lankans, this lesson entered the heart not through policy or economics, but through art.

Beneath Sri Lanka’s recurring failures lies a deeper wound: collective forgetfulness. It is indeed incredible how a nation colonised by foreign powers for over four centuries, battered by people’s insurrections and national struggles ever since, divided by a 30-year-long ethnic war, shaken by a Tsunami, inflamed by Easter Bombings 2019, hit by Covid-19 shutdown, and bankrupt by economic crisis, just to mention a few before the devastating Cyclone Ditwah that rocked the entire nation not many weeks ago, could be so forgetful of its tragedies. This insight was articulated with striking clarity by Dr. Arvind Subramanian, the former Chief Economic Advisor to the Government of India, speaking at an event organised by The Examiner in Colombo on Jan 21, 2026. Subramanian observed the nation’s troubling tendency to forget its own history—its tragedies, hard-earned lessons, and warnings—and to embrace uncritically whatever is new in a pattern-line manner. This historical amnesia traps Sri Lanka in vicious cycles of debt, dependency, and unscientific thinking. When memory fails, every crisis feels unprecedented; when learning fails, every mistake is repeated.

Consequently, after seventy-eight years of independence from the last colonial rule, Sri Lanka still stands inside that chalk circle. Mother Lanka, once admired for free education, public health, and social mobility, has over the decades been reduced to a wounded child carried across unstable political, economic, and environmental bridges. Different governments, armed with different ideologies and promises, have taken turns holding her. Some carried her carefully; others dropped her midway; still others claimed her loudly while burdening her with unsustainable debt, weakened institutions, superstitious demeanors, and short-term fixes that mortgaged the future. This mother-made-child nation was perpetually oscillating between collapse and recovery. Yet instead of healing her wounds, with every passing Independence Day, we repeatedly celebrated and argued over who owned her.

This long post-independence journey reveals two recurring patterns. There have been many Natella-like approaches—entitlement without responsibility, nationalism without sacrifice, populism without prudence. These abandon the child in moments of crisis, only to return when power, contracts, or prestige are at stake. Alongside them, however, there have also been Grusha-like moments—imperfect, painful, often unpopular, yet rooted in reform, discipline, and care. These moments prioritise institutions over personalities, education over spectacle, sustainability over extraction, science over superstitions, and responsibility over applause. They are the moments that keep the child alive. The thorough cleaning that the whole nation recently experienced with Cyclone Ditwah also reminds us, among many other lessons, about the power and the need of these Grusha-like moments. It reminds us that the real celebration of freedom requires not slogans but breaking free from Natella-like approaches and, after the immersion that she just experienced, that it is only possible in and through at least three kinds of voluntary and ongoing immersions (3P Immersions)—disciplines that reshape not only policy but also personal and national character—Immersion of Poverty, Immersion of Plurality, and Immersion of Prudence.

The immersion of poverty, both spiritual and material, is deeply rooted in Buddhist teaching of tanhaā and āśā—the restless craving for more than one truly needs or can sustain. It is that which enables us to be constantly mindful of ourselves, not only who we really were, who we actually are, and what we continue to become, but also what we are really in need of. Nationally speaking, it involves acknowledging the country’s geopolitical placement, the strengths of its proud history and civilisation, and the limitations of its repeated struggles and political dismay. While material realism, when faced honestly, disciplines excess and teaches gratitude for what we already have, the immersion in poverty should remind us about how greed can lead to corruption and about the illusion that fulfillment lies in accumulation. A nation that does not discern its desires with its own resources and real capacity—human, historical, cultural, and environmental—will always mortgage its future to satisfy temporary cravings. We must ask ourselves honestly: how different are we today from the colonial era, when our decisions were shaped by external powers, if we remain bound by foreign debts, external models, and a forgetting of our own identity?

The immersion of plurality should not be understood as a slogan, but as a lived ethic. Sri Lanka’s diversity of language, religion, culture, geography, and memory is not the problem; it is the unfinished promise. Sinhala and Tamil, Muslim and Burgher, Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, and Muslim, village and city, coast and hill—all belong to the child in the chalk circle. While Natella-like politics weaponise difference and division, pulling the child apart to claim possession, Grusha-like care holds plurality together, recognising that it is the unity in diversity that sustains, protects, and frees the child, carrying it safely home. Freedom figures like Siddi Lebbe, Veera Puran Appu, Sir Ponnambalam Ramanathan, Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam, C. W. W. Kannangara, T. B. Jayah, Anagarika Dharmapala, and D. S. Senanayake emerged from different faiths, languages, and regions, yet shared a common ethic: the country mattered more than self, party, or community. They were not perfect, but they were Grusha-like—unwilling to pull the child apart to prove ownership, willing instead to carry her patiently across danger.

Grusha-like care, therefore, holds plurality together, recognizing that no single group can carry the country alone. Rather, it is plurality which is the ground of freedom from coercion, selective justice, and hostage-taking—whether by professions, ideologies, or institutions that prioritize self-interest over the common good. It also demands freedom from resistance to positive change, especially when that resistance is motivated by private gain rather than the common welfare. A plural society asks: Does this serve the nation, or merely my group, my party, my advantage?

The immersion in prudence is perhaps the rarest and most neglected virtue. Prudence calls us to move from myth to science, from avidyā to vidyā, from superstition to evidence. Recent floods and landslides were not merely natural disasters; they were moral warnings. Thy painfully revealed what happens when desire overrides restraint, when planning ignores science, when land is abused, when short-term gain overrides long-term responsibility, and when development forgets sustainability. Freedom from disaster is inseparable from freedom from ignorance. Prudence teaches us to listen actively, speak intentionally, plan with evidence, build with environmental awareness, and govern with foresight. Prudence is not only about grand reforms; it is also very much about our everyday civic behaviour, such as how we treat Mother Earth and shared spaces.

For example, freedom from spitting on the ground, freedom from littering public places, and freedom from leaving behind what we refuse to clean or return. These are not small matters; they are indicators of whether people see the nation as a common home or as a place to be used and discarded. These are only a handful of many instances where we need to hear what JFK (John F. Kennedy) asked the Americans in 1961: “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country”. The WWII-devastated Japan’s development is not built merely on technology, but on discipline, as systems like 5S cultivate order, responsibility, and respect for shared space. Clean Sri Lanka and the proposed Education Reforms 2026 can become transformative moments—but only if truth replaces pretense, cooperation replaces cynicism, and ownership replaces vengeful rhetoric. Prudence allows a nation to appreciate its ownness—its history, institutions, cultural resources, and the agendas for the common good—without rejecting learning from the world. Without prudence, novelty becomes addiction, and reform becomes fashion.

Before the history repeats itself for another 77 years, either as a series of tragedy or comedy, it is important, therefore, to recognise that freedom from debt, disaster, and dependency (national or personal) is impossible without all three types of immersions working together—poverty of desire, plurality of belonging, and prudence of action. Initiatives such as education reform and Clean Sri Lanka offer genuine opportunities, but only if we cooperate, think long-term, and resist turning reform into another slogan. This raises an uncomfortable question: Do we truly want to be free? Or are we content to remain in the same rut, so long as ignorance is preserved, education is left unreformed, and distractions are supplied by a handful of greedy politicians—their vengeful rhetoric, their allies, lopsided media, and mushrooming content creators—while the powerful continue to benefit from it all? Freedom is demanding. It asks for memory, restraint, cooperation, and courage. Dependency, by contrast, is easy.

Therefore, the question before us is not who shouts the loudest, who claims patriotism most aggressively, or who promises instant miracles. It is who remembers, who renounces, who embraces plurality, and who acts with prudence as her stewards and not owners. When are we going to immerse ourselves in these three immersions and be free? After Rabindranath Tagore’s poem, W. D. Amaradeva once sang, “Patu adahasnam paurinen lokaya kabaliwalata nobedi, jnanaya iwahal we… Ehew nidahase swarga rajyataṭ, mage dæśaya avadi karanu mena, Piyanani…“— Where knowledge keeps the world from being divided by the walls of narrow thoughts… Into that heaven of freedom, Father, let my country awake. How many poems, how many Amaradevas, how many freedom speeches, how many religious sermons, how many inundations, and how many struggles must come and go before we awaken to that truth and let Mother Lanka be out of that vicious pattern or circle of collapse and recovery—whole, healed, and free?

By Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J.
Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, CA, USA
Rashmi.Fernando@lmu.edu | https://orcid.org/0009-0006-3310-721X

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Opinion

War with Iran and unravelling of the global order – II

Published

1 week ago

2026/04/9

Sahan Weerasooriya

A US airstrike on Iran

Broader Strategic Consequences

One of the most significant strategic consequences of the war is the accelerated erosion of U.S. political and moral hegemony. This is not a sudden phenomenon precipitated solely by the present conflict; rather, the war has served to illuminate an already evolving global reality—that the era of uncontested U.S. dominance is in decline. The resurgence of Donald Trump and the reassertion of his “America First” doctrine reflect deep-seated domestic economic and political challenges within the United States. These internal pressures have, in turn, shaped a more unilateral and inward-looking foreign policy posture, further constraining Washington’s capacity to exercise global leadership.

Moreover, the conduct of the war has significantly undermined the political and moral authority of the United States. Perceived violations of international humanitarian law, coupled with the selective application of international norms, have weakened the credibility of U.S. advocacy for a “rules-based international order.” Such inconsistencies have reinforced perceptions of double standards, particularly among states in the Global South. Skepticism toward Western normative leadership is expected to deepen, contributing to the gradual fragmentation of the international system. In this broader context, the ongoing crisis can be seen as symptomatic of a more fundamental transformation: the progressive waning of a global order historically anchored in U.S. hegemony and the emergence of a more contested and pluralistic international landscape.

The regional implications of the crisis are likely to be profound, particularly given the centrality of the Persian Gulf to the global political economy. As a critical hub of energy production and maritime trade, instability in this region carries systemic consequences that extend far beyond its immediate geography. Whatever may be the outcome, whether through the decisive weakening of Iran or the inability of external powers to dismantle its leadership and strategic capabilities, the post-conflict regional order will differ markedly from its pre-war configuration. In this evolving context, traditional power hierarchies, alliance structures, and deterrence dynamics are likely to undergo significant recalibration.

A key lesson underscored by the war is the deep interconnectivity of the contemporary global economic order. In an era of highly integrated production networks and supply chains, disruptions in a single strategic node can generate cascading effects across the global system. As such, regional conflicts increasingly assume global significance. The structural realities of globalisation make it difficult to contain economic and strategic shocks within regional boundaries, as impacts rapidly transmit through trade, energy, and financial networks. In this context, peace and stability are no longer purely regional concerns but global public goods, essential to the functioning and resilience of the international system

The conflict highlights the emergence of a new paradigm of warfare shaped by the integration of artificial intelligence, cyber capabilities, and unmanned systems. The extensive use of unmanned combat aerial vehicles (UCAVs)—a trend previously demonstrated in the Russia–Ukraine War—has been further validated in this theatre. However, unlike the Ukraine conflict, where Western powers have provided sustained military, technological, and financial backing, the present confrontation reflects a more direct asymmetry between a dominant global hegemon and a Global South state. Iran’s deployment of drone swarms and AI-enabled targeting systems illustrates that key elements of Fourth Industrial Revolution (4IR) warfare are no longer confined to technologically advanced Western states. These capabilities are increasingly accessible to Global South actors, lowering barriers to entry and significantly enhancing their capacity to wage effective asymmetric warfare. In this evolving context, technological diffusion is reshaping the strategic landscape, challenging traditional military hierarchies and altering the balance between conventional superiority and innovative, cost-effective combat strategies.

The war further exposed and deepened the weakening of global governance institutions, particularly the United Nations. Many of these institutions were established in 1945, reflecting the balance of power and geopolitical realities of the immediate post-Second World War era. However, the profound transformations in the international system since then have rendered aspects of this institutional architecture increasingly outdated and less effective.

The war has underscored the urgent need for comprehensive international governance reforms to ensure that international institutions remain credible, representative, and capable of addressing contemporary security challenges. The perceived ineffectiveness of UN human rights mechanisms in responding to violations of international humanitarian law—particularly in contexts such as the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, and more recently in Iran—has amplified calls for institutional renewal or the development of alternative frameworks for maintaining international peace and security. Moreover, the selective enforcement of international law and the persistent paralysis in conflict resolution mechanisms risk accelerating the fragmentation of global norms. If sustained, this trajectory would signal not merely the weakening but the possible demise of the so-called liberal international order, accelerating the erosion of both the legitimacy and the effective authority of existing multilateral institutions, and deepening the crisis of global governance.

Historically, major wars have often served as harbingers of new eras in international politics, marking painful yet decisive transitions from one order to another. Periods of systemic decline are typically accompanied by instability, uncertainty, and profound disruption; yet, it is through such crises that the contours of an emerging order begin to take shape. The present conflict appears to reflect such a moment of transition, where the strains within the existing global system are becoming increasingly visible.

Notably, key European powers are exhibiting a gradual shift away from exclusive reliance on the U.S. security umbrella, seeking instead a more autonomous and assertive role in global affairs. At the same time, the war is likely to create strategic space for China to expand its influence. As the United States becomes more deeply entangled militarily and politically, China may consolidate its position as a stabilising economic actor and an alternative strategic partner. This could be reflected in intensified energy diplomacy, expanded infrastructure investments, and a more proactive role in regional conflict management, advancing Beijing’s long-term objective of reshaping global governance structures.

However, this transition does not imply a simple replacement of Pax Americana with Pax Sinica. Rather, the emerging global order is likely to be more diffuse, pluralistic, and multilateral in character. In this sense, the ongoing transformation aligns with broader narratives of an “Asian Century,” in which power is redistributed across multiple centers rather than concentrated in a single hegemon. The war, therefore, may ultimately be understood not merely as a geopolitical crisis, but as a defining inflection point in the reconfiguration of the global order.

Conclusion: A New Era on the Horizon

History shows that major wars often signal the birth of new eras—painful, disruptive, yet transformative. The present conflict is no exception. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the existing world order, challenged U.S. dominance, and revealed the limits of established global governance.

European powers are beginning to chart a more independent course, reducing reliance on the U.S. security umbrella, while China is poised to expand its influence as an economic stabiliser and strategic partner. Through energy diplomacy, infrastructure investments, and active engagement in regional conflicts, Beijing is quietly shaping the contours of a more multipolar world. Yet this is not the rise of Pax Sinica replacing Pax Americana. The emerging order is likely to be multilateral, fluid, and competitive—a world in which multiple powers, old and new, share the stage. The war, in all its turbulence, may therefore mark the dawn of a genuinely new global era, one where uncertainty coexists with opportunity, and where the next chapter of international politics is being written before our eyes.

by Gamini Keerawella
(First part of this article appeared yesterday (08 April)

Opinion

University admission crisis: Academics must lead the way

Published

1 week ago

2026/04/8

Sahan Weerasooriya

130,000 students are left out each year—academics hold the key

Each year, Sri Lanka’s G.C.E. Advanced Level examination produces a wave of hope—this year, nearly 175,000 students qualified for university entrance. Yet only 45,000 will be admitted to state universities. That leaves more than 130,000 young people stranded—qualified, ambitious, but excluded. This is not just a statistic; it is a national crisis. And while policymakers debate infrastructure and funding, the country’s academics must step forward as catalysts of change.

Beyond the Numbers: A National Responsibility

Education is the backbone of Sri Lanka’s development. Denying access to tens of thousands of qualified students risks wasting talent, fueling inequality, and undermining national progress. The gap is not simply about seats in lecture halls—it is about the future of a generation. Academics, as custodians of knowledge, cannot remain passive observers. They must reimagine the delivery of higher education to ensure opportunity is not a privilege for the few.

Expanding Pathways, Not Just Campuses

The traditional model of four-year degrees in brick-and-mortar universities cannot absorb the demand. Academics can design short-term diplomas and certificate programmes that provide immediate access to learning. These programmes, focused on employable skills, would allow thousands to continue their education while easing pressure on degree programmes. Equally important is the digital transformation of education. Online and blended learning modules can extend access to rural students, breaking the monopoly of physical campuses. With academic leadership, Sri Lanka can build a reliable system of credit transfers, enabling students to begin their studies at affiliated institutions and later transfer to state universities.

Partnerships That Protect Quality

Private universities and vocational institutes already absorb many students who miss out on state admissions. But concerns about quality and recognition persist. Academics can bridge this divide by providing quality assurance and standardised curricula, supervising joint degree programmes, and expanding the Open University system. These partnerships would ensure that students outside the state system receive affordable, credible, and internationally recognised education.

Research and Advocacy: Shaping Policy

Academics are not only teachers—they are researchers and thought leaders. By conducting labour market studies, they can align higher education expansion with employability. Evidence-based recommendations to the University Grants Commission (UGC) can guide strategic intake increases, regional university expansion, and government investment in digital infrastructure. In this way, academics can ensure reforms are not reactive, but visionary.

Industry Engagement: Learning Beyond the Classroom

Sri Lanka’s universities must become entrepreneurship hubs and innovation labs. Academics can design programmes that connect students directly with industries, offering internship-based learning and applied research opportunities. This approach reduces reliance on classroom capacity while equipping students with practical skills. It also reframes education as a partnership between universities and the economy, rather than a closed system.

Making the Most of What We Have

Even within existing constraints, academics can expand capacity. Training junior lecturers and adjunct faculty, sharing facilities across universities, and building international collaborations for joint programmes and scholarships are practical steps. These measures maximise resources while opening new avenues for students.

A Call to Action

Sri Lanka’s university admission crisis is not just about numbers—it is about fairness, opportunity, and national development. Academics must lead the way in transforming exclusion into empowerment. By expanding pathways, strengthening partnerships, advocating for policy reform, engaging with industry, and optimizing resources, they can ensure that qualified students are not left behind.

“Education for all, not just the fortunate few.”

Dr. Arosh Bandula (Ph.D. Nottingham), Senior Lecturer, Department of Agricultural Economics & Agribusiness, Faculty of Agriculture, University of Ruhuna

by Dr. Arosh Bandula

Opinion

Post-Easter Sri Lanka: Between memory, narrative, and National security

Published

1 week ago

2026/04/7

Sahan Weerasooriya

As Sri Lanka approaches the seventh commemoration of the Easter Sunday attacks, the national mood is once again marked by grief, reflection, and an enduring sense of incompleteness. Nearly seven years later, the tragedy continues to cast a long shadow not only over the victims and their families, but over the institutions and narratives that have since emerged.

Commemoration, however, must go beyond ritual. It must be anchored in clarity, accountability, and restraint. What is increasingly evident in the post-Easter landscape is not merely a search for truth, but a contest over how that truth is framed, interpreted, and presented to the public.

In recent times, public discourse has been shaped by book launches, panel discussions, and media interventions that claim to offer new insights into the attacks. While such contributions are not inherently problematic, the manner in which certain narratives are advanced raises legitimate concerns. The selective disclosure of information particularly when it touches on intelligence operations demands careful scrutiny.

Sri Lanka’s legal and institutional framework is clear on the sensitivity of such matters. The Official Secrets Act (No. 32 of 1955) places strict obligations on the handling of information related to national security. Similarly, the Police Ordinance and internal administrative regulations governing intelligence units emphasize confidentiality, chain of command, and the responsible use of information. These are not mere formalities; they exist to safeguard both operational integrity and national interest.

When individual particularly those with prior access to intelligence structures enter the public domain with claims that are not subject to verification, it raises critical questions. Are these disclosures contributing to justice and accountability, or are they inadvertently compromising institutional credibility and future operational capacity?

The challenge lies in distinguishing between constructive transparency and selective exposure.

The Presidential Commission of Inquiry into the Easter Sunday Attacks provided one of the most comprehensive official examinations of the attacks. Its findings highlighted a complex web of failures: lapses in intelligence sharing, breakdowns in inter-agency coordination, and serious deficiencies in political oversight. Importantly, it underscored that the attacks were not the result of a single point of failure, but a systemic collapse across multiple levels of governance.

Yet, despite the existence of such detailed institutional findings, public discourse often gravitates toward simplified narratives. There is a tendency to identify singular “masterminds” or to attribute responsibility in ways that align with prevailing political or ideological positions. While such narratives may be compelling, they risk obscuring the deeper structural issues that enabled the attacks to occur.

Equally significant is the broader socio-political context in which these narratives are unfolding. Sri Lanka today remains a society marked by fragile intercommunal relations. The aftermath of the Easter attacks saw heightened suspicion, polarisation, and, in some instances, collective blame directed at entire communities. Although there have been efforts toward reconciliation, these fault lines have not entirely disappeared.

In this environment, the language and tone of public discourse carry immense weight. The framing of terrorism whether as a localized phenomenon or as part of a broader ideological construct must be handled with precision and responsibility. Overgeneralization or the uncritical use of labels can have far-reaching consequences, including the marginalization of communities and the erosion of social cohesion.

At the same time, it is essential to acknowledge that the global discourse on terrorism is itself contested. Competing narratives, geopolitical interests, and selective historiography often shape how events are interpreted. For Sri Lanka, the challenge is to avoid becoming a passive recipient of external frameworks that may not fully reflect its own realities.

A professional and unbiased approach requires a commitment to evidence-based analysis. This includes:

· Engaging with primary sources, including official reports and judicial findings
·

· Cross-referencing claims with verifiable data
·

· Recognizing the limits of publicly available information, particularly in intelligence matters

It also requires intellectual discipline the willingness to question assumptions, to resist convenient conclusions, and to remain open to complexity.

The role of former officials and subject-matter experts in this discourse is particularly important. Their experience can provide valuable insights, but it also carries a responsibility. Public interventions must be guided by professional ethics, respect for institutional boundaries, and an awareness of the potential impact on national security.

There is a fine balance to be maintained. On one hand, democratic societies require transparency and accountability. On the other, the premature or uncontextualized release of sensitive information can undermine the very systems that are meant to protect the public.

As Sri Lanka reflects on the events of April 2019, it must resist the temptation to reduce a national tragedy into competing narratives or political instruments. The pursuit of truth must be methodical, inclusive, and grounded in law.

Easter is not only a moment of remembrance. It is a test of institutional maturity and societal resilience.

The real question is not whether new narratives will emerge they inevitably will. The question is whether Sri Lanka has the capacity to engage with them critically, responsibly, and in a manner that strengthens, rather than weakens, the foundations of its national security and social harmony.

In the end, justice is not served by noise or conjecture. It is served by patience, rigor, and an unwavering commitment to truth.

Mahil Dole is a former senior law enforcement officer and national security analyst, with over four decades of experience in policing and intelligence, including serving as Head of Counter-Intelligence at the State Intelligence Service of Sri Lanka and a graduate of the Asia Pacific Center for Security Studies in Hawai, USA.

by Mahil Dole
Former Senior Law Enforcement Officer National Security Analyst; Former Head of Counter-Intelligence, State Intelligence Service)