Features

My family and Royal College

Published

3 years ago

2023/01/8

I must say something about my mother. She was the dearest and sweetest person I have known, as I suppose the humblest and poorest mother would and should be. Instances of the pain and trouble she took to bring up her children are too numerous to mention here. Not only would she supervise the preparation of the food but would insist that the children consumed it. She would take our lessons at the dining table before dinner, teaching us our history, geography, arithmetic, English etc., and explain to us the things we did not understand.

In the evening, if she had time to spare, she would sit at the piano and play old favourites like the “Robin’s Return” or the “Maiden’s Prayer.” At the age of about five, after listening to her playing, I was put under a teacher, Mrs Meier, and from there I went on in my musical education till I had to give up music because of the time I had to devote to my studies at school. I took Theory of Music as a subject for the Cambridge Junior, having been taught by a gracious lady whom I prefer to call ‘Aunt Sybil’. For her dear parents, both now departed, and the entire family of eight daughters I have always had the highest regard and respect. They all treated me as one of their family.

Mother was an expert at knitting, particularly stockings (the heel I am told is not too easy) for the planters up-country, who thought highly of her work and remunerated her well for it. I still treasure a high necked and long-sleeved pullover that she knitted for me and which I always use whenever I go on a holiday to Nuwara Eliya. I learnt tennis from my mother who used to play on the court at ‘Charley Villa’, the residence of Mr and Mrs V. S. A. Dias. It was a sort of private club and the membership was very restricted. Later, she joined the Panadura Sports Club but had to give up tennis owing to her high blood pressure.

On April 8, 1945, we had a friendly cricket match at Panadura, one side captained by my brother G. S. and the other by my uncle D. S. Jayawickrama. The teams were entertained to lunch by my sister Dorothy, and on our way back to Colombo, we called on father and mother who entertained us to drinks. She saw most of her children and her two surviving brothers that evening. She was not ill and joked and laughed with us in the verandah. Early next morning, father telephoned to me to say that mother had passed away peacefully in her sleep. What we owe to her cannot be expressed in words here.

Before I go on to my story proper, I should I like to take this opportunity to refer to my brothers and sisters. We were a musical family except for my brother S. W. who would sometimes sing a bit but could not play any instrument. My sister Olivia played the guitar and, later, passed a high examination in pianoforte and started teaching music. She married Dick Dias, the well-known playwright. My second sister Dorothy played the violin. She married Leslie, the yonger son of Mr M. A. Perera of Panadura. My brother J. Q. played the ukelele and G. S. the drums. In the family, we formed a musical club, and made brother S. W. Treasurer. We once played in public at Panadura and gave a fairly good performance. My youngest sister Matinee who is a pianist and violinist was too young at that time to take part in our activities. She married Somadeva Amarasuriya of Galle.

The Royal College

Schooling began in the St John’s Girls’ School, Panadura, at about the age of seven. There was also a Boys’ School and a College, all under the Principalship of the late Mr Cyril A. Jansz (Snr) of revered and enduring memory. My Principal was Miss Bett whom I came to like, and my teachers were Miss Goonetilleke (later Mrs Attygalle) and Miss May Young, both of whom I respected, although, from the latter, I received the only caning I have had in my school career – six cuts with a cane on the hand for hiding behind a wall in order to “cut” prayers. The two years in the Girls’ School were uneventful. What I learnt in the school I cannot now recall: probably the rudiments of English, addition and subtraction etc. We were not taught any Sinhala.

About the age of nine, father, anxious to get us into his old school, the Royal College, sent me and my brother S. W. to Mr Weerasinghe, the Head Master of the St John’s Boys’ School for private coaching to enable us to pass the entrance test. He taught us a little more arithmetic, multiplication, division and pounds, shillings, pence. He used to give us sums to do and, when we had not the correct answer, had only one remark to make – ‘Stupid’. In spite of our stupidity, with his coaching, my brother and I passed the test and became Royalists.

The Lower School at the Royal College, where I was taken into Form I, was then housed in the building that was later used for the Royal Primary with the entrance at the junction of Thurstan Road and Alfred Place. My brother and I boarded with Mr Jinoris Rodrigo, father of Professor J. L. C., J. G. C. and J. B. C. (later principal of Prince of Wales College, Moratuwa) at his house ‘Connington’ in Thimbirigasyaya Road. Later, we traveled daily by train from Panadura with a servant boy carrying our lunch basket.

From the Bambalapitiya station we walked up St Kilda’s Lane and School Lane until we came to the back garden of the huge Alfred House. From there on the Thurstan Road was all grass fields. The whole area is now a built-up area. Royal College, at that time, was in the present University building, the Lower School being housed in the Training College. My brother and I each received five cents as pocket money each day and had to decide between a lime juice at the tuck shop, the ice cream cart and the gram seller as regards the best buy for the day.

My teacher was Miss Agnes Spittel, a lady whom all the students loved- The Head Master was Roy Vanderwall. The Principal was Charles Hartley, a great gentleman. Always dressed in a simple cannannore suit, he spent his evenings picking the love grass from the college lawns. He knew every student, used to come round each month to the classes to take ‘Positions’ with his fountain pen between his nose and his upper lip. The class had to line up for him and he had a word for every boy. If you had come from second to first -‘Good’; from second to ninth – “Bad”, and if the decline was repeated – “Come to the armoury” where the canes were kept. We all liked him.

Hartley was succeeded by Major H. L. Reed, a very strict disciplinarian. Between Hartley’s departure and Reed’s arrival, L. H. W. Sampson, an Oxford classical scholar with a grumpy voice, was acting Principal. Like Dean Inge, he might well have been nicknamed ‘The Gloomy Dean’. It was while Sampson was acting that my brothers. J. Q., and G. S. sought entry to the College. G. S. passed the test, but J. Q. the older brother who suffered from a cleft in the palate and for that reason was a little backward, failed.

Father pleaded with Sampson to take the boy – reply “Can’t do”. When Reed arrived, father saw him by appointment and explained the circumstances, namely, that he was himself an old Royalist, that he had four sons, three of whom had been taken and the fourth rejected because of a slight backwardness due to a cleft in the palate, and that he did not like to send the boy to any other school. Reed made order in writing “Take the boy without examination”. The Old School Tie!

Alas. The Royal College of old is today a Central School. The old traditions appear to be fast disappearing, and I hear that the language the brats use is unprintable and their manners dreadful. The motto disce aut discede is almost forgotten. I remember Reed teaching me my manners on one occasion. I was walking along the college corridor with my bag in my hand and my hat on my head and Reed was coming towards me from the other end. As we were about to cross, he stopped me: “Young man,” he said, “never wear a hat when you are under a roof.”

From Form I, I had a “double” promotion to Lower III – Master E. C. T. Holsinger. I therefore missed being taught by our respected S. P. Foenander who was taking Form II. Our English in Lower III was taken by Mervyn Fonseka, later to be my Head of Department as Legal Draftsman, but of this later. From there on, I passed through the hands of a gentlemanly and scholarly set of teachers to whom I owe my present position. There was, as I said, Roy Vanderwall. There were L. V. Gooneratne, Victor C. Perera, R. C. Edwards, D. C. R. Gunawardena, H. J. Wijesinghe, T. M. Weerasinghe, T. H. Wijesinghe, F. D. Wijesinghe, Cameron Samarasinghe, P. I. Roberts, T. D. Jayasuriya, and finally Vollenhoven and Paulusz both of whom had taught my father when he was at Royal.

On the Mathematics side there were F. R. V. Gulasekeram and M. M. Kulasekeram, both experts in their line, whom I could not bluff. I had now passed Lower III and come up to Headmaster Vanderwall’s class at the top of the Lower School. During the Geography lesson, his practice was to hang four maps on the blackboard – England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales – and say “Point out Cardiff; point out Lossiemouth etc.”

The class of thirty decided to stage a strike. The next week’s lesson came and we all, on purpose, put our finger on the wrong map and groped about it looking for the town which was not there. “Go back and keep standing” said the teacher. At the end of the first round, twenty-nine out of thirty boys were standing in their places. The one boy who was seated, who today in strike parlance would be called a blackleg, was that brilliant boy George Chitty.

Came the second round and the same thing happened. To each boy, except Chitty, the Master said “Rise higher, Sir Percy” and so on, and we stood on the ‘form’. At the end of the third round, when the Master was saying things like “point out London” the newly knighted boys were further elevated and, except for the one, were all standing on the desks. Then the bell rang for the lunch interval and the small Johnnies in the lower forms streamed out and saw a strange sight. Fellows were pointing at us and my brothers J. Q. and G. S. were in the crowd. Vanderwall kept us standing on the desks for five minutes after the bell had rung.

We were then marched to the Principal’s office. Major Reed could not obviously cane twenty-nine pupils. He lined us on three sides of his office and kept silent. One mischievous chap pinched the “behind” of the fellow next to him who giggled. Reed made a military order “You stay behind. The rest of you can go.” The poor devil got six good and proper on the buttocks.

After passing Vanderwall, we came to Vollenhoven and Paulusz, both great gentlemen. Of them, I have two stories to relate. One of our classmates was a boarder at Vollenhoven’s house and he whispered to the boys “Today is Papa’s birthday”. ‘Papa’ was Vollenhoven’s nickname. We had rich boys in the class. A paper was quietly sent round from desk to desk and more than eighty rupees were collected in a few minutes. The money was handed to Alexis Roberts, an irrepressible fellow with a sense of humour and mischief and a love of the piano, who sat in the last row in the seat nearest the door.

While ‘Papa’ was chalking something on the Board with his back to the class, Alexis slipped out, got into one of the boy’s cars, went to the Fort and bought the birthday present for ‘Papa’ – an enamel toilet set, wash basin, toothbrush holder, soap dish, jug, chamber pot etc. He asked that the present (except the chamber pot which should be packed separately with the handle out) should be delivered at Papa’s bungalow at Deal Place. In due course, Alexis slipped back into his seat with the chamber pot, unnoticed by Papa who was working something on the board. Papa had not noticed his absence of about one hour.

Five minutes before the end of the lesson, Alexis stood up in his seat at the back and made a short speech, saying that he had heard that it was Papa’s birthday (Papa now taking out his pince-nez, bowing and saying “Now, now boys, I don’t want you to put yourselves to any trouble over my birthday”) and asking that as a birthday present “You accept this most elegant gift from the class.” “Thank you boys, thank you” said Papa. Alexis walked up and presented the chamber pot. “Get out of the class, Roberts” shouted Papa, and out went Roberts, glad to get out.

Later in the day, a chit was brought from Madam Papa saying that a large present from the class had been delivered at the house. “I will be very happy to see all you boys at my bungalow for refreshments today after school,” said Papa, and we had a good time, Alexis insisting on and getting a spot of alcoholic drink.

Papa was a very kind-hearted man. He wore a stiff collar and a tie which looked like a shoestring. Alexis, the spoilt son of that wealthy, respected and long-remembered father, the late Dr Emmanuel Roberts, came into class on a rainy day with his clothes all wet. He had, on purpose, put his head under a gutter. Papa was horrified. “My dear boy, you will catch pneumonia. Go home at once and change your clothes.” “I haven’t another suit, Sir”, said Alexis. “Here, take this note to my wife and she will give you one of my suits”, the kind man said.

So off Alexis went. In time, he returned, dressed in one of Papa’s suits with coat sleeves and trouser-bottoms rolled up because they were both too long, in one of Papa’s stiff collars, and for a tie, a shoelace. As soon as Papa saw him entering the class in this dress, he shrieked “Get out, Roberts” and, as usual, out went Roberts.

Genial old Mr Paulusz taking the Remove Form was calling the roll one morning and came to the name ‘Roberts’. There were several Silvas, Wijesinghes etc. after ‘R’. “Absent yesterday, Roberts?” asked the master. ‘Yes Sir’ said R. “Your letter of excuse, please”, and he proceeded to call the rest of the names. R, who came to school only about three times a week and that also without books, pen or pencil, quickly borrowed pen and paper from the fellow at the next desk and wrote out his letter of excuse. Whose signature he put on the letter no one knew. As he got to the end of the letter, the master had got to the end of the roll. R. walked boldly up to the table and handed the letter. The master read it and said “Somebody give me a piece of blotting paper, please. Thank you, Roberts.” That was the Royal in the 1920’s.

By some misfortune, I found myself in the top mathematics set with my brother S. W., my cousin C. O. Cooray, who passed into the Indian Civil Service, and P. H. Wickramasinghe who did likewise. I knew no higher maths and bluffed around until, one day, M. M. Kulasekeram taking the class, asked me to walk up to the blackboard and work out a problem on the “E” theorem which he had been explaining for two weeks. I could not put the chalk to the board because I had not the slightest notion what the “E” theorem was about. The teacher rubbed the board out and put a new problem on the “E” theorem which was simpler. I failed again. He asked me to clear out of the class and never come in again. I was happy.

I did not take much interest in games or athletics, but gave my time to our weekly meetings of the Debating Society of which later I became Vice-President, the Principal being president ex-officio. The “live” members at that time were J. R. Jayewardene and his brother Corbett, Shirley Corea, George Chitty and Panditha Gunawardena, to mention just a few.

In due course, I found myself in the top form on the classics side. English was taken by Reed, Latin by Sampson, Vice-Principal, and Greek by T. D. Jayasuriya. P. I. Roberts was Form Master. I had earlier passed the Cambridge Junior with honours. In 1925,1 had passed the Cambridge Senior with honours in English, Latin, Greek and, of all subjects, Mathematics and Drawing. In 1927, I obtained a First Division in the London Matriculation Examination with English, Latin, Greek, Mathematics and Logic and was made a Prefect.

I won the George Wille Prize for Greek prose and came second in Latin prose. I waited in school for a few more months because there was nothing for me to do till I entered the University College. Reed and Sampson exempted me from the English and Latin classes and I used to pass the time in the Prefects’ Room reading Hazlitt, Emerson and other general literature, and with the little pocket money available to me, buying a book now and then. The pocket money had, at this time, been increased beyond the original five cents.

I left the Royal College in May 1927. Cricket bored me and I am ashamed to confess that in my ten years at the Royal I never saw a Royal-Thomian match. The furthest I got in cricket was the 2nd XI in Boake House. On leaving, Reed gave me he following certificate:

“B. P. Peiris has done a full course at the Royal College finishing up on the Arts side by gaining a place in the First Division at the last London Matriculation Examination. He has always been a pupil of intelligence above the average who had displayed a taste for literature. He has plenty of force of character, which he has put to good use in the Literary Association and the Social Service league, an organization largely occupied in social service. I consider that he would do well at an English University, and that any College accepting him as a student would be unlikely to regret such a step.”

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Features

Power crept into the Sangha and is now tearing it apart

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

A file photo of Buddhist monks engaged in a protest

For more than a century, Sri Lankan society has lived with a quiet contradiction at the heart of its religious life. On the one hand, the Buddhist monk is revered as the embodiment of moral discipline, selfrestraint, and renunciation. On the other, the modern monk has become a public figure, political actor, administrator, media personality, and in some cases power broker whose influence extends far beyond the temple. This contradiction has been tolerated, even celebrated, for decades. But recent events, most notably a widely publicised case involving a senior monk accused of grave moral misconduct, have forced the country to confront a painful truth: the institutional conditions that make such scandals possible are not new. They are the predictable outcome of a long historical process that H. L. Seneviratne described with remarkable clarity in The Work of Kings. The moral deterioration visible today is not an aberration. It is the culmination of a centurylong transformation in the identity, function, and authority of the Sangha.

To understand how we arrived at this moment, it is necessary to revisit the argument Seneviratne made nearly three decades ago. His thesis was simple but profound: the modern Sri Lankan monkhood has taken on the ‘work of kings.’ By this he meant that monks, instead of confining themselves to the renunciant life prescribed by the Vinaya, have assumed the secular responsibilities once associated with precolonial kingship, such as protecting the religion, organising society, guiding the nation, and enforcing moral order. This shift, he argued, was not a natural evolution of Buddhist tradition but a modern invention shaped by colonialism, nationalism, and the anxieties of a society struggling to redefine itself in the face of foreign domination. The monk became a symbol of national identity, a guardian of cultural authenticity, and a leader in the struggle for political autonomy. In the process, the boundaries that once separated the monastic from the worldly began to dissolve.

Transformation

The consequences of this transformation were not immediately visible. For decades, the activist monk was celebrated as a patriot, a reformer, and a moral guide. His involvement in education, social welfare, and nationalist mobilisation was seen as a necessary response to colonial pressures and missionary competition. But beneath the surface, the foundations of monastic discipline were slowly eroding. The Vinaya, which had served for centuries as a rigorous framework for regulating monastic life, was increasingly overshadowed by the demands of public engagement. The communal structures that once ensured accountability, senior supervision, collective confession, and the daily rhythms of monastic routine, were weakened by the pressures of modernity. Monks who travelled constantly, managed institutions, or lived independently in urban temples found themselves outside the traditional systems of oversight that had long protected the integrity of the Sangha.

Scandal

It is within this historical context that the recent scandal must be understood. The case shocked the nation not only because of the severity of the allegations but because it shattered the public’s assumption that the monkhood remains a bastion of moral purity. Yet the shock itself reveals a collective denial. For years, Sri Lankan society has been aware, sometimes quietly, sometimes openly—of the growing gap between the ideal of the monk and the realities of modern monastic life. Stories of misconduct, financial irregularities, political manipulation, and abuse of authority have circulated with increasing frequency. But each incident has been treated as an isolated failure, a personal weakness, or an unfortunate exception. What has been missing is recognition that these incidents are symptoms of a deeper structural problem.

Seneviratne’s analysis helps illuminate this problem. When monks take on the work of kings, they inevitably enter domains of power that expose them to temptations the Vinaya was designed to avoid. Handling money, managing institutions, cultivating political patrons, and exercising authority over laypeople create opportunities for ego, ambition, and moral compromise. The monk who becomes a public figure is no longer shielded by the anonymity and humility of the renunciant life. Instead, he becomes a celebrity, a leader, and in some cases an object of uncritical devotion. This elevation brings with it a dangerous form of immunity. Laypeople who revere a monk for his public achievements may hesitate to question his behaviour. Politicians who rely on monastic support may protect him from scrutiny. The media, which often treats monks as moral authorities, may be reluctant to investigate allegations that challenge the sanctity of the robe.

The recent scandal illustrates how these dynamics can converge. The monk at the centre of the case was not an obscure figure. He was a respected preacher, charismatic leader, and head of a prominent institution. His public image was built on years of service, teaching, and community engagement. Yet it was precisely this public stature that allowed him to operate without meaningful oversight. The institutional structures around him, administrators, lay supporters, and junior monks, were either unwilling or unable to challenge his authority. The very qualities that made him a respected figure in the eyes of the public also made him untouchable within his own institution. When allegations finally emerged, they revealed not only personal wrongdoing but a systemic failure of accountability.

Failure that is not unique

This failure is not unique to one temple or one monk. It reflects a broader pattern within the modern Sangha. As monastic institutions have grown in size, wealth, and influence, their internal governance has struggled to keep pace. Many temples operate as semiautonomous entities controlled by a single monk or a small group of monks. Financial transparency is limited, administrative oversight is weak, and the mechanisms for addressing misconduct are often informal or ineffective. The traditional structures of monastic discipline, such as the Sangharama procedures for adjudicating offences, are rarely used in modern contexts, partly because they require collective participation and partly because they are illsuited to the complexities of contemporary institutional life. In practice, this means that monks who wield significant authority can act with little fear of internal sanction.

The politicisation of the Sangha has further complicated matters. Since the midtwentieth century, monks have played an increasingly prominent role in electoral politics, nationalist movements, and public policy debates. This involvement has given them access to political networks that can be mobilised to protect their interests. It has also created a culture in which monks are valued not for their adherence to the Vinaya but for their ability to influence public opinion, mobilise voters, or lend moral legitimacy to political causes. In such an environment, the monk who is politically useful may be shielded from criticism, while the monk who adheres strictly to the renunciant ideal may find himself marginalised or ignored.

The result is a profound distortion of monastic identity. The monk who once sought liberation from worldly attachments is now encouraged to cultivate influence, authority, and public recognition. The monk who once lived under the strict supervision of senior elders now operates in a world where independence is celebrated and oversight is minimal. The monk who once relied on laypeople for basic sustenance now controls vast resources, manages institutions, and commands the loyalty of thousands of followers. This inversion of traditional roles has created a fertile ground for moral deterioration.

Yet it would be a mistake to interpret this deterioration as evidence that the Sangha as a whole is corrupt. Many monks continue to live lives of remarkable discipline, humility, and spiritual dedication. In remote forest monasteries, small village temples, and meditation centres across the country, monks quietly uphold the ancient ideals of the renunciant life. They are not the ones who appear on television, lead political rallies, or manage large institutions. Their work is invisible, their influence subtle, and their commitment unwavering. The crisis facing the Sangha today is not a crisis of individual morality but a crisis of institutional identity. It is the product of a centurylong transformation that has blurred the boundaries between the monastic and the secular, the spiritual and the political, the renunciant and the worldly.

If Sri Lanka is to address this crisis, it must begin by acknowledging the structural nature of the problem. The temptation to treat each scandal as an isolated incident must be resisted. Instead, the country must confront the uncomfortable reality that the modern configuration of monastic life is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the Vinaya. The Sangha cannot simultaneously function as a political force, a social service provider, a media institution, and a spiritual community without compromising its integrity. The more monks are drawn into the world, the more vulnerable they become to the moral dangers that the Buddha warned against.

Reform, therefore, must focus not only on punishing individual offenders but on rethinking the institutional structures that enable misconduct. This includes strengthening internal governance, enhancing financial transparency, restoring the authority of senior elders, and reestablishing the communal practices that once ensured accountability. It also requires a broader cultural shift in how laypeople relate to monks. Blind devotion must give way to informed respect. Reverence must be balanced with responsibility. The robe must be honoured, but it must not be used as a shield against scrutiny.

Seneviratne’s work offers a valuable starting point for this rethinking. His analysis reminds us that the crisis facing the Sangha is not the result of moral decline alone but of historical forces that reshaped the identity of the monkhood. By tracing the evolution of the activist monk, he shows how the Sangha became entangled in the political and social structures of the modern nationstate. This entanglement has brought both benefits and dangers. It has allowed monks to play important roles in education, social welfare, and national development. But it has also exposed them to the corrupting influences of power, wealth, and public acclaim.

The challenge now is to disentangle the Sangha from these influences without undermining its ability to serve society. This will not be easy. The activist monk has become deeply embedded in the cultural and political fabric of the country. Many laypeople expect monks to be leaders, reformers, and guardians of national identity. Politicians rely on monastic support to legitimise their agendas. Media institutions depend on monks for content, commentary, and moral authority. Reversing this trend will require a collective effort from monks, laypeople, and political leaders alike.

Ultimately, the future of the Sangha depends on its ability to reclaim the renunciant ideal that lies at the heart of Buddhist monasticism. This does not mean withdrawing from society entirely, but it does mean reestablishing the boundaries that protect the monk from the dangers of worldly involvement. It means recognising that the true strength of the Sangha lies not in its political influence or institutional power but in its moral authority, its spiritual discipline, and its commitment to the path of liberation. The recent scandal, painful as it is, may serve as a catalyst for this reevaluation. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the modern monastic system and forced the country to confront the consequences of a centurylong transformation.

To understand how the Vihara Devalegam Act relates to the perceived moral deformation of the clergy, it is necessary to examine how property management, state law, and monastic discipline intersect in the modern era. Historically stemming from the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance No. 19 of 1931, this act serves as the primary legal framework governing the ‘temporalities’—meaning the secular wealth, extensive landholdings, and material donations belonging to Buddhist temples and shrines. While ancient kings granted these vast tracts of land to support the monkhood’s spiritual pursuits, the modern codification of this law has inadvertently fostered a system where property rights frequently supersede spiritual accountability.

The core of the crisis lies in the commercialisation of the monastic order that this legal framework enables. By treating temple lands as economic assets and vesting absolute administrative power in individual chief monks or lay trustees, the act has contributed to the rise of what critics term a monastic middle class. Access to vast, unregulated financial resources, rent from lands, and corporate donations has fundamentally shifted the focus of certain segments of the clergy away from the traditional path of worldly renunciation and spiritual guidance. Instead, it has driven a preoccupation with business investments, the accumulation of private capital, and luxury lifestyles, which deeply alienates a public looking to the Sangha for moral leadership.

The institutional flaws embedded in the Vihara Devalegam Act find a stark, real-world manifestation in the recent criminal case involving Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero. As the chief priest of Anuradhapura and the custodian of the Atamasthana—the eight highly venerated Buddhist shrines, including the sacred Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi—Hemarathana Thero occupied one of the most powerful and wealthy positions within the Sri Lankan Sangha. His arrest on charges of sexual abuse of a minor girl perfectly illustrates how the structural defects of the Act facilitate not only moral decay but also the systemic obstruction of justice.

The core of this intersection lies in the vast, unaccountable wealth generated by the temporalities of the Anuradhapura shrines. Under the Vihara Devalegam Act, the chief custodian exercises immense, virtually unchecked control over temple revenues, state-backed land management, and millions of rupees in daily donations from millions of global pilgrims. It is precisely this immense financial liquidity that enabled the alleged deployment of vast sums of money to the victim’s family.

Furthermore, the situation underscores the profound policy failures cited regarding the helplessness of the monastic hierarchy and state enforcement. When child protection authorities initially attempted to act, the National Child Protection Authority noted severe delays and institutional resistance, stating they practically had to force the police to execute the arrest. The monk’s immediate retreat to a private hospital in Colombo upon the advancement of the criminal probe, followed by his release on bail, mirrors the exact loop described where wealthy monastics deploy high-priced legal defence teams funded directly or indirectly by their institutional positions. Because the Vihara Devalegam Act does not provide a mechanism for the immediate, unconditional forfeiture of temporal administrative rights upon a criminal indictment, the accused retains his structural power throughout the legal process. The Pallegama Thero scandal stands as definitive proof that without a fundamental overhaul of how temple wealth is legally governed and disciplined, the material benefits guaranteed by ancient temporalities will continue to shield the worst elements of moral deformation from the rule of law.

If Sri Lanka can learn from this moment and if it can recognise the structural roots of the crisis and commit to meaningful reform, then the Sangha may yet emerge stronger, more disciplined, and more faithful to its ancient ideals. But if the country continues to treat each scandal as an isolated failure and if it continues to ignore the deeper institutional problems that Seneviratne identified, then the moral deterioration we see today will only deepen. The work of kings, when performed by monks, carries a heavy price. It is time to decide whether that price is worth paying.

by Professor Amarasiri de Silva

Features

Kondachchi wind farm and battery storage project to boost energy security, says Power Ministry Secretary

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

The Power and Energy Ministry’s drive towards energy security and renewable energy expansion received a major boost yesterday with the signing of a tripartite cooperation agreement for the development of the 150 MW Kondachchi Wind Power Project and an integrated Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) in Mannar.

The agreement was signed at the Ministry of Power auditorium under the patronage of Power Minister Anura Karunatilaka and Deputy Power Minister Arkam Ilyas.

Speaking at the event, Ministry Secretary G. M. R. D. Aponsu described the project as a transformative investment that would strengthen the country’s electricity network while supporting Sri Lanka’s transition towards cleaner energy sources.

“The Kondachchi Wind Power Project represents a significant milestone in Sri Lanka’s renewable energy journey. By combining large-scale wind generation with advanced battery energy storage technology, we are creating a more resilient and reliable power system capable of meeting future energy demands while reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels,” Aponsu said.

The project will be developed at Silavathurai in the Kondachchi area of Mannar on lands owned by the Sri Lanka Cashew Corporation. It is expected to utilise some 31 modern wind turbines with a total installed capacity of at least 150 MW.

Aponsu said the inclusion of an integrated battery storage facility would help address the variability associated with wind power generation and ensure stable electricity supply to the national grid.

“The battery energy storage component is a key feature of this project. It will enable the efficient integration of renewable energy into the grid and enhance overall system stability, which is essential as Sri Lanka increases the share of renewables in its energy mix,” he said.

According to the Ministry, the wind farm is expected to generate nearly 525 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually, significantly reducing the country’s expenditure on imported fuel and strengthening national energy security.

The project is also expected to contribute to Sri Lanka’s climate commitments by reducing carbon dioxide emissions by an estimated 372,750 tonnes annually.

“This investment delivers both economic and environmental benefits. It will reduce greenhouse gas emissions, support sustainable development objectives and help Sri Lanka move closer to achieving its renewable energy and climate targets,” Aponsu noted.

The project will be implemented under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) arrangement using the Build, Own and Operate (BOO) model. The Asian Development Bank is providing technical and financial advisory support through its Transaction Advisory Services programme.

The signing ceremony was attended by Pradeep Perera, Chairman of the National System Operator (Pvt) Ltd., and Takeyo Koike, Head of Market Development and Public-Private Partnership Division of the ADB, among other distinguished guests.

The Ministry said comprehensive Environmental Impact Assessments and avifaunal studies have been undertaken to ensure minimal impacts on bird populations, nearby communities and agricultural lands. A dedicated 220-kilovolt transmission system will also be constructed to connect the project to the national grid.

“The Kondachchi Wind Farm is a strategic national project that will help secure Sri Lanka’s energy future while accelerating the country’s transition towards sustainable and affordable electricity generation,” Aponsu said.

Energy sector experts view the project as one of the most important renewable energy initiatives currently being pursued in Sri Lanka, combining utility-scale wind generation with modern energy storage technology to enhance grid reliability and long-term energy sustainability.

By Ifham Nizam

Features

Saudi Arabia sets new benchmark in Hajj management as 1.7 million pilgrims complete sacred journey

Published

1 day ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

Ambassador Al-Kahtani

Interview with Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka

Saudi Arabia has once again demonstrated its unparalleled capacity to manage one of the world’s largest annual religious gatherings, with this year’s Hajj pilgrimage concluding successfully despite extreme temperatures and the immense logistical challenge of accommodating more than 1.7 million pilgrims from around the world.

In an exclusive interview with The Island, Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka, described the 2026 Hajj season as a resounding success, crediting the achievement to the visionary leadership of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister, and the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies working around the clock to serve pilgrims.

The Ambassador noted that nearly 3,500 Sri Lankan pilgrims participated in this year’s Hajj under the quota allocated to Sri Lanka, benefiting from enhanced healthcare services, sophisticated crowd-management systems, expanded shaded areas and cutting-edge digital solutions introduced by the Kingdom.

With Saudi Arabia continuing to invest heavily in infrastructure, technology and pilgrim services under Vision 2030, Ambassador Al-Kahtani said the Kingdom remains committed to ensuring that pilgrims from around the world perform their religious duties in safety, comfort and tranquility.

The Saudi envoy also highlighted the growing partnership between Saudi Arabia and Sri Lanka, emphasising expanding cooperation not only in Hajj affairs but also in trade, investment, education, culture and institutional exchanges.

Following are excerpts of the interview:

Q: How do you assess this year’s Hajj season?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: This year’s Hajj season was a resounding success, thanks to the Almighty Allah and the integrated efforts of the government of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, led by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister. This success was reflected in the efficiency of crowd management, the quality of services provided to the Hajj pilgrims and the effective coordination among the various relevant authorities, which enabled pilgrims to perform their rituals in an atmosphere of security, tranquility and ease.

Q: How many Sri Lankan pilgrims performed Hajj this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The number of Hajj pilgrims from the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka reached approximately 3,500, within the quota allocated to Sri Lanka for this season.

Q: Are there any discussions regarding increasing Sri Lanka’s quota in the future?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:Hajj quotas are determined according to approved regulatory mechanisms that take into account a range of considerations. The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continue to study various aspects related to developing Hajj services and accommodating the allocated numbers for all countries, in coordination with the concerned parties.

Q: What were the most prominent special arrangements implemented this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The operational plans for this season focused on enhancing the safety and comfort of the Hajj pilgrims, especially given the climatic conditions and high temperatures. Measures included expanding shaded areas, increasing water distribution points and enhancing health and ambulance services, in addition to developing the transportation system and traffic management within the holy sites.

Q: What are the most prominent digital systems and smart services that were provided?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:The Kingdom continues to implement its digital transformation objectives for the Hajj and Umrah system. The scope of electronic services offered through the Nusuk platform and application has been expanded, along with the development of digital systems for issuing permits, managing crowds, guidance and health services. This contributes to increasing the efficiency of services and improving the pilgrim’s experience at all stages of their journey.

Q: How were the challenges of overcrowding and heat addressed?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities adopted an integrated crowd-management system based on modern technologies and real-time data analysis. This was coupled with intensified health-awareness campaigns, expanded organised movement routes and increased deployment of field, medical and emergency teams. These measures support the safety of the Hajj pilgrims and reduce the risks associated with crowd density and climatic conditions.

Q: Were there special services for the elderly and sick?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Yes. The Kingdom paid special attention to the elderly and people with special health needs by providing specialized medical services, assistive transportation and facilities equipped to meet their needs, in addition to field teams working to provide humanitarian support and necessary healthcare throughout the Hajj period.

Q: How successful was the Kingdom in combating irregular Hajj permits?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continued to rigorously implement the regulations and instructions governing Hajj, utilising modern technologies and advanced monitoring procedures to reduce violations related to irregular Hajj. These efforts contributed to enhancing the safety of pilgrims, improving crowd-management efficiency and maintaining the smooth flow of movement within the holy sites.

Q: How would you describe Saudi-Sri Lankan cooperation in organising Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Cooperation between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka is characterised by continuous and constructive coordination in all matters related to Hajj. The relevant authorities in both countries work jointly to ensure the provision of the best services for Sri Lankan pilgrims and enable them to perform their rituals with ease and peace of mind.

Q: How many Hajj pilgrims were there globally, and what were the main challenges?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: According to official statistics, the number of Hajj pilgrims this year reached 1,707,301 from various countries around the world. The main challenges included managing large crowds, ensuring public safety and providing health, transportation and accommodation services within a specific geographical and temporal scope. These challenges were addressed through advanced and integrated operational plans, which contributed to the smooth and successful completion of the Hajj season.

Q: Are there any future expansion projects?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The Kingdom continues to implement strategic development projects within the framework of Vision 2030, including developing the infrastructure in Makkah and the Holy Sites, and enhancing transportation networks and smart services. This contributes to raising the quality of services provided to pilgrims and Umrah performers and improving their long-term experience.

Q: How are Saudi-Sri Lankan relations strengthened outside the context of Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Relations between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka are witnessing continuous development in many areas, including political, economic, trade, cultural and educational cooperation, in addition to developing exchanges between institutions and the private sector. This reflects the two countries’ keenness to strengthen the bilateral partnership and achieve common interests.

Q: What message would you like to convey to Sri Lankan Muslims?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: We extend our sincere congratulations to the Hajj pilgrims who have completed their Hajj rituals, and we ask Almighty Allah to accept their pilgrimage. We also assure Muslims in Sri Lanka that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia places serving the Two Holy Mosques and the guests of Almighty Allah at the forefront of its priorities and continues to develop the Hajj and Umrah system to achieve the highest standards of quality and safety.

By Ifham Nizam