Features
Political polarization, assassination of Lalith Athulathmudali and a new job for me
Events moved quickly now. There was a progressive polarization of the political climate. The two Senior Ministers, Mr. Gamini Dissanayake and Mr. Lalith Athulathmudali who had left the government and formed their own political party, The Democratic United National Front (DUNF) were posing a considerable challenge to the ruling UNP. The original intention of this group was to get the President impeached, and to assume control of the party. But President Premadasa outwitted them. Now, this breakaway party was beginning to pose a significant challenge. Needless to say all this was accompanied with great bitterness. This was certainly something that the President was not prepared to forgive or forget. The Provincial Council elections were now due and candidates from various parties were in the field vying for votes.
Mr. Athulathmudali along with his former Ministerial colleague and others were also keenly contesting this election. On the late evening of April 23, 1993, when Mr. Athulathmudali was addressing a political rally at Kirulapone, a gunman shot him. He was rushed to hospital where in spite of all efforts by doctors, he succumbed to his injuries. There was an outpouring of grief and anger in the country. Mr. Athulathmudali was a respected and popular figure. He was widely identified as a future leader of the country. The bitterness of the political battle that preceded his assassination was such that a great many people suspected the President of having been behind it.
The fact that there were others who were thorns in the government’s side, who mysteriously disappeared, or like in the case of Richard de Zoysa turned up dead in the sea, strengthened this perception. People openly began accusing the President. The state of public feeling was high and running against the President. The voices of a few, more reflective people who thought that the President couldn’t possibly have had a hand in this, because he would have known well enough that such an act would boomerang on him, were drowned out. Mass feeling at the time was not conducive to any sober analysis. There was an unprecedented crowd at his funeral, and angry people threw stones at some government buildings on the way to the cemetery. The Ministry of Public Administration was one such institution where several windows were broken.
Assassination of President Premadasa
The information was that the President was greatly distressed at what had happened, and the imputations and accusations made against him. People working close to him reported that he was hurt, angry and at times almost hysterical. This came out in what was to be his own final political address eerily enough at the same Kirulapone venue at which Mr. Athulathmudali was killed. Recordings of his speech at this rally indicate that he was very emotional and greatly disturbed. He was clearly not the disciplined and controlled person he normally was.
Towards the end of his address, in a voice which virtually amounted to a screech he said something like “you can assassinate me if you want to, but don’t assassinate my character.” Just a few days later, on the May 1, he and those around him were blown up by a suicide bomber, when, reportedly against the advice of his security personnel, he was out on the road near the Armour Street Junction of his beloved Colombo Central electorate directing and encouraging, the UNP May day processionists who were on their way to the Galle Face Green for the May day rally which he himself was going to address.
The nation was stunned. This was a President who looked so strong and indestructible.
The people responded with mixed feelings, after the initial shock. Some lit crackers in celebration, the first time this has happened on the death of a national leader. This showed how polarized our society had become. On the other hand, the President’s very strength, indomitable nature and his uncompromising refusal to take no for an answer created a climate of fear. It was not a comfortable experience working with him. Even if you got on well with him, you still felt a little off balance. Very few people would have felt completely comfortable with him – he was not a predictable person.
I myself felt this sense of ambiguity when working with him, although he was always courteous and never interfered. I did not have this kind of feeling when at different times, and for different periods, and directly or indirectly I had to work with leaders like Mrs. Bandaranaike, Mr. Dudley Senanayake, Mr. J.R. Jayewardene, Mr. D.B. Wijetunge and Mrs. Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga. President Premadasa was very result oriented and had many strong qualities. Making people feel at ease in his presence was not one of them.
Visit to the United States and Germany
Prime Minister D.B. Wijetunge was sworn in as President. Given the trauma, the transition fortunately for the country was remarkably smooth, a transition in which senior minister and later Prime Minister Ranil Wickremasinghe played a major and critical role. On May 19 I had to go to New York, on my way to Connecticut for my son’s convocation at Eastern Connecticut State University where he was due to receive a B.Sc. degree in Management Science, with the subsidiary subject being Economics. He had done very well, passing out Summa Cum Laude and also being admitted to the Honor Society in Economics, based on his performance.
Out of the hundreds who graduated that day only about seven had passed out Summa Cum Laude. He had done his 13 years of schooling here, and then on Minister Lalith Athulathmudali’s strong recommendation joined the Institute of Technological Studies, (ITS) at Narahenpita, an American Campus. This was the only institution in Sri Lanka at the time which could have offered the teaching for a degree which combined management, economics and a strong programme in computer science which our son was looking for.
The fact that we needed to support him financially in the United States only for a little over a year, almost two and half years of the course being conducted here in Sri Lanka, was an added attraction. In New York, I stayed with Dr. Stanley Kalpage, our Permanent Representative at the United Nations and his wife Chitra, who were generous and genial hosts. After the visit to Connecticut, I flew on to Frankfurt, Germany to begin an official visit.
The German authorities, and their International Aid Agency GTZ had made excellent arrangements, and drawn up a varied and interesting programme, which not only took me to universities, schools and Ministries, but also many other places of interest in Frankfurt, Bonn, Heidelberg, Cologne, Hamburg and Berlin. I had an erudite companion attached to me all the time who drove me around and accompanied me during the whole tour. I was spared the bother therefore of attending to anything at all connected with my travels, lodging and the numerous other matters, which surface on a visit such as this.
I was able therefore to totally relax and concentrate on substance. This companion, Mr. Neumann, who had a Master’s degree and was very well read, and spoke excellent English was later to head the GTZ office located in the Ministry. In the meantime, we spent many pleasant hours discussing a whole range of subjects. As a parting gift he presented me with a most interesting book, “The Tao of Physics.” Whilst in Bonn I met our Ambassador Karu Jayasuriya and his wife Vasantha. They were friends. Both of them as well as Lalith Hettiaratchi of the Sri Lanka Administrative Service, who worked with me when I was Secretary in the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Co-operatives, and who was now Deputy Ambassador, as well as his wife made me feel completely at home. Their warmth and hospitality were memorable.
Leaving The Education Ministry – summons by President Wijetunge
I arrived back in Sri Lanka on June 6 to a Ministry and a public service buzzing with rumours that I was to be sent as Secretary to the Ministry of Public Administration, Provincial Councils and Home Affairs. It was common knowledge at the time that all was not well in that important Ministry. Some serious incompatibilities seem to have developed between the Minister, Mr. Festus Perera and his Secretary, Mr. Junaid. Reports circulating in the public service had it that the Minister was in a state of near constant irritability, that he often used to shout at officers and humiliate them in public, in the presence of trade unions and other delegations, and that he seemed to trust nobody.
His “Mini Cabinet” meetings were reputed to be “mini” in the sense of the Sinhala term “Mini” which meant death! The rumours were that many of the existing officers were trapped in the Ministry with no way of getting out, and that there was nobody who had the remotest wish of wanting to get in!
Such was the state of affairs when President Wijetunge summoned me to see him on June 8. I knew this was not to inquire after my health. The rumours about my impending appointment now took on some validity.
I went to see the President somewhat unhappily. Mr. Wijetunge greeted me cordially and affably as he was wont to do. In my own case, I had also worked with him, once when he was Minister of Information and Broadcasting and once, when for a brief period, he was Minister of Food. After the exchange of pleasantries and inquiries about my visit to Germany, he came to the point. “Dharmasiri, I have a big problem in the Ministry of Public Administration. I want you to please go there and assume duties immediately as Secretary.”
I asked him “Why me?” and went on to say that I still had uncompleted work in the Ministry of Education and Higher Education. He said, “No, please go. Festus cannot get on with Junaid, and there is a major crisis there. It is a very important Ministry. I don’t want a breakdown there.” “Who is coming to Education?” I asked. “I have decided to send Weragoda across from Fisheries” the president replied. I had by now cleared enough messes in a long career. I had no particular desire to go and clear another mess. “Why don’t you send Weragoda direct to Public Administration?” I asked, “instead of sending me into another mess just after clearing up a mess in Education.”
The President then virtually pleaded with me. He said “No, nobody else can handle Festus except you. Believe me I have called for and looked at the list of Secretaries. You are the only person Festus will respect,” and when I kept on looking at him, he said “Dharmasiri, please go. I can’t change the Minister.” That did it. I didn’t want to embarrass the President by persisting in reluctance. “I need a few days to wind up matters here,” I told him. “I will go and assume duties on June 16.” This was in a week’s time. The President was relieved. He thanked me warmly and I left.
An outpouring of emotion
I did not bargain for the impact the news of my going had on the Ministry. During the next few days hundreds of officers came to see me. Those who could not get to me telephoned me at home. They were very upset. Some were in tears. I was surprised, deeply touched and sometimes overwhelmed by the depth of the reaction. There was much work to be done before I left, including briefings, meetings and attending to many issues which officers wanted to finalize with me before my departure. I had to write a number of letters including to the Chairman UGC and the Vice Chancellors and various other colleagues in the system informing them of my going. This had to be done as a matter of courtesy. I was deeply touched by the replies I received from most of them.
My final day in the Ministry was June 15. The monthly Development Committee Meeting with the Provincial Secretaries of Education, the Provincial Directors and others was fixed for the morning of this day. My officers solicitously inquired from me that since this was my last day and since the meeting was going to take about three quarter of the day, whether it could be postponed, for the new Secretary to fix a date. I thanked them for their concern, but since this date had been fixed a month previously, I said I would proceed with it, since a last minute cancellation would inconvenience many officers. Besides, it was too important a meeting to postpone.
Secretaries could come and go. When the meeting ended at about 2.30 p.m. and when I announced to the Provincial Secretaries and Provincial Directors of Education and others that I had only a few hours left in the Ministry, there was total silence and shocked disbelief. I was deeply touched by the words of some of the Provincial Secretaries and others who spoke with great feeling. Some said that they had somewhat mixed feelings since I was going as Secretary to the Ministry of Public Administration and therefore, as the head of the public service. They said that it could not be said that my presence was not needed there too.
I had to gently intervene and curtail the speeches, because the hour was late and they had not had their lunch. There was also a farewell organized by the Ministry, the Departments and other agencies a little later that afternoon. I just did not have time for lunch that day because there was a stream of officers who wanted to speak with me. This went on until I was reminded that everyone had gathered on the ground floor awaiting my arrival. There was as large a crowd gathered as on the day that Mr. Lalith Athulathmudali bade farewell.
Many spoke. Many of the speeches were quite emotional. When I looked around there were many officers, both men and women with tears pouring down as they stood. The crowd was so large that except for a few of us, providing seats was not possible. As the speeches went on well past 4.30 p.m. no one moved. Normally there is a rush to catch a bus or a train All this affected me too, and when it came to my turn to speak, I spoke with great difficulty. It is not easy to speak when you see so many tearful faces around you. It was a very emotional moment for all of us.
Never in my life, before or after had I experienced such spontaneous mass emotion, and this from officers of a Ministry, which many of my friends out of a feeling of kindness for me, thought I should not have gone to, at the time I was originally appointed as Secretary. The staff had also contributed and bought a huge brass lamp and some other items as gifts. It was with a heavy heart that I left the Ministry for what I thought was the last time, that evening. I was not to know that fate had other designs in store for me.
(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, the autobiography of MDD Pieris)
Features
Lost opportunities for meaningful constitutional reform
I am honoured to be invited to speak at the launch of Dr. Wickramaratne’s Constitutional Conversations. Dr. Wickramaratne, who has had a ringside view of the trajectory of Sri Lanka’s Constitution for over three decades, writes not as someone who has merely studied constitutional events from a distance, but as one who has lived through them — experiencing at first hand the successes, hopes, fears, disappointments and the unfulfilled promises of the constitution-making process.
Reading through the chapters of this book, one cannot help but regret the lost opportunities for meaningful reform and how, over the years, history has repeated itself in the process of constitutional making and of the tragic failure to learn from the lessons of history.
Dr. Wickramaratne became part of the reform process 32 years ago, in 1994, and, to this day, successive governments have failed in the efforts to replace the 1978 Constitution. Political opportunism, vacillation, the lack of political will, and the failure at consensus building, have doomed each of these efforts. Dr. Wickramaratne takes us through events which stalled every effort towards a constitution that would truly uphold the ideals of democracy and constitutionalism.
We are also reminded that three-fourths of the amendments to the Constitution were passed within the first decade of the birth of the Constitution, when five-sixths of the Parliament was with one political party. As Dr. Wickramaratne shows in taking the reader through the travails of the constitutional process – both the process of constitutional amendment and the bid to have a new constitution, the failure of politicians to act as statesmen, to think of the broader interest of the nation rather than their own narrow parochial interests – have meant the failure of genuine constitutional reform.
Constitutional Conversations
leaves us with the question as to how long more the people of Sri Lanka would have to wait for a Constitution with the Founding Constitutional Principles and Values that the Collective for Democracy and Rule of Law, set out on the eve of the 2024 Presidential Elections, including, among other things, human dignity, ethnic, gender and social equality, the supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law and non-concentration of state power in one individual or institution.
Key among Dr. Wickramaratne’s proposals is his insistence that any new constitution must be marked by a dynamic interpretation of constitutional provisions to advance justice and equality, a focus on social justice and participatory democracy, and a constitution that evolves rather than remains frozen in time.
Much of Constitutional Conversations centres around the theme of constitutional reform — its key issues, fundamental rights and the judiciary, and devolution — themes which have long been dear to Dr. Wickramaratne and which he continues to champion.
Ever present throughout Constitutional Conversations is the need to protect democracy and constitutionalism — and the sobering lesson of Sri Lanka’s own experience of elected governments.
Dr Wickremeratne’s experiences and his honest assessment of the development of Sri Lanka’s Constitution, remind us that democracy, constitutionalism and the institutions which hold them together can at no time be taken for granted — and that protecting them is part of a lived struggle.
Democracy needs to be defended, sometimes from the very leaders who are elected at an election. An election, however free and fair, may not guarantee the protection of democracy or stop them if they overreach.
The temptation will always be to believe that this time, concentrated power will be used wisely; that leaders can be trusted with fewer checks because their cause is just and their intentions pure. Every democracy that has slid backward believed exactly that — right up until it could no longer reverse course.
Sri Lanka’s experience is that governments that win with large majorities are still governments that can be wrong, that can be tempted by their massive majorities, that can mistake a mandate for a blank cheque.
The history of Sri Lanka has shown that democracy and institutions have faced their biggest challenges at the hands of governments with large parliamentary majorities. The majoritarian Constitution of 1972 which also did away with post enactment judicial review, the 1978 Constitution skewed in favour of a powerful executive President, the 18th Amendment to the Constitution rolling back the positives of the 17th, the 20th Amendment to the Constitution pushing back against the 19th Amendment, are few examples of how large Parliamentary majorities have resulted in democratic backsliding. In contrast, the relatively pro- democracy 17th, 19th and 21st Amendments were all the products of Parliaments where governments did not command super majorities and constitutional amendments were the products of consensus.
This brings us to the importance of constitutionalism. The idea that power, even power that arrives through the ballot box, must be limited by the principles of constitutionalism. The entire purpose of constitutionalism is to protect us from that very temptation — including from ourselves, and from even leaders we may like and admire.
Dr. Wickramaratne frames this with a phrase worth remembering: constitutional supremacy means the Constitution stands above temporary political majorities – above the temporary will of whoever happens to hold office this year.
One of the most useful ideas the book offers is the distinction between two competing visions of where ultimate authority lies in a state.
In the British tradition —Parliament is sovereign. In some aspects Sri Lanka follows this in preventing post enactment judicial review. Even where the law infringes constitutional provisions, and even where Parliament itself has not followed its own proper internal processes. Whilst it may be argued that this model has its virtues in that it trusts the wisdom of elected representatives, it has a fatal weakness. If Parliament is supreme, then a Parliament captured by a determined majority can rewrite the rules of the game itself — extend its own term, dismantle the courts that might check it, remove the safeguards that protect minorities — and there is, within that legal logic, no wrong being done. It is all perfectly “legal”.
Constitutional supremacy answers this by placing something above Parliament: a constitution that even the majority cannot casually amend, interpreted by courts empowered to strike down actions — legislative and executive — that violate it. Dr. Wickramaratne argues, and I think correctly, that constitutional supremacy serves democracy better than parliamentary supremacy, precisely because it protects democracy from its own majorities. It is not anti-democratic to limit majority rule. It is what makes majority rule safe to have in the first place.
The book devotes a great deal of attention to a theme that will be familiar to anyone watching politics anywhere in the world today: the concentration of power in the executive, and other institutions of the state allowing themselves to be subsumed by an all-powerful executive.
In the United States we see how the Supreme Court has expanded the boundaries of the executive Presidency – almost holding the President to be above the law. In the case relating to the immunity of President Trump from criminal action the dissenting judgment of Justice Sonia Sotomayor accused the majority of the court of “making a mockery of the principle, foundational to our Constitution and system of Government, that no man is above the law.”
Dr. Wickremeratne treats the concentration of power in an executive presidency as having fundamentally disturbed the constitutional balance — weakening Parliament, undermining accountability, and diminishing the sovereignty that is supposed to reside in the people.
He does not treat this as one design flaw among many that can be patched. He argues that piecemeal adjustment is not enough — that meaningful democratic consolidation requires structural change: collegial decision-making, collective responsibility, and power genuinely shared rather than concentrated in one office. Hence the need to abolish the Executive Presidency.
Dr. Wickramaratne’s chapters on executive power, on the appointment and removal of the Prime Minister, and on strengthening Parliament all speak to the dangers of democratic backsliding. He warns that Sri Lanka’s democracy cannot be held hostage to the whims of successive Presidents who have concentrated power, weakened institutions and undermined accountability.
Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, in their seminal work How Democracies Die, remind us that blatant dictatorship — fascism, communism, military rule — has largely disappeared from the world, and that most countries now hold regular elections; yet democracies still die — only by different, quieter means.
I quote ‘ There are no tanks in the streets. Constitutions and other nominally democratic institutions remain in place. People still vote. Elected autocrats maintain a veneer of democracy while eviscerating its substance.
Because there is no single moment – no coup, declaration of martial law or suspension of the constitution – in which the regime obviously crosses the line into dictatorship, nothing may set off society’s alarm bells. Those who denounce government abuse may be dismissed as exaggerating or crying wolf. Democracy’s erosion is, for many, almost imperceptible.’
Democratic backsliding rarely announces itself with tanks in the street. It usually begins quietly — institutions persuaded to defer to an executive “just this once,” an institution whose independence is trimmed, an amendment or a law that is allowed to be passed to address “the crisis at hand.” Each step is small. Each step is defensible in isolation, but indefensible when one looks at the big picture. And each step makes the next step on the road to autocracy easier.
The book takes us through the rise and fall of Sri Lanka’s 19th Amendment — a reform that clawed back power for Parliament and strengthened checks on the executive — only to be largely repealed by the 20th Amendment. The author makes a striking point that the lasting importance of that amendment lies not in how long it survived, but in the democratic ideal it expressed — a demonstration that limits on executive power were possible, and that they enjoyed genuine public support.
However, the fate of the 19th Amendment also warns us that progressive reform can never be taken for granted and that popular will is fickle and can change in a moment. Hence the need to strengthen the institutions from backsliding, independent of those who may man them for the time being.
A constitution that limits power on paper is meaningless if there is no institution independent enough to enforce that limit.
Dr. Wickramaratne draws a comparison many of us will recognise: the American case of Marbury v Madison, in which the United States Supreme Court, under Chief Justice Marshall, first asserted the power of judicial review — the authority of courts to strike down laws that conflict with the constitution. That single doctrinal move, over two centuries ago, is the ancestor of every modern court that today tells an elected government: this, you may not do. In the history of the second republican constitution, the decision of the Supreme Court in the Kalawana Determination where the Government attempted to thwart the outcome of an election petition and to seat an unseated member in Parliament and the decisions of the Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court in the cases relating to the dissolution of Parliament in 2018 are notable examples as to how the Sri Lankan Courts demonstrated their will to ensure constitutionalism.
An independent judiciary is not a technicality. It is the mechanism by which constitutional supremacy becomes real rather than aspirational. Human rights that exist only on paper, unenforceable and undefended, are not rights — but rather are mere wishes. The book insists that fundamental rights must be real and enforceable, not merely aspirational, and that this depends entirely on a judiciary with the courage and independence to act as a check, even against a popular government.
But the judiciary cannot do this alone. A resilient democracy needs a network of institutions reinforcing one another: a Parliament with genuine oversight power rather than a rubber stamp; independent commissions insulated from the executive of the day; a public service and police that answer to law rather than to political patronage; a free and independent media – be it state or private media- that can expose overreach before it hardens into precedent a strong and independent legal profession and a vibrant civil society.
When any one of these institutions is captured or hollowed out, the others are weakened, too —Backsliding happens when any one of these pieces is allowed to erode — when an institution is quietly weakened, when a legislature stops asking hard questions, when “emergency” powers become permanent, when constitutional supremacy is treated as an inconvenience rather than a safeguard, when media whether they be state or private become mouthpieces of any government failing in their role to be sentinels over government.
There is one more dimension of the book I want to bring to you. The author argues that in a plural society — one with real ethnic, religious, or regional diversity — devolution of power is not a political concession granted grudgingly from the centre but rather a constitutional necessity.
A state that centralises all authority in one office, unchecked by courts or a genuine legislature, is also a state more prone to governing for the majority community at the expense of minorities. Meaningful power-sharing, the book argues, is indispensable not only for preserving national unity but for laying the foundation for lasting peace between communities.
Democracy gives us the right to choose who governs. Constitutionalism is what stops the chosen from ruling without limit. Institutions — courts, legislatures, election bodies, a free media, an independent legal profession, civil society — are the instruments through which that limit is actually enforced, day to day, case to case. And devolution, in divided societies, is how constitutionalism extends its protection beyond the individual to the community.
The book’s central lesson, to my mind, is this: constitutional reform is never a one-time achievement to be filed away. It is a continuing conversation — as the title itself suggests — that each generation must be willing to have again, honestly, and sometimes at real political cost.
Dr. Wickramaratne reminds us that a constitution is a living commitment we renew — in our courts, in our legislatures, in the vigilance of a free press, and in the everyday insistence that no office, however popular, stands above the law. That is how democracy survives its own successes and its own crises alike. That is the conversation this book invites us to keep having.
Dr. Wickramaratne may I congratulate you for this book and it is my wish that you will continue to contribute for many years to come to the development of constitutional discourse in our nation. (Concluded)
Speech delivered by Saliya Pieris, PC
former President of the Bar Association of Sri Lanka,
at the launch of Dr.Jayampathy Wickramaratne’s Constitutional Conversations
on 16 July, 2026.
Features
The Curious Naturalist: Rohan Pethiyagoda’s invaluable gift to Sri Lankan nature lovers
There are books that simply inform, and there are books that change the way we see the world. Rohan Pethiyagoda’s latest work, The Curious Naturalist, belongs firmly in the latter category.
For over three decades, Pethiyagoda has been one of the most influential voices in Sri Lankan biodiversity, inspiring scientists, conservationists and ordinary citizens alike to look beyond the obvious and appreciate the extraordinary richness of the island’s natural heritage.
His landmark publication, Freshwater Fishes of Sri Lanka, published in 1991, brought him national recognition and marked the beginning of a remarkable scientific journey. Since then, the biomedical engineer-turned-naturalist has authored nearly 100 scientific papers and books, discovered dozens of new species, earned international acclaim and become one of Sri Lanka’s foremost ambassadors for biodiversity conservation.
Yet his achievements extend far beyond scientific discovery.
He has consistently used his international reputation to champion environmental causes, support young Sri Lankan researchers and stand up for issues he believes affect the country’s future. Whether through conservation advocacy or public-interest litigation, Pethiyagoda has demonstrated that science and citizenship can work hand in hand.

The flower of Huberantha korinti, which attracts its weevil pollinators by warming a special chamber in which they are pampered. It is one of the many instances of bribery, deception and cheating in the natural world discussed in the book. The author shows that both plants and animals exhibit evidence of not only morality but also immorality.
Now, as he approaches his 70th birthday, he says The Curious Naturalist will be his final solo publication—a decision not born out of fatigue, but of conviction.
“I think it is important to know when to quit,” he says candidly, explaining that while he will no longer produce books under his own name, he intends to continue collaborating with younger scientists, helping them publish their own discoveries and contribute to Sri Lanka’s growing body of biodiversity knowledge.
Far from being an autobiography, The Curious Naturalist is exactly what its title suggests—a celebration of curiosity.
The beautifully produced volume contains 132 richly illustrated essays, each focusing on an intriguing aspect of the natural world. Rather than presenting complicated scientific terminology, Pethiyagoda writes in a style that is accessible, engaging and often surprising.
His objective is simple: to encourage readers to pause, observe and ask “Why?”
That, he believes, is the beginning of every scientific journey.
Children naturally ask endless questions about the world around them. Adults, however, often lose that sense of wonder.
Pethiyagoda believes familiarity blinds us to the marvels surrounding us every day. We pass trees, insects, birds and streams without giving them a second glance. Yet beneath that apparent familiarity lies a universe of extraordinary stories waiting to be discovered.
The essays invite readers to rediscover that forgotten curiosity.
Consider something as ordinary as a jack tree.
Many Sri Lankans enjoy its fruit throughout their lives, but surprisingly few have actually seen its flowers. Likewise, breadfruit is a familiar food, yet most people have never wondered where its seeds are.
These seemingly simple questions become gateways into fascinating scientific explanations that reveal nature’s remarkable ingenuity.
One particularly memorable example comes from Sri Lanka’s celebrated national parks.
Travellers heading through Yala or Wilpattu often notice clusters of spider webs hanging from roadside shrubs. Most motorists drive past without giving them a second thought.
Pethiyagoda explains that these belong to spiders exhibiting astonishingly sophisticated social behaviour, including cooperation, altruism, colonisation and even forms of nepotism—qualities people generally associate only with human societies.
Understanding these remarkable creatures transforms what was once an ordinary roadside scene into a fascinating lesson in evolution.
Larger animals receive equal attention
Why do nuthatches climb down tree trunks while woodpeckers move upwards? How do archer fish accurately shoot insects above the water’s surface? Why are peacocks brilliantly coloured while peahens remain comparatively plain?
Each question opens the door to deeper scientific explanations, revealing how evolution has shaped the behaviour and appearance of species over countless generations.
Remarkably, the book also explores the hidden lives of plants.
Readers learn that plants can deceive pollinators, manipulate insects and employ strategies that almost resemble dishonesty and bribery. Such revelations challenge conventional thinking and demonstrate that nature is far more dynamic and complex than most people imagine.
Pethiyagoda does not shy away from sensitive subjects either
Several essays discuss sex-role reversal and same-sex behaviour in animals—not to create controversy but to illustrate that biological diversity extends to behaviour as well as appearance. Such observations, he says, help us better understand ourselves and appreciate the extraordinary variety found throughout the natural world.
His reflections on animal intelligence are among the book’s most thought-provoking sections.
Whether describing macaques with intricate social systems, highly intelligent Portia spiders from Sinharaja, or the remarkable awareness displayed by lobsters and cuttlefish, Pethiyagoda invites readers to reconsider humanity’s relationship with other living creatures.
Increasing scientific evidence, he notes, suggests many animals possess levels of awareness and sentience that deserve greater respect and ethical consideration.
The book itself is a visual masterpiece
Its striking cover, designed by biologist and digital artist Gayan Hirimuthugoda, portrays an imaginary Sri Lankan Garden of Eden populated by almost one hundred species.
Inside, readers will discover nearly 700 illustrations, many contributed by more than thirty young Sri Lankan naturalists.
The decision to involve younger contributors reflects Pethiyagoda’s enduring commitment to nurturing the country’s next generation of scientists and conservation leaders.
Equally significant is the foreword.
Instead of inviting a famous public figure to introduce the book, Pethiyagoda selected former student Dr. Hiranya Sudasinghe, believing the book ultimately belongs to the generation that will inherit Sri Lanka’s conservation challenges.
It is a gesture that perfectly reflects the author’s lifelong commitment to mentorship.
Perhaps the most inspiring aspect of The Curious Naturalist lies beyond its pages
Pethiyagoda has chosen to donate the entire proceeds from book sales to the Wildlife & Nature Protection Society, after Dilmah Conservation generously funded the production of the volume.
It is an extraordinary act of generosity that reinforces his belief that conservation is about investing in institutions and people who will continue protecting Sri Lanka long into the future.
As our conversation drew to a close, Pethiyagoda spoke not about awards or personal achievements, but about helping young scientists fulfil their dreams and reviving his public-interest YouTube channel to continue sharing knowledge with wider audiences.
That perhaps explains why The Curious Naturalist feels so different from many contemporary books.
It is not merely a catalogue of facts or a collection of essays.
It is an invitation to rediscover the joy of observation.
In a world increasingly dominated by screens, algorithms and hurried lives, Pethiyagoda gently reminds readers that some of life’s greatest wonders remain hidden in forests, rivers, gardens, roadside trees and even the smallest creatures beneath our feet.
For a country celebrated as one of the world’s biodiversity hotspots, this message is especially timely.
Conservation begins with appreciation, appreciation begins with understanding, and understanding begins with curiosity.
With The Curious Naturalist, Rohan Pethiyagoda offers Sri Lanka not simply another book, but a lasting legacy—one that encourages every reader to slow down, look more closely and fall in love with nature all over again.
By Ifham Nizam
Features
America at 250: Most unfitting President, Biggest World Cup Tournament
The world’s oldest constitutional democracy turned 250 on the Fourth of July, two weeks ago. It is a rather quirky coincidence that in the 250th year of its largely successful existence, America should be having as its president the most unfitting person in history, and that in keeping with the American trait for mixing serious purposes with fun and play, it should also be hosting perhaps the largest edition of the World Cup Football Tournament. The triple coincidence – the anniversary, Trump presidency and the World Cup – is not without some meaning.
The essence of the Trump presidency has been to recast America in the mould of Trump’s own vulgar and outlandish presuppositions about who belongs in America and what the rest of the world owes to America. Internal exclusions and external isolation have always been a part of American history, but Trump’s project has been to make them America’s sole and permanent purpose. Make America great again by making it more intolerant and more imperfect, as opposed to pursuing the country’s founding purpose of striving towards a “more perfect union.”
Trump is also giving a new meaning to America’s exceptional isolationism by slashing immigration, deporting American residents whom he and his Maga cabal don’t like for the vilest of reasons, withdrawing from global agencies that America created and closing down American agencies providing global services, imposing tariffs on every country and deeming them as payment for America’s past generosity under weak presidents, and threatening neighbours with annexation while militarily attacking others.
He got his nose bloodied after listening to Netanyahu and starting a fight with Iran, made a fool of himself by first announcing that he will provide safe passage to ships through the Strait of Hormuz and charge them 20% of their cargo value, and immediately withdrawing it after being told that it was a lamebrained and impractical idea. The Iranian Foreign Minister tweeted that it is a good approach but 20% is too high! The reality is that Iran has effectively closed the strait again, after Trump said his ceasefire with Iran is over, and there is nothing the might of America can do about it – thanks solely to Trump.
The world, not to mention America, are back to where it was soon after February 28. And Trump is back to February 28, with more attacks on Iran while telling Israel to keep out of it and hoping that Iran will soon come to the table. The Iranian regime is insisting that it is Trump and not Iran who will have to blink first again. For the rest of the world and the people of America, fuel and fertilizer prices are again rising along with the prices of goods and services that depend on them.
Meanwhile, the Fourth of July marking America’s 250th Anniversary of American independence has come and gone. Every year, Americans cheer and celebrate the Fourth of July as a civic festival in their local communities. Families take their children to Washington, Philadelphia, Gettysburg and other historical sites to learn and appreciate their history. The state hardly gets involved and there are no military parades or flights of fighter jets. Trump changed it last year by holding a military parade in Washington but it did not excite anyone. The army had to go to extraordinary lengths to protect the city roads from cracking up while parading its massive tanks. This year Trump’s efforts to turn the 250th anniversary celebration into a personal vanity affair spectacularly backfired and what was becoming a national damp squib. Not so ironically, it was rescued by the 2026 World Cup tournament that began on Thursday, June 11 and will end on Sunday, July 19.
World Cup Down to the Wire
The 23rd FIFA World Cup hosted by America, Mexico and Canada with matches played in 16 cities – 11 in the US, three in Mexico and two in Canada – became a significant occasion for the US. It provided an antidote to Trump’s vain and unsuccessful usurpation of the country’s 250th anniversary, even as it became an occasion to show the world that there is still much more likeable about America in spite of all the ugly MAGA makeover that Trump has been giving it from the White House.
What is unique about America is that it is the first and the only immigrant country to become a superpower in world history. An open door country with a melting pot ethos, America has consistently struggled at every stage of its evolution to defy the homogeneity of the privileged, and to celebrate across-the-board heterogeneity in every aspect of the human condition. If the purpose of Trump’s presidency has been to break this arc of American history, the World Cup became an occasion to demonstrate that the arc will continue in spite of Trump.
The World Cup was an eye opener to both resident Americans and visiting football worshippers. Except for the Olympics sporting events, competitive sports in America are dominated by (American) Football, Baseball, Basketball and (Ice) Hockey, and the competitions are all limited to American teams along with some Canadian teams especially in Hockey. The extent of any international connection is limited to allowing players from Central America and Japan for Baseball, and from Canada and Eastern Europe for Hockey. In other words, American notions of exclusivity and self-sufficiency seamlessly extend to the world of sports from the universe of politics and economics.
The arrival of the World Cup, 32 years after America hosted its first and only World Cup in 1994, was an eye opener to American sports fans and the general public. This was international sports at their doorstep and an occasion to live through the experience of witnessing the world’s best exponents of the game fiercely displaying their talents in friendly competitions. The visiting fans who thronged the games brought life and diversity and retail spin offs to the cities where the games were played. The visitors to a person, both players and fans, were enthralled by the magnificence of America’s sporting facilities and the range of amusement and entertainment the host cities offered.
The tournament also became a smorgasbord of different nationalisms from around the world but manifesting pride and passion in support of national football teams and not boastful belligerence about national militaries. The teams were also more equal on the pitch than their governments are at the UN podium. The better teams of the day won in the end but every team made each game as competitive as it could. Small countries from West Asia, Africa and little Atlantic islands went boot-to-boot with European and South American giants and kept everyone guessing until the final whistle. The really big Asian countries – China, India, Indonesia etc. – could not qualify for admission, while Asia’s two industrial giants – Japan and South Korea – acquitted themselves well even though they were unlucky not to go beyond the group stage.
The team that America fielded should not have been allowed to represent the country based on Trump’s executive negation of all DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) programs in government and in federal hiring. But it did and the US team would have made the 1960s promoters of cross-racial ‘rainbow’ alliances proud. Similar rainbow teams have become the norm of almost all West European countries and England.
Players of colour have become superstars in western football teams and have quite clearly internalized natal nationalism as opposed to being assimilated by them. They are all descendants of birthright citizens of the old empires, a legal tradition that is more universal and anterior to the abolition of slavery and the 14th Amendment in the US, as Chief Justice John Roberts reminded the Trump Administration in overturning its executive order to end the recognition of birthright citizenship in America. A practice that is shared by three dozen countries.
The US Team at the World Cup began as a promising outfit playing with flair and freewheeling style and could have gone as far as the Quarter Finals to play Spain. The team was undone prematurely by Trump’s sleazy intervention with FIFA bosses to suspend the Red Card penalty ban of a US player, Folarin Balogun, for a foul he had committed in an earlier match. Trump’s role and the penalty suspension created a public uproar and in the upshot an inspired Belgium trounced the US whose players performed very poorly perhaps under the weight of the embarrassment that their President had inflicted on them.
The World Cup tournament itself is now down to the final match, the 104th of the tournament, on Sunday, July 19th, between the reigning World Cup champions, Argentina, and Spain, the current Euro Cup holders. The match for the Third Place will be played on Saturday (July 18), between France who lost 0-2 to Spain in a surprisingly one-sided game, and England who went down in a heartbreaking 1-2 defeat to Argentina after leading 1-0 up till five minutes before the final whistle.
The French were the tournament’s cracking team till they came up against Spain who had been belabouring until then. The English team had bestirred all of England back home with their gritty win against Mexico in its national stadium full of 85,000 spectators, but once again came up short in the penultimate game.
The final between Argentina and Spain will feature the 39 year old Argentinian maestro, Lionel Messi, looking to win his second World Cup, and the 19 year old Spanish prodigy, Lamine Yamal. The football internet is abuzz with a 2007 photograph showing then 20 year old Messi carrying Yamal as an infant during a photo session in Barcelona, Spain, where Messi played club football. On Sunday, in New York/New Jersey, they will face each other in a spirited encounter for the biggest prize in sports.
by Rajan Philips
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