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Reimagining Sri Lankan education: Beyond entitlement to empowerment – Part II

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Schoolchildren: A representative image courtesy UNICEF

(Continued from yesterday)

The Crisis of Curriculum and the Absence of Originality

The failings of the Sri Lankan education system are not confined to its funding model; they are deeply embedded in the very content of what is taught and how it is assessed. The current curriculum is widely criticised for being outdated, rigid, and disconnected from the realities of the 21st-century global economy. It prioritises rote memorization over critical thinking, theoretical knowledge over practical application, and conformity over creativity. The result is a system that produces graduates who may be academically proficient but are often ill-equipped for the demands of the modern workplace. They lack the problem-solving skills, the adaptability, and the innovative mindset that are the hallmarks of a successful knowledge-based economy.

This “absence of originality” is a direct consequence of a system that has for too long been insulated from the forces of change. The world is undergoing a rapid technological transformation, yet the Sri Lankan classroom remains largely untouched by this revolution. While students outside the school gates are avidly consuming information from a vast and dynamic digital universe—learning from Wikipedia, YouTube, and other online platforms—the school curriculum remains tethered to outdated textbooks and antiquated teaching methods. This creates a jarring disconnect for young learners, who quickly perceive the irrelevance of what they are being taught in schools. The result is disengagement, disillusionment, and a loss of genuine interest in the formal learning process.

The assessment methods employed by the system further exacerbate this problem. The high-stakes, examination-oriented culture places immense pressure on students, forcing them to focus on memorizing facts and figures for the sole purpose of passing exams. This “exam fever” has spawned a massive shadow education industry in the form of private tuition centers, which drains significant financial resources from families and further entrenches the culture of rote learning. The system, in effect, punishes creativity and rewards conformity, stifling the very qualities that are most needed to drive innovation and progress.

Meaningful reform must therefore begin with a “creative destruction” of the current curriculum. This does not mean abandoning core subjects or academic rigor. Rather, it means reorienting the entire educational philosophy towards the development of 21st-century skills: critical thinking, creativity, collaboration, and communication. It means embracing technology not as a peripheral add-on but as a central tool for learning and discovery. It means shifting from a teacher-centric model of instruction to a student-centric model of inquiry-based learning. And it means fundamentally rethinking assessment, moving away from a singular focus on high-stakes examinations towards a more holistic approach that values a diverse range of skills and competencies. This will require a significant investment in teacher training and professional development, as well as a willingness to experiment with new pedagogical approaches. The goal should be to create a learning environment that is dynamic, engaging, and relevant—one that sparks curiosity, fosters a love of lifelong learning, and empowers students to become not just consumers of knowledge but creators of it.

The Path to Reform: Consultation, Innovation, and Political Will

The road to educational reform is fraught with challenges, but it is a journey that Sri Lanka can no longer afford to postpone. The process must be guided by a clear set of principles, beginning with a genuine commitment to multi-stakeholder consultation. For too long, educational policy has been a top-down affair, with reforms conceived in the corridors of power and imposed upon a largely passive public. This approach has bred mistrust and resistance, with many well-intentioned initiatives failing to gain traction due to a lack of buy-in from key stakeholders. The loudest and most persistent criticism often comes from the teaching and academic communities, who rightly feel that they have been marginalised in a process that directly impacts their professional lives.

A new approach is needed, one that is rooted in the principles of social dialogue and participatory governance. As the United Nations has warned, declining trust in public institutions is a global phenomenon, exacerbated by the spread of misinformation and disinformation. The only way to counter this trend and build the social cohesion necessary for meaningful reform is to create inclusive platforms for dialogue, where all voices can be heard. This means engaging not just with academics and policymakers, but with teachers, parents, students, civil society organisations, and the private sector. The student voice, in particular, is a critical but often-overlooked resource. Young people have a unique and valuable perspective on the shortcomings of the current system, and their insights must be actively sought and incorporated into the reform process. This consultative approach may be time-consuming, but it is the only way to ensure that the resulting reforms are relevant, effective, and sustainable. It is the only way to move from a culture of finding problems in solutions to one of collaboratively finding solutions to long-standing problems.

Alongside this commitment to consultation, there must be a willingness to embrace innovation, particularly in the realm of financing. The current state-funded model is clearly broken. The argument that the state must be the sole funder of education to protect it from the perils of privatisation is a false dichotomy. It ignores the reality that a vast and unregulated private education market already exists, in the form of tuition centers and foreign university affiliations, which siphons off billions of rupees that could be channeled into the formal system. The challenge is not to resist private investment but to harness it in a way that serves the public good.

This requires a radical rethinking of the funding model. One promising approach is to move towards a system where state funding follows the student, rather than the institution. This could be achieved through a system of means-tested vouchers or scholarships, which would empower parents and students to choose the educational institution—be it public or private—that best meets their needs. This would introduce a healthy element of competition into the system, incentivizing schools and universities to improve their quality and responsiveness. It would also allow for the introduction of user fees for those who can afford to pay, while ensuring that the state continues to provide a safety net for the poor and marginalised. This would create a more sustainable and equitable funding model, one that leverages both public and private resources to create a high-quality education system for all.

Such a proposal will undoubtedly face stiff opposition from those who are vested in the current system, particularly from those who benefit from the comforts of the entitlement-based compensation structure. The Federation of University Teachers Association (FUTA), for example, has historically campaigned for a guaranteed 6% of GDP to be allocated to education, a demand that is understandable within the current paradigm but which becomes less relevant in a more diversified and self-sustaining funding model. Overcoming this resistance will require immense political will and a courageous leadership that is willing to challenge entrenched interests and make the case for a new social contract for education.

Conclusion: A Call to Action for a New Era

The evidence is overwhelming, the arguments compelling. Sri Lanka’s education system is in a state of profound crisis, a crisis that threatens the very future of the nation. The system, born of a desire to correct historical injustices, has become a prisoner of its own past, trapped in a cycle of political expediency, chronic underfunding, and intellectual stagnation. The entitlement culture it has fostered has created a sense of dependency that stifles individual initiative and national progress. The curriculum, rooted in the industrial age, is failing to prepare young people for the challenges and opportunities of the digital age. The result is a tragic waste of human potential, a “brain drain” of the nation’s brightest minds, and a growing sense of disillusionment and despair among the youth.

But this is not a moment for despair; it is a moment for decision. The “Aragalaya” movement of 2021-22 was a powerful expression of the public’s desire for systemic change. The challenge now is to translate that desire into a concrete and actionable plan for reform. This will require a level of political courage and national unity that has been sorely lacking in recent decades. It will require a leadership that is willing to look beyond the next election cycle and make the long-term investments necessary to build a world-class education system.

The path forward is clear. It begins with a fundamental shift in mindset, a move away from the debilitating narrative of “education for free” towards the empowering vision of true “free education.” It requires the creation of a diverse, dynamic, and competitive educational landscape, where choice and opportunity are available to all, and where the state’s role is to ensure equity and excellence. It demands a radical overhaul of the curriculum, one that prioritizses critical thinking, creativity, and lifelong learning. And it necessitates a new social contract for education, one that is built on the principles of shared responsibility, multi-stakeholder collaboration, and innovative financing.

The task is monumental, but the stakes could not be higher. The future prosperity of Sri Lanka, its ability to compete in the global economy, and the well-being of its citizens all depend on the choices that are made today. The time for incremental change has passed. The moment for a paradigm shift has arrived. Let this be the generation that finally breaks free from the shackles of the past and builds an education system that is worthy of the talent and potential of the Sri Lankan people. Let this be the generation that transforms education from a source of entitlement into a catalyst for empowerment, and in so doing, charts a new and brighter course for the future of the nation.

by Jayasri Priyalal



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Partnering India without dependence

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President Dissanayake with Indian PM Modi

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi once again signaled the priority India places on Sri Lanka by swiftly dispatching a shipload of petrol following a telephone conversation with President Anura Kumara Dissanayake. The Indian Prime Minister’s gesture came at a cost to India, where there have been periodic supply constraints and regional imbalances in fuel distribution, even if not a countrywide shortage. Under Prime Minister Modi, India has demonstrated to Sri Lanka an abundance of goodwill, whether it be the USD 4 billion it extended in assistance to Sri Lanka when it faced international bankruptcy in 2022 or its support in the aftermath of the Ditwah cyclone disaster that affected large parts of the country four months ago. India’s assistance in 2022 was widely acknowledged as critical in stabilising Sri Lanka at a moment of acute crisis.

This record of assistance suggests that India sees Sri Lanka not merely as a neighbour but as a partner whose stability is in its own interest. In contrast to Sri Lanka’s roughly USD 90 billion economy, India’s USD 4,500 billion economy, growing at over 6 percent, underlines the vast asymmetry in economic scale and the importance of Sri Lanka engaging India. A study by the Germany-based Kiel Institute for the World Economy identifies Sri Lanka as the second most vulnerable country in the world to severe food price surges due to its heavy reliance on imported energy and fertilisers. Income per capita remains around the 2018 level after the economic collapse of 2022. The poverty level has risen sharply and includes a quarter of the population. These indicators underline the urgency of sustained economic recovery and the importance of external partnerships, including with India.

It is, however, important for Sri Lanka not to abdicate its own responsibilities for improving the lives of its people or become dependent and take this Indian assistance for granted. A long unresolved issue that Sri Lanka has been content to leave the burden to India concerns the approximately 90,000 Sri Lankan refugees who continue to live in India, many of them for over three decades. Only recently has a government leader, Minister Bimal Rathnayake, publicly acknowledged their existence and called on them to return. This is a reminder that even as Sri Lanka receives support, it must also take ownership of its own unfinished responsibilities.

Missing Investment

A missing factor in Sri Lanka’s economic development has long been the paucity of foreign investment. In the past this was due to political instability caused by internal conflict, weaknesses in the rule of law, and high levels of corruption. There are now significant improvements in this regard. There is now a window to attract investment from development partners, including India. In his discussions with President Dissanayake, Prime Minister Modi is reported to have referred to the British era oil storage tanks in Trincomalee. These were originally constructed to service the British naval fleet in the Indian Ocean. In 1987, under the Indo Lanka Peace Accord, Sri Lanka agreed to develop these tanks in partnership with India. A further agreement was signed in 2022 involving the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation and the Lanka Indian Oil Corporation to jointly develop the facility.

However, progress has been slow and the project remains only partially implemented. The value of these oil storage tanks has become clearer in the context of global energy uncertainty and tensions in the Middle East. Energy analysts have pointed out that strategic storage facilities can provide countries with greater resilience in times of supply disruption. The Trincomalee tanks could become a significant strategic asset not only for Sri Lanka but also for regional energy security. However, historical baggage continues to stand in the way of Sri Lanka’s deeper economic linkage with India. Both ancient and modern history shape perceptions on both sides.

The asymmetry in size and power between the two countries is a persistent concern within Sri Lanka. India is a regional power, while Sri Lanka is a small country. This imbalance creates both opportunities for partnership and anxieties about overdependence. The present government too has entered into economic and infrastructure agreements with India, but many of these have yet to move beyond initial stages. This has caused frustration to the Indian government, which sees its efforts to support Sri Lanka’s development as not being sufficiently appreciated or effectively utilised. From India’s perspective, delays and hesitation can appear as a lack of commitment. From Sri Lanka’s perspective, caution is often driven by domestic political sensitivities and concerns about sovereignty.

Power Imbalance

At the same time, global developments offer a cautionary lesson. The behaviour of major powers in the contemporary international system shows that states often act in their own interests, sometimes at the expense of smaller partners. What is being seen in the world today is that past friendships and commitments can be abandoned if a bigger and more powerful country can see an opportunity for itself. The plight of Denmark (Greenland) and Canada (51st state) give disturbing messages. Analysts in the field of International Relations frequently point out that power asymmetries shape outcomes in bilateral relations. As one widely cited observation by Lord Parlmeston, a 19th century prime minister of Great Britain is that “nations have no permanent friends or allies, they only have permanent interests.” While this may be an overly stark formulation, it captures an underlying reality that small states must navigate carefully.

For Sri Lanka, this means maintaining a balance. It needs to clearly acknowledge the partnership that India is offering in the area of economic development, as well as in education, connectivity, and technological advancement. India has extended scholarships, supported digital infrastructure, and promoted cross border links that can contribute to Sri Lanka’s long term growth. These are tangible benefits that should not be undervalued. At the same time, Sri Lanka needs to ensure that it does not become overly dependent on Indian largesse or drift into a position where it functions as an appendage of its much larger neighbour. Economic dependence can translate into political vulnerability if not carefully managed. The appropriate response is not to distance itself from India, but to broaden its partnerships. Engaging with a diverse range of countries and institutions can provide Sri Lanka with greater autonomy and resilience.

A hard headed assessment would recognise that India’s support is both genuine and interest driven. India has a clear stake in ensuring that Sri Lanka remains stable, prosperous, and aligned with its broader regional outlook. Sri Lanka needs to move forward with agreed projects such as the Trincomalee oil tanks, improve implementation capacity, and demonstrate reliability as a partner. This does not preclude it from actively seeking investment and cooperation from other partners in Asia and beyond. The path ahead is therefore one of balanced engagement. Sri Lanka can and should welcome India’s partnership while strengthening its own institutions, fulfilling its domestic responsibilities, and diversifying its external relations. This approach can transform a relationship shaped by asymmetry into one defined by mutual benefit and confidence.

by Jehan Perera

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The university student

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A file photo of a university students’ protest against private medical colleges

This Article is formed from listening to university students from across the country for two research initiatives, one on academic freedom and another on higher education policy. In speaking with students, the fears they carry could not be ignored. Students navigate university education, with anxieties about their future and fears that they and their university education are inadequate, all while managing their families’ daily struggles. I explore students’ anxieties and the extent to which we, the public, and higher education policies must take responsibility for their experiences.

The Neoliberal University

For decades, universities have been transforming. Neoliberal policies, promoted by the World Bank, have reduced public education expenditure and weakened the State’s commitment to public institutions. These policies frame individuals as responsible for their success and failure, minimising structural realities, such as poverty and precarity. They instrumentalise education, treat students as “products” for a “competitive’ job market, while education markets feed on students’ insecurities. Students are made to feel lacking in “soft skills”, or skills seemingly necessary to navigate classed-corporate structures, and lacking in technical skills, or those needed to operate technologies used within the private sector.

Student activists and, sometimes teachers, have challenged this worldview, demanding State commitment to free education. Governments sometimes yield but also fear the consequences of student politics and have long waged campaigns to discredit student activism. It is within this context that students pursue education.

Portrayal of students

A Peradeniya student told me student-organised events must meet “high standards”, because of the negative public perceptions of university students. I understood what she meant; I had heard of our ‘ungrateful’, ‘wasteful’, ‘unemployable’, and ‘entitled’ students. The media and decades of government propaganda have reinforced these depictions.

About 10 years ago, when government moves to privatise higher education were strong, a corporate executive, complaining about traffic caused by “yet another useless protest”, was unable to explain why they protested. News coverage, I realised, framed these protests as public inconveniences, rarely addressing students’ demands. A prominent advocate, of neoliberal educational policy, reinforced this narrative, saying “state university students make up just 10 percent of their cohorts”, gesturing dismissively as if to say their concerns were insignificant. Such language belittles student activists and youth, renders them voiceless and allows their concerns, such as classed worldviews, and access barriers to and privatisation of education, to be easily dismissed.

It is in this environment that the conception of the useless university student, fighting for no reason, has developed. Students must carry this misrepresentation, irrespective of their own involvement in activism.

Not being good enough

Attacks on free higher education and the absence of meaningful reforms designed to address students’ problems, now weigh on students’ minds. Students question whether their education is relevant and current, pointing to outdated equipment, software, and curricula. University administrators acknowledge these constraints, which reflect Sri Lanka’s ranking as one of the lowest in the world for the public funding of education and higher education.

Rarely has the World Bank, so influential in driving educational policy, highlighted the public funding crisis and, instead, emphasises technological deficiencies, the public sector’s “monopoly” of higher education and limited private sector involvement. It downplays the reality that few families can privately afford such funding arrangements.

Students are also bombarded with fee-levying programmes, promising skills and access to jobs, preying on students’ insecurities. Many, while struggling to make ends meet, enrol in off-campus pricy professional courses, such as in accountancy, marketing, or English.

The arts student

Some students worry their education is too theoretical and “Arts-focused.” A student from the University of Colombo described having to justify her decision to pursue an arts degree. The public, she said, saw this as a waste of her time and the country’s resources. She courageously wore this identity, yet questioned if she was, in fact, unemployable as she was being led to believe.

She does not, however, draw on the fact that arts education has long been the “cheap” option that governments have offered when pressured to expand higher education. While arts education may need fewer laboratories and equipment, they require adequate investments on teachers, strong on content and pedagogy, to closely engage with individual students; aspects of arts education which have systematically been disregarded.

As access broadens, particularly in the arts, more students from marginalised backgrounds have entered universities; students who may feel alien in systems aligned with corporate interests. Thus, students quite different from the classed conception of the “employable graduate,” whose education has systematically been under-funded, graduate from arts programmes frustrated, diffident, and ill-suited for jobs to which they are expected to aspire.

The dysfunctional university

Students voice criticisms of their teachers, as myopic, unworldly, and unfair. Their perspective reflects the universities’ culture of hierarchy and its intolerance of difference, on the one hand, and the weak institutional structures on the other. They are symptoms of years of neglect and attempts by governments to delegitimise universities, to shed themselves of the burden of funding higher education through anti-public sector rhetoric.

Some students, marginalised for being anti-rag, women, or ethnic minorities, feel an added layer of burdens. Anti-rag students, or more often, students who do not submit to university hierarchies, whether enforced by students or staff, are ostracised, demeaned and sometimes subjected to violence. Students unable to speak the institution’s dominant language face inadequate institutional support. Women describe being ignored and silenced in student union activities and left out of student leadership positions.

Furthermore, quality assurance processes rarely prioritise academic freedom or students’ right to exist as they wish, except when they complement the process of creating a desirable graduate for the job market. These processes focus on moulding professionals and technicians, as one would form clay, disregarding students’ anxieties from being alienated from themselves by such efforts.

Problems at home

Beyond the campus, parents face debt, illness, and precarious work. Students are acutely aware of these struggles. Some describe parents collapsing from the strain and sometimes leaving them to carry the family’s difficulties. A student described feeling guilty for being at the University while his family struggled to survive. To ease the burden on their families, students earn incomes by providing tuition, delivering food, and carrying out microbusinesses.

Tied to their concerns over having to depend on their families, is their fear of being “unemployable”, a term that places the blame of unemployment on students’ skill deficiencies. Little in this discourse connects the lack of decent work and jobs for them and their parents to the weak economy and job markets into which successive batches of graduates must transition. Much of the available jobs in the country are those that require little in the form of education, and those, too do little to provide a living wage. Students must, therefore, compete for a limited number and breadth of frankly not very desirable work. Yet, it is they who must feel the weight of unemployability.

Committing to students

Universities frequently fail to recognise students’ worries. Instead, we, coopt neoliberal discourses, telling students to become more marketable and competitive, do and learn more, be confident, improve English, learn to inhabit those classed spaces with ease; often without the support that should accompany these messages.

We expect these students, insecure and anxious, to think critically, and demonstrate curiosity and higher-order analyses. When they collapse under the pressure, universities respond by providing mental health services. While such services are needed, they risk individualising and pathologising systemic problems. They represent yet again the inherent flaws with solutions that emerge from neoliberal ideological positions that treat individuals as the source of all success and failure. Such perspectives are likely to reinforce students’ anxieties, rather than address them.

As Sri Lanka revisits education policy reforms, there is an opportunity to change our framings of education and to recognise these concerns of students as central to any policy. The state must renew its commitment to free education and move from the neoliberal logic that has guided successive reform efforts; we, as the public, must restore our hope and expectations from free education. Education across disciplines, the arts, as well as STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics), must be strengthened. Students’ freedom to inhabit university spaces as they wish, must be respected and protected by institutions. Education policies must be tied to broader economic and labour reforms that ensure families can safely earn a living wage and graduates can access a rich range of decent meaningful work.

(Shamala Kumar teaches at the University of Peradeniya)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

by Shamala Kumar

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On the right track … as a solo artiste

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Mihiri: Worked with several top local band

Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena is certainly on the right track, in the music scene.

The plus factor, where Mihiri is concerned, is that she has music deeply rooted in her upbringing, and is now doing her thing in the Maldives.

Her father, Clifton Gunawardena, was a student of the legendary Premasiri Kemadasa and former rhythm guitarist of the Super 7 band.

Mihiri took to music, after her higher studies, and her first performance was with her father, while employed.

Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena

After eight years of balancing both worlds – working and music – she chose to follow her true calling and embraced music as her full-time profession.

Over the years, Mihiri has worked with some of the top bands in the local scene, including D Major, C Plus from Negombo, Heat with Aubrey, Mirage, D Zone Warehouse Project and Freeze.

In fact, she even put together her own band, Faith, in 2017, performing at numerous events, and weddings, before the Covid pandemic paused their journey.

What’s more, her singing career has taken her across borders –performing twice in Dhaka, Bangladesh, with the late Anil Bharathi and the late Roney Leitch, and multiple times in the Maldives, including a special New Year’s Eve performance with D Major.

In the Maldives, on a one-month contract

Last year, Mihiri was in Dubai, along with the group Knights, for the Ananda UAE 2025 dance.

She continues to grow as a solo artiste, now working closely with the renowned Wildfire guitarist Derek Wikramanayake, and performing, as a freelance musician, travelling around the world.

Right now, she is in the Maldives, on a one-month contract, marking a new chapter in her evolution as a solo vocalist.

On her return, she says, she hopes to create fresh cover songs and original music for her fans.

Mihiri believes in spreading joy and positivity through her singing, and peace and happiness for everyone around her, and for the world, through music.

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