Features
Several missed opportunities of achieving communal harmony
(Continued from Feb. 08)
Although the die had been cast, the next event was a pusillanimous attempt, even the purpose of which was shrouded in doubt and conjecture. This was a tentative legislative step in the form of the District Developments Councils Act of 1980. The legislation was preceded by the appointment of a Presidential Commission, which was presided over by Mr. Victor Tennekoon QC, a former Chief Justice and Attorney General, and comprised a membership of four Sinhalese, three Tamils, and three Muslims.
At the initial stage itself, lack of courage was demonstrated in the reluctance to include in the Terms of Reference any allusion to the ethnic conflict. This gave rise to an irreconcilable difference of opinion among the members as to the nature and scope of their mandate. Hardline opinion within the government precluded direct reference to the ethnic dimension. But some of the members of the Commission, including Professor A. J. Wilson, a close confidant of President J. R. Jayewardene and son-in-law of the leader of the Federal Party, Mr. S. J. V. Chelvanayakam, had secured informal agreement with the President that the government would be well disposed to consideration of broader issues having a bearing on the ethnic conflict, should these be addressed in the contents of the report. This was, however, strongly resisted by the majority of the members who were inclined to adopt a narrow, technical interpretation of the Terms of Reference.
In the end, the report of the majority tended to have an exclusively administrative focus. The thrust of the recommendations had to do with making district administration more receptive to the needs of the people in the 25 administrative districts, and improving the quality of services delivered to them through the instrumentality of District Development Councils. The main levers for effecting this purpose were the Councils themselves and the District Ministers. Elected DDC members, joined by members of Parliament from the district, formed the composition of the Councils. The District Minister, as the principal repository of executive power in the district, had the role of coordinating the functions of all central government institutions operating in the district.
Even from the limited perspective of streamlining the administrative machinery at district level, this proved, across the board, an exercise in futility, even though there were some positive features. Obvious blemishes marred critical aspects of the enacted law, for example, vesting in the President, rather than in the membership of the Council, responsibility for appointment of the District Minister. In any event, the Councils were seriously hamstrung by both pecuniary and institutional constraints. There was no political will to allocate financial resources, and the prevailing culture of patronage inhibited Ministers and officials at the Centre from genuine transfer of authority to the district tier. The impact of the legislation, by and large, was negligible.
The true issues, however, lay elsewhere. The context of the legislation was one in which Tamil formations, such as the Tamil United Liberation Front, were struggling to maintain their moderate postures in an increasingly polarized environment, with pressure from radical elements proving almost irresistible. Two members of the Commission, Prof. A. J. Wilson and Dr. Neelan Tiruchelvam, in their dissenting report, tried to find space, at least interstitially, in a situation where the province could not be identified realistically as the unit of devolved power, to use the district development structure in the North and the East as an intermediate mechanism to allay minority apprehensions and to hold extremism at bay. It was an uphill task, further compounded by two Muslim members of the Commission, in a different dissenting report, expressing the polar opposite view, hostile to ampler devolution on the ground of perceived harm to Muslim interests. Fissures and divisions within the polity were manifested by the resolve of the major Opposition party, the Sri Lanka Freedom Party, to distance itself entirely from the work of the Presidential Commission.
This unpromising backdrop produced a result which was seen largely as a non-event. This paled into insignificance in comparison with a sequence of tragic events which pushed themselves to the centre of the stage. These included the burning of the Jaffna Library during the run-up to the District Development Council elections in the North, and the events of Black July, 1983, which gravely scarred inter-communal relations for a long time. Policymakers at a critical juncture had once again let a limited opportunity slip through their fingers.
ZENITH OF INDIAN INTERVENTION
The next few years typified the high point of Indian intervention. The story of the Thimpu Principles, the IndoSri Lanka Accord, and other connected developments is chronicled in the substantive chapters of this work.
MANGALA MOONESINGHE SELECT COMMITTEE OF PARLIAMENT
In the sunset years of the United National Party administration, yet another attempt was made “to arrive at a political solution to the question involving the devolution of power to the Northern and Eastern Provinces” and to rein in terrorist connected violence. This was the Parliamentary Select Committee on the Ethnic Conflict, appointed in August, 1991. There were several novel features in this endeavour.
First, in contrast with initiatives typically resorted to by the executive arm of government, this was an attempt by the legislature. Consisting of 45 Members of Parliament, drawn from across the political spectrum, this was one of the largest Select Committees appointed by the Parliament of our country. Its chair was Mr. Mangala Moonesinghe, a Member of the Opposition. It deliberated for two years and had 49 meetings. Its outcome was the submission of several reports— the Majority Report, to which the United National Party, the Sri Lanka Freedom Party, the Sri Lanka Muslim Congress, the Communist Party of Sri Lanka and the Lanka Samasamaja Party subscribed, a dissenting report of seven Tamil political parties, and a further dissent by Mr. Dinesh Gunawardena of the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna.
Second, there was a substantial convergence of approach between the two major parties, the Sri Lanka Freedom Party and the United National Party, on the contours of devolution acceptable at the time. Departing from antagonistic attitudes typical of the recent past, there was a measure of agreement about the desirability of a federal constitution and the need for more generous devolution of power.
Third, the Majority Report of the Committee made a detailed proposal which was intended to serve as the foundation of a compromise between two schools of thought— one, stoutly resisting any idea of merger of the Northern and Eastern Provinces, and the other demanding such merger as the indispensable basis of a viable solution. An imaginative via media, although somewhat hazy at the edges, was the concept of the Apex Council which formed the centerpiece of the Majority Report. Formulated in a Concept Paper and further refined in an Option Paper, it adopted as a point of departure two separate Provincial Councils for the North and the East. This dichotomy would characterize the provincial executive as well: each Provincial Council would have an Executive Minister as the head of the Board of Ministers. However, over and above these, the two Provincial Councils together would constitute a Regional Council for the entire North East region.
When the two Provincial Councils met together to discuss matters relating to the region as a whole, they would constitute themselves as the Regional Council. The Regional Council would be headed by a Chief Minister for the entire region, the two Executive Ministers functioning in rotation. The two Provincial Boards of Ministers meeting on matters pertaining to the region would be designated the Regional Board of Ministers. There would be a Regional List and a Provincial List, and legislative functions were to be exercised by the Regional Council for the region with respect to those functions set out in the Regional List. The Provincial List would contain matters such as land, finance, and law and order, and the Regional List would apply to such matters as planning and economic development.
There would be a single Governor for the region, and the rights of minorities would be guaranteed by the Constitution. Legislation passed by the Regional Council would not be operative in the Province until it was approved by the relevant Provincial Council.
Although presenting several features of interest as a pragmatic mediating mechanism, the proposal did not enjoy a sufficiently broad support base to be capable of implementation. In any case, there was no indication of commitment by the Presidency and the Government. Indeed, during the pendency of the Mangala Moonesinghe Committee, the Government of President Ranasinghe Premadasa passed incompatible legislation. The effect of the Transfer of Powers (Divisional Secretaries) Act of 1992 was to vest in divisional secretaries powers which had previously been exercised by the Government Agents. This was, arguably, an insidious attempt to claw back to the Centre powers exercised as a matter of practice at the periphery, thus undermining the direction and thrust of the Mangala Moonesinghe Committee proposals.
KUMARATUNGA’S ACCESSION TO POWER AND THE JAFFNA TALKS
The election of Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, first as Prime Minister and then as President in 1994, marked a significant event in the politics of the Island.
Kumaratunga’s identification as the dove of peace, evoking emotive responses especially in the North of the country, was a powerful element of the imagery at a time when a war weary mood had gripped the nation. This was effectively captured in Kumaratunga’s message to the country soon after her victory at the Parliamentary election: “The verdict of our people in the recent elections leaves me in no doubt of the depth and intensity of their desire and commitment to peace. This must be, however, peace with honour, for both parties to the conflict, for it to be strong and durable.”
Unfortunately, this pervasive feeling of euphoria did not last long. In retrospect, the reasons for this are worth reflection.
There is no doubt that one of the priorities of the new government was peace negotiations with the LTTE. There were four rounds of talks in Jaffna over a period of six months. The first letter from Kumaratunga to Prabhakaran was written on September 2, 1994, and the initial round of talks took place on October 13 and 14. The final letter from Prabhakaran, signifying the irretrievable breakdown of the negotiating process, was dated April 18, 1995.
Failure of this phase of the talks is attributable to a number of causes:
I The structure of the process discouraged systematic progress. Although there were face-to-face meetings between the two delegations at regular intervals, the critical component of the process consisted of an exchange of letters over the entire period. Some of these letters were exchanged between Kumaratunga and Prabhakaran, but, for the most part, the signatories were Kusumsiri Balapatabendi, at the time Secretary to the Prime Minister, or Anuruddha Ratwatte, Deputy Minister of Defence, on the Government side, and S. P. Tamilselvan, Head of the Political Wing, on behalf of the LTTE. This epistolary medium of communication was profoundly unsatisfactory: it provided no scope for a meeting of minds to discuss complex issues in depth and with sincerity.
II The level of the government delegation gave rise to deep disappointment on the part of the LTTE. Kumaratunga nominated four representatives—Mr. K. Balapatabendi, Secretary to the Prime Minister; Mr. Lionel Fernando, Secretary to the Ministry of Information, Tourism and Aviation; Mr. R. Asirwatham, Chairman of the Bank of Ceylon; and Mr. N. L. Gooneratne, Chairman of Design Consortium Limited. Three other members were inducted into the delegation as the talks continued. These were the Right Reverend Bishop Kenneth Fernando, Dr. Jayadeva Uyangoda, and Mr. C. Abeysekara. The LTTE complained bitterly that “the nominees were personal emissaries or confidants of the President, who lacked professional experience in peace negotiations, nor did they possess any political authority to make decisions”. In correspondence with the status of the government delegation, the LTTE nominated as their representatives Mr. K. Karikalan, Deputy Head of the Political Section; Mr. S. Elamparuthy, Political Organizer of the Jaffna District; Mr. A. Ravi, Head of the Department of Economic Research and Development; and Mr. S. Dominic, Head of the Department of Public Administration. It seemed to the LTTE that the composition of the government delegation was indicative of a lack of seriousness of purpose.
III The LTTE, as part of the measures to engender an enabling environment, pressed for a ceasefire. The government steadfastly resisted this demand on the basis that it would be appropriate not at the very outset, as a precondition for commencement of talks, but when reasonably substantial progress had been made. The maximum concession which the government was minded to make was a “cessation of hostilities” which they qualitatively distinguished from a ceasefire. Modalities of the truce, embodied in the document which came into effect on January 8, 1995, were brief and sketchy. They supplied an insufficient framework for dealing with the volatile situations which inevitably developed. Among these were the mobility of armed LTTE guerrillas and the movement of Sea Tigers. There were recurring complaints that the government showed no interest in taking steps to convert the cessation of hostilities into a ceasefire.
IV There was, throughout the process, an all-too-evident trust deficit. The government entertained serious doubts about the LTTE’s commitment to the search for a durable political solution. Reciprocally, the LTTE believed that government initiatives were motivated by the quest for partisan political gain. They gave vent to this sentiment in the observation that “the government was very subtle and sophisticated in the art of propaganda. Already an effective campaign had been launched internationally.”23 The LTTE felt that, uppermost in the government’s mind, was the development of a pre-emptive strategy to impute blame to the LTTE, in the eyes of the international community, should the talks fail. The depth of mutual suspicion and distrust could well have been mitigated by availability of foreign facilitation, for which there was no provision at that stage.
V Serious incidents, potentially destructive of the process, occurred from the very outset. On 12 November, 1994, to coincide with Kumaratunga’s assumption of office as President, the LTTE declared a unilateral cessation of hostilities for seven days. In an army ambush in the Nedunkerni area, a senior LTTE cadre was killed and decapitated. Acrimonious correspondence followed, with regard to return of the severed head. In an incident on the waters around Mannar, the Sea Tigers attacked and destroyed a Sri Lankan frigate, causing the deaths of 24 Navy personnel.
In this background, the cessation of hostilities agreement, once signed, to be effective, necessarily required a mutually acceptable monitoring mechanism. This was entirely lacking. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), invited by the government to take on this role, declined on the ground of want of military expertise needed for successful implementation of the mandate.
The government then set up peace committees in six areas of the North East and invited four foreign delegates from three Western countries—Auden Holm and John Gabrielson from Norway, Lt. Col. Paul Henry Horsting from Holland, and Maj. Gen. C. Milner from Canada— to function as chair of these committees. Less than an optimal arrangement, this suffered a setback at the start, with bitter recriminations by the LTTE over the government’s failure to arrange a meeting between them and the foreign monitors prior to the latter being dispatched to Trincomalee and Batticaloa to commence their work. The process was grievously impaired by the absence of even the semblance of an effective authority to perform an indispensable function.
VI From beginning to end, a debilitating factor was excessive informality hardly commensurate with the nature of the issues involved. The government sought the LTTE’s concurrence to use, as an intermediary, a retired French diplomat, who had served as ambassador in Haiti and was willing to offer his services on the firm understanding that the government of France was in no way privy to his assignment. The LTTE saw no merit in this proposal because of its entirely unofficial character, and also because of the special relationship of the suggested intermediary with one party. As the talks floundered on the verge of collapse, and one final attempt to salvage them was decided upon, the person selected to spearhead the effort was a senior member of the Christian clergy, scarcely equipped with credentials for so daunting a task.
VII The structure of the talks called for a sharp focus on “existential” issues in the North and East as a preliminary to discussion of political issues. This part of the negotiation, however, was mired in rancour and suspicion throughout its course. Lifting of the economic embargo gave rise to incessant disputes which were never resolved. The border post at Thandikulam exemplified
this situation. Restrictions on fishing, opening of the Sengupidy road and its bearing on Pooneryn camp, and the movement of armed LTTE cadres in the East, were among the other issues which proved incapable of resolution. In the absence of any coherent strategy, the talks did not move forward.
The important question is whether these shortcomings were seriously considered, and a productive effort made to overcome them, in the Norwegian-facilitated negotiation which occupied the next phase. This is considered in the chapters which follow.
(Excerpted from The Sri Lanka Peace Process: An Inside View by GL Peiris)
Features
Humanitarian leadership in a time of war
There has been a rare consensus of opinion in the country that the government’s humanitarian response to the sinking of Iran’s naval ship IRIS Dena was the correct one. The support has spanned the party political spectrum and different sections of society. Social media commentary, statements by political parties and discussion in mainstream media have all largely taken the position that Sri Lanka acted in accordance with humanitarian principles and international law. In a period when public debate in Sri Lanka is often sharply divided, the sense of agreement on this issue is noteworthy and reflects positively on the ethos and culture of a society that cares for those in distress. A similar phenomenon was to be witnessed in the rallying of people of all ethnicities and backgrounds to help those affected by the Ditwah Cyclone in December last year.
The events that led to this situation unfolded with dramatic speed. In the early hours before sunrise the Dina made a distress call. The ship was one of three Iranian naval vessels that had taken part in a naval gathering organised by India in which more than 70 countries had participated, including Sri Lanka. Naval gatherings of this nature are intended to foster professional exchange, confidence building and goodwill between navies. They are also governed by strict protocols regarding armaments and conduct.
When the exhibition ended open war between the United States and Iran had not yet broken out. The three Iranian ships that participated in the exhibition left the Indian port and headed into international waters on their journey back home. Under the protocol governing such gatherings ships may not be equipped with offensive armaments. This left them particularly vulnerable once the regional situation changed dramatically, though the US Indo-Pacific Command insists the ship was armed. The sudden outbreak of war between the United States and Iran would have alerted the Iranian ships that they were sailing into danger. According to reports, they sought safe harbour and requested docking in Sri Lanka’s ports but before the Sri Lankan government could respond the Dena was fatally hit by a torpedo.
International Law
The sinking of the Dena occurred just outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters. Whatever decision the Sri Lankan government made at this time was bound to be fraught with consequence. The war that is currently being fought in the Middle East is a no-holds-barred one in which more than 15 countries have come under attack. Now the sinking of the Dena so close to Sri Lanka’s maritime boundary has meant that the war has come to the very shores of the country. In times of war emotions run high on all sides and perceptions of friend and enemy can easily become distorted. Parties involved in the conflict tend to gravitate to the position that “those who are not with us are against us.” Such a mindset leaves little room for neutrality or humanitarian discretion.
In such situations countries that are not directly involved in the conflict may wish to remain outside it by avoiding engagement. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath informed the international media that Sri Lanka’s response to the present crisis was rooted in humanitarian principles, international law and the United Nations. The Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which was adopted 1982 provides the legal framework governing maritime conduct and obliges states to render assistance to persons in distress at sea. In terms of UNCLOS, countries are required to render help to anyone facing danger in maritime waters regardless of nationality or the circumstances that led to the emergency. Sri Lanka’s response to the distress call therefore reflects both humanitarianism and adherence to international law.
Within a short period of receiving the distress message from the stricken Iranian warship the Sri Lankan government sent its navy to the rescue. They rescued more than thirty Iranian sailors who had survived the attack and were struggling in the water. The rescue operation also brought to Sri Lanka the bodies of those who had perished when their ship sank. The scale of the humanitarian challenge is significant. Sri Lanka now has custody of more than eighty bodies of sailors who lost their lives in the sinking of the Dena. In addition, a second Iranian naval ship IRINS Bushehr with more than two hundred sailors has come under Sri Lanka’s protection. The government therefore finds itself responsible for survivors but also for the dignified treatment of the bodies of the dead Iranian sailors.
Sri Lanka’s decision to render aid based on humanitarian principles, not political allegiance, reinforces the importance of a rules-based international order for all countries. Reliance on international law is particularly important for small countries like Sri Lanka that lack the power to defend themselves against larger actors. For such countries a rules-based international order provides at least a measure of protection by ensuring that all states operate within a framework of agreed norms. Sri Lanka itself has played a notable role in promoting such norms. In 1971 the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution declaring the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace. The initiative for this proposal came from Sri Lanka, which argued that the Indian Ocean should be protected from great power rivalry and militarisation.
Moral Beacon
Unfortunately, the current global climate suggests that the rules-based order is barely operative. Conflicts in different parts of the world have increasingly shown disregard for the norms and institutions that were created in the aftermath of the Second World War to regulate international behaviour. In such circumstances it becomes even more important for smaller countries to demonstrate their commitment to international law and to convert the bigger countries to adopt more humane and universal thinking. The humanitarian response to the Iranian sailors therefore needs to be seen in this wider context. By acting swiftly to rescue those in distress and by affirming that its actions are guided by international law, Sri Lanka has enhanced its reputation as a small country that values peace, humane values, cooperation and the rule of law. It would be a relief to the Sri Lankan government that earlier communications that the US government was urging Sri Lanka not to repatriate the Iranian sailors has been modified to the US publicly acknowledging the applicability of international law to what Sri Lanka does.
The country’s own experience of internal conflict has shaped public consciousness in important ways. Sri Lanka endured a violent internal war that lasted nearly three decades. During that period questions relating to the treatment of combatants, the protection of civilians, missing persons and accountability became central issues. As a result, Sri Lankans today are familiar with the provisions of international law that deal with war crimes, the treatment of wounded or disabled combatants and the fate of those who go missing in conflict. The country continues to host an international presence in the form of UN agencies and the ICRC that work with the government on humanitarian and post conflict issues. The government needs to apply the same principled commitment of humanitarianism and the rule of law to the unresolved issues from Sri Lanka’s own civil war, including accountability and reconciliation.
By affirming humanitarian principles and acting accordingly towards the Iranian sailors and their ship Sri Lanka has become a moral beacon for peace and goodwill in a world that often appears to be moving in the opposite direction. At a time when geopolitical rivalries are intensifying and humanitarian norms are frequently ignored, such actions carry symbolic significance. The credibility of Sri Lanka’s moral stance abroad will be further enhanced by its ability to uphold similar principles at home. Sri Lanka continues to grapple with unresolved issues arising from its own internal conflict including questions of accountability, justice, reparations and reconciliation. It has a duty not only to its own citizens, but also to suffering humanity everywhere. Addressing its own internal issues sincerely will strengthen Sri Lanka’s moral standing in the international community and help it to be a force for a new and better world.
BY Jehan Perera
Features
Language: The symbolic expression of thought
It was Henry Sweet, the English phonetician and language scholar, who said, “Language may be defined as the expression of thought by means of speech sounds“. In today’s context, where language extends beyond spoken sounds to written text, and even into signs, it is best to generalise more and express that language is the “symbolic expression of thought“. The opposite is also true: without the ability to think, there will not be a proper development of the ability to express in a language, as seen in individuals with intellectual disability.
Viewing language as the symbolic expression of thought is a philosophical way to look at early childhood education. It suggests that language is not just about learning words; it is about a child learning that one thing, be it a sound, a scribble, or a gesture, can represent something else, such as an object, a feeling, or an idea. It facilitates the ever-so-important understanding of the given occurrence rather than committing it purely to memory. In the world of a 0–5-year-old, this “symbolic leap” of understanding is the single most important cognitive milestone.
Of course, learning a language or even more than one language is absolutely crucial for education. Here is how that viewpoint fits into early life education:
1. From Concrete to Abstract
Infants live in a “concrete” world: if they cannot see it or touch it, it does not exist. Early education helps them to move toward symbolic thought. When a toddler realises that the sound “ball” stands for that round, bouncy thing in the corner, they have decoded a symbol. Teachers and parents need to facilitate this by connecting physical objects to labels constantly. This is why “Show and Tell” is a staple of early education, as it gently compels the child to use symbols, words or actions to describe a tangible object to others, who might not even see it clearly.
2. The Multi-Modal Nature of Symbols
Because language is “symbolic,” it does not matter how exactly it is expressed. The human brain treats spoken words, written text, and sign language with similar neural machinery.
Many educators advocate the use of “Baby Signs” (simple gestures) before a child can speak. This is powerful because it proves the child has the thought (e.g., “I am hungry”) and can use a symbol like putting the hand to the mouth, before their vocal cords are physically ready to produce the word denoting hunger.
Writing is the most abstract symbol of all: it is a squiggle written on a page, representing a sound, which represents an idea or a thought. Early childhood education prepares children for this by encouraging “emergent writing” (scribbling), even where a child proudly points to a messy circle that the child has drawn and says, “This says ‘I love Mommy’.”
3. Symbolic Play (The Dress Rehearsal)
As recognised in many quarters, play is where this theory comes to life. Between ages 2 and 3, children enter the Symbolic Play stage. Often, there is object substitution, as when a child picks up a banana and holds it to his or her ear like a telephone. In effect, this is a massive intellectual achievement. The child is mentally “decoupling” the object from its physical reality and assigning it a symbolic meaning. In early education, we need to encourage this because if a child can use a block as a “car,” they are developing the mental flexibility required to later understand that the letter “C” stands for the sound of “K” as well.
4. Language as a Tool for “Internal Thought”
Perhaps the most fascinating fit is the work of psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who argued that language eventually turns inward to become private speech. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old talking to himself or herself while building a toy tower? “No, the big one goes here….. the red one goes here…. steady… there.” That is a form of self-regulation. Educators encourage this “thinking out loudly.” It is the way children use the symbol system of language to organise their own thoughts and solve problems. Eventually, this speech becomes silent as “inner thought.”
Finally, there is the charming thought of the feasibility of conversing with very young children in two or even three or more languages. In Sri Lanka, the three main languages are Sinhala, Tamil and English. There are questions asked as to whether it is OK to talk to little ones in all three languages or even in two, so that they would learn?
According to scientific authorities, the short, clear and unequivocal answer to that query is that not only is it “OK”, it is also a significant cognitive gift to a child.
In a trilingual environment like Sri Lanka, many parents worry that multiple languages will “confuse” a child or cause a “speech delay.” However, modern neuroscience has debunked these myths. The infant brain is perfectly capable of building three or even more separate “lexicons” (vocabularies) simultaneously.
Here is how the “symbolic expression of thought” works in a multilingual brain and how we can manage it effectively.
a). The “Multiple Labels” Phenomenon
In a monolingual home, a child learns one symbol for an object. For example, take the word “Apple.” In a Sri Lankan trilingual home, the child learns three symbols for that same thought:
* Apple (English)
* Apal
(Sinhala – ඇපල්)
* Appil
(Tamil – ஆப்பிள்)
Because the trilingual child learns that one “thought” can be expressed by multiple “symbols,” the child’s brain becomes more flexible. This is why bilingual and trilingual children often score higher on tasks involving “executive function”, meaning the ability to switch focus and solve complex problems.
b). Is there a “Delay”?
(The Common Myth)
One might notice that a child in a trilingual home may start to speak slightly later than a monolingual peer, or they might have a smaller vocabulary in each language at age two.
However, if one adds up the total number of words they know across all three languages, they are usually ahead of monolingual children. By age five, they typically catch up in all languages and possess a much more “plastic” and adaptable brain.
c). Strategies for Success: How to Do It?
To help the child’s brain organise these three symbol systems, it helps to have some “consistency.” Here are the two most effective methods:
* One Person, One Language (OPOL), the so-called “gold standard” for multilingual families.
Amma
speaks only Sinhala, while the Father speaks only English, and the Grandparents or Nanny speak only Tamil. The child learns to associate a specific language with a specific person. Their brain creates a “map”: “When I talk to Amma, I use these sounds; when I talk to Thaththa, I use those,” etc.
*
Situational/Contextual Learning. If the parents speak all three, one could divide languages by “environment”: English at the dinner table, Sinhala during play and bath time and Tamil when visiting relatives or at the market.
These, of course, need NOT be very rigid rules, but general guidance, applied judiciously and ever-so-kindly.
d). “Code-Mixing” is Normal
We need not be alarmed if a 3-year-old says something like: “Ammi, I want that palam (fruit).” This is called Code-Mixing. It is NOT a sign of confusion; it is a sign of efficiency. The child’s brain is searching for the quickest way to express a thought and grabs the most “available” word from their three language cupboards. As they get older, perhaps around age 4 or 5, they will naturally learn to separate them perfectly.
e). The “Sri Lankan Advantage”
Growing up trilingual in Sri Lanka provides a massive social and cognitive advantage.
For a start, there will be Cultural Empathy. Language actually carries culture. A child who speaks Sinhala, Tamil, and English can navigate all social spheres of the country quite effortlessly.
In addition, there are the benefits of a Phonetic Range. Sinhala and Tamil have many sounds that do not exist in English (and even vice versa). Learning these as a child wires the ears to hear and reproduce almost any human sound, making it much easier to learn more languages (like French or Japanese) later in life.
As an abiding thought, it is the considered opinion of the author that a trilingual Sri Lanka will go a long way towards the goals and display of racial harmony, respect for different ethnic groups, and unrivalled national coordination in our beautiful Motherland. Then it would become a utopian heaven, where all people, as just Sri Lankans, can live in admirable concordant synchrony, rather than as splintered clusters divided by ethnicity, language and culture.
A Helpful Summary Checklist for Parents
* Do Not Drop a Language:
If you stop speaking Tamil because you are worried about English, the child loses that “neural real estate.” Keep all three languages going.
* High-Quality Input:
Do not just use “commands” (Eat! Sleep!). Use the Parentese and Serve and Return methods (mentioned in an earlier article) in all the languages.
* Employ Patience:
If the little one mixes up some words, just model the right words and gently correct the sentence and present it to the child like a suggestion, without scolding or finding fault with him or her. The child will then learn effortlessly and without resentment or shame.
by Dr b. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony.
FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka
Features
SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity
It is, indeed, encouraging to see our local artistes working on new formats, where their music is concerned.
Variety is the spice of life, they say, and I do agree, especially when it comes to music.
Blending modern synth textures, ambient layers and soulful undertones, the group SIMPSON’S is set to carve a distinct sonic identity within Sri Lanka’s contemporary music landscape.
Their vision, they say, is not simply to produce songs, but to create emotional atmospheres – experiences that elevate, energise and resonate, both locally and beyond.
This four-piece outfit came into the scene, less than two years ago, and they are already making waves with their debut single ‘Balaporottuwak’ (Hope).
The song, I’m told, marks the beginning of a new sound, and at the forefront of ‘Balaporottuwak’ is the group’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Ryo Hera, who brings a rich cultural heritage to the stage.
As a professional Kandyan Wes dancer, Ryo’s commanding presence and textured vocals bring a distinct energy to the band’s sound.
‘Balaporottuwak’

Ryo Hera: Vocals for ‘Balaporottuwak’
is more than just a debut single – it’s a declaration of intent. The band is merging tradition and modernity, power and subtlety, to create a sound that’s both authentic and innovative.
With this song, SIMPSON’S is inviting listeners to join them on an evolving musical journey, one that’s built on vision and creativity.
The recording process for ‘Balaporottuwak’ was organic and instinctive, with the band shaping the song through live studio sessions.
Dileepa Liyanage, the keyboardist and composer, is the principal sound mind behind SIMPSON’S.
With experience spanning background scores, commercial projects, cinematic themes and jingles across multiple genres, Dileepa brings structural finesse and atmospheric depth to the band’s arrangements.
He described the recording process of ‘Balaporottuwak’ as organic and instinctive: “When Ryo Hera opens his voice, it becomes effortless to shape it into any musical colour. The tone naturally adapts.”
The band’s lineup includes Buddhima Chalanu on bass, and Savidya Yasaru on drums, and, together, they create a sound that’s not just a reflection of their individual talents, but a collective vision.

Dileepa Liyanage: Brings
structural finesse and
atmospheric depth to the
band’s arrangements
What sets SIMPSON’S apart is their decision to keep the production in-house – mixing and mastering the song themselves. This allows them to maintain their unique sound and artistic autonomy.
“We work as a family and each member is given the freedom to work out his music on the instruments he handles and then, in the studio, we put everything together,” said Dileepa, adding that their goal is to release an album, made up of Sinhala and English songs.
Steering this creative core is manager Mangala Samarajeewa, whose early career included managing various international artistes. His guidance has positioned SIMPSON’S not merely as a performing unit, but as a carefully envisioned project – one aimed at expanding Sri Lanka’s contemporary music vocabulary.
SIMPSON’S are quite active in the scene here, performing, on a regular basis, at popular venues in Colombo, and down south, as well.
They are also seen, and heard, on Spotify, TikTok, Apple Music, iTunes, and Deezer.
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