Features

Situlpauwa, Veddas, building a bungalow at Thenaddi Bay on idyllic East coast

Published

4 years ago

2023/03/12

Thilina Walpola

Excerpted from te authorized biography of Thilo Hoffmann by Douglas B. Ranasinghe

(Continued from last week)

Thilo continues: “The Ven. Bhikkhu Sumedha, a long-time friend who had grown up in Switzerland, spent his early hermit years as a Buddhist monk at Situlpauwa and at the top of Vedahitikanda. He later obtained higher ordination, and died in Kandy in 2006. On his occasional visits to Colombo, dana was regularly offered at our house. Situlpauwa was then a jungle-covered site with only an occasional hermit monk in residence, and wildlife roaming freely through it. Today, as a result of restoration and development, the jungle has given way to concrete, electric lights, noise and commerce.”

During his time in Sri Lanka Thilo has been dismayed to witness such change, in diverse ways, at countless holy and historical places. He adds one example: “We may perhaps record two different alterations at the famous Koneswaram Temple, on Swami Rock at Trincomalee. The entire temple has been ‘restored’ and renovated, covering under cement and plaster and layers of glossy new paint all traces of its ancient history.

“It is also the site of an act of vandalism. There on a stone pillar was an inscription in high relief recording the death of a young Dutch woman who in the 18th century threw herself over the precipice after watching her lover’s ship sail away. This was chiselled away in the 1980s, a testimony to the prevalent politico-religious chauvinism.”

Veddas

In 1950 Thilo and Mae visited the Pollebedda Veddas in the company of Dr R. L. Spittel. After Thilo finished work at the office on Friday, they drove through the night to Maha Oya, via Haputale, Badulla and Bibile. In the early morning Spittel took them to Pollebedda, deep in the dry zone jungle, where a small and reasonably typical Vedda community was living.

Dr Spittel pointed out two younger men whom he described as “good throwbacks” and who, though of mixed blood, showed external characteristics of the Vedda race. He explained that the pure Veddas had ceased to exist some 20 years earlier as by then they had all been absorbed in the Sinhalese and Tamil populations. Thilo adds that other authorities with first-hand knowledge of the Veddas agree with this view. A dance was performed, and the visitors observed the families in their daily activties. Most had huts to live in, and were cultivating. There was one tent-like hut covered with pieces of tree bark. Rats were an item in the diet.

Twenty-six years later, in July 1976, the Hoffmanns again visited Pollebedda, which is about 15 km south of Maha Oya along the Rambukkan Oya. They camped out in a vain bid to see a rare bird, the broad-billed roller, which had been reported there. The place had changed beyond recognition, the thick forest had been cleared, and chenas had turned it into a ‘scrub desert’. A school building and teachers’ quarters had been put up. There was no trace of the Vedda settlement. Thilo explains:

“Today’s `show-Veddas’ of Dambana (so styled by the Seligmanns even a century ago), led by the offspring of a southern Sinhalese, masquerade as true Veddas for a gullible public. There is the strong impression that an outside ‘guru’ is instructing them in some of the old Vedda facts and customs obtained from the literature, e.g. the present name of the ‘chief, or the offering of bees’ honey to the sacred Tooth Relic. If you discount the costume and appendages (axe, bow and arrow) none of the Dambana villagers even look like Veddas.

Well before the Maduru Oya National Park had been declared, large areas in it north of Dambana and Maha Oya had been cleared of jungle and settled. Village infrastructure had been established, schools and ancillary buildings constructed. ‘Vedda life’ had been greatly restricted and consisted chiefly of poaching (not with bow and arrow) as in all villages in jungle areas.

When the Park was declared all the people living within its boundaries and in the bed of the new reservoir were given alternative land and habitations in newly developed areas. The people of Dambana, although the village itself is not in the Park, were offered irrigable land and houses below the nearby Ratkinda reservoir.

All accepted and moved except the fake Vedda chief Tisahamy, a Sinhalese who had shrewdly adopted the name of Dr Spittel’s hero, and his family. He successfully defied law and authority, lived in a large house in the midst of a banana plantation just inside the National Park boundary, and, with his young offspring play-acted the Vedda for assorted local and foreign tourists. Supported by sponsors and gurus, he even obtained an order from the District Court which forced the Wildlife Department to demolish the gate they had put up at the boundary of the Park.

Time went by and the new Tisahamy died. Recent history was quickly forgotten, and with the help of journalists, gullible politicians, foreign and local anthropologists the Vedda race was miraculously resuscitated. The settlers from Ratkinda now returned to Dambana, as the life of a show-Vedda had become full of promise.

Soon the motley crowd became even the internationally acknowledged representatives of the ‘indigenous people’ of Sri Lanka, and their leaders put in an expenses-paid appearance at the Permanent Forum of Indigenous People of the UN in Geneva, Switzerland. Local intellectuals and politicians recognized this set-up early as a god-sent opportunity to gain status and publicity. The highest authorities were persuaded to accord the “Veddas” privileges not given to any others, such as free movement and hunting, with guns, within the National Park.

This is the story of a scrappy bunch of villagers who by ruse and the cunning ‘PR-ship’ of their leader and his advisors became the `indigenous people’ of Sri Lanka, and as such are being cuddled by the State, the tourists and some of the island’s elite. Others have joined the bandwagon and, true to form, new demands are being presented.

If these, or other, villagers want to re-enact Vedda customs and habits in order to generate attention and income for themselves then that is their business. But they cannot expect nor be given special rights and privileges under the laws of the country.

The East

Few today are aware that the southern part of the Eastern Province, including Batticaloa, was virtually cut off from the rest of the country until the mid 20th century. At the time of Thilo’s first visits the motorable road ended at Polonnaruwa. Then, the railway bridges at Manampitiya and Valaichchenai (which had been opened in 1928) were converted to dual rail and road use, and connecting roads built, which allowed for the first time relatively easy access to that part of the East of Sri Lanka.

Before this Batticaloa could be reached from Colombo by road only via Beragala (below Haputale, at 3,500 ft, or 1,100 m a.s.1.) – Wellawaya – Pottuvil, or even more tediously via Badulla – Passara – Bibile – Eravur; and before the Second World War only by boat. To get to Batticaloa from Trincomalee ferries had to be used at seven places and the 80-mile (130 km) trip needed a full day.

Until the Second World War there had been a coastal shipping service for cargo and passengers. The vessels were named after the wives of past British Governors: Lady Manning, etc. and the line was called ‘the Lady line’. The small steamboats berthed at all coastal towns of some importance: Chilaw, Negombo, Colombo, Beruwela, Galle, Hambantota, Arugam Bay, Batticaloa, Kalkudah, Trincomalee and KKS. Until recently the remnants of the old piers could be seen at Hambantota and Kalkudah.

The East thus very much led a life of its own. It was and is distinctly different from the North. Its coconut industry – this too is not well known – was pioneered by British proprietary planters who settled there in the 19th century. The transformation of the Eastern Province began with the Gal Oya Development Project in the 1950s. Even until the end of that decade there was a change in the direction of milestones near Siyambalanduwa, because the road had been constructed starting from both ends.

The Eastern Province has a great touristic potential, but its development should be undertaken with circumspection and responsibility. Earlier attempts, especially at Kalkudah and Passikudah and to some extent at Arugam Bay and in the wider Trincomalee area, do not inspire much hope that natural and traditional assets will be suitably protected and preserved.

Thenaddi Bay

In the 1960s Thilo purchased a piece of land on the beach at Thenaddi Bay, a few miles north of Valaichchenai. For several years he had been searching for a suitable site on the East coast between Panama and Trincomalee. Then one day Mr S.V.O. Somanader of Kalkudah, who knew of his interest, drew his attention to a plot available at Kayankerni. Thilo had a look at the one-inch map, and instantly bought it without having seen it!

It proved to be a ‘dream’ location, alone in the centre of the wide bay with sandy, tree-fringed beaches and with crystal-clear blue water, except during the north-east monsoon when the sea is rough.

The tiny village of Kayankerni is a stronghold of the so-called Coast Veddas, a group of people who Thilo says are “as racially mixed as their forest-dwelling relatives, who deny any connection”. Here also is a small and simple temple in which the mysterious Kapal-Theivam (Kapalpei) ceremony is celebrated. The powerful deity is a foreigner who arrived in a ship. In the temple compound the wooden model of a ship is displayed atop a high pole.

First, the basic unit of the holiday home was constructed: a fortress-like large rectangle of 15-foot high white walls, roofs sloping inward, an open inner courtyard with a well in its centre, and a wide seaward veranda. Thilo received enthusiastic and active assistance from his friend Lalith Senanayake.

In the following years, sporadically, many additions were made: bedrooms, a roof-top veranda with a spiral staircase; a guest-house, separate but connected by a covered passageway, with `meda midula’ and kitchen; a boathouse, a water tower, a garage, and eventually a two-storied rear wing.

Xavier Jobin and Stanley Gnanam, both of Baurs’ Palugaswewa Estate, with their wide experience in building, contributed greatly, also to necessary alterations and repairs; and Mr S. M. Sathiacama, then an engineer at Baurs, was very helpful. The very extensive roofs were covered with country tiles, which were frequently damaged by playful monkeys – who also “harvested” all the coconuts, well before maturity, on the 20-odd palms near the house!

Geoffrey Bawa, who was a friend of the Hoffmanns, called it “the best non-architect house I have seen”. There was no electricity. Kerosene fuelled the lamps at night and the refrigerator.For Thilo, working and sweating in the house and land was a regular and satisfying recreation. There was always something needing repair or maintenance or development. The first and often exasperating task on arrival was to start the fridge and the motor of the water pump. One of the most exhilarating moments of Thilo’s life, he recounts, was when he struck water some 10 or 12 feet down a hot and narrow cement tube. It was the first well on the property, and the main house was then built around it.

In the rear of the property Thilo developed his own little jungle from “the most thorny and impenetrable thicket in the world”. Along the beach he planted wind and salt resistant shrubs and palmyra palms.

For many years the Hoffmanns and their friends spent the most memorable weekends and holidays in this “magical” place, considered by some as the best times of their lives. There were marvellous coral reefs at the northern end of the bay, and others several miles long fringed the bay towards the open sea. These were rich in marine life, and comparable to the Maldives. There was fishing, diving, and snorkeling as well as underwater photography.

They did excursions up and down the coast to Trincomalee, the Baron’s Cap area – Toppigala, later of LTTE fame, locally called Kudumbi Kanda – and other remote inland wildlife areas. In most of these elephants were numerous. There was a fibreglass boat with outboard motor, which was later seized by the LTTE. They often went to Tamankaduwa, where elephants congregate in large numbers at times; up to more than 200 together have been observed by Thilo in that area1. Occasionally elephants even visited his property.

Thilo knew all the unique villus along the Mahaweli Ganga, which are fed and maintained by water from the river. They are part of the great biological diversity in the neglected Flood Plains and Somawathiya National Parks and adjoining protected areas; some of these form beautiful, wide landscapes, known to few. Their restoration now as effective conservation areas is a national duty.

The coast northward of the bungalow to Panichchankerni, Vakarai, Verugal, and especially from Ichchilampatai to Foul Point and Seruwawila, was little affected by any modern influences. Thinly populated – with a temporary migration during the south-west monsoon of fishermen from the west coast – it appeared as it would have centuries ago: lagoons, mangroves, a vast extent of jungle in the hinterland, rocky outcrops in forests and along the shore sticking out of the sea like monuments, coral reefs, the white beaches, venerable old trees, lonely temples and holy places.

From February to October there was almost permanent good weather, turning hot in May with the strong blowing of the warm kachan wind from the land. Blue sky, blue water, wide sandy beaches and the green fringe of ancient forest trees exemplified here the wonder of nearly untouched nature with man a small, well-fitting part of it – man and nature in balance. To add to all this, remarks Thilo, there is a wonderful smell of the flowering goda ratmal (Ixora arborea).

Seasonally the warm and calm water teems with tiny fluorescent organisms. At night the shallow waves running along the smooth shore light up like a moving illumination, and a swimming person is outlined with brightness in the clear water. Again, seasonally, the coastal jungle would be alive with swarms of fireflies sparkling at night, larger than elsewhere in the island.

At times, depending on climate and wind, the coastal water would be invaded by vast numbers of jellyfish. These beautiful, translucent creatures make swimming virtually impossible, not so much because of their sting but the unpleasant sensation of touch. Some, of course, are dangerous such as the Portuguese man-of-war which Thilo has observed on both the west and east coasts.

Also dangerous to bathers are the estuarine stingrays which seasonally bury themselves in the sand along the shallow shore and so become nearly invisible. They can inflict very painful wounds when trod upon.

In the 1970s much fuss was made about the sudden proliferation of the crown-of-thorns starfish, a beautiful blue and black inhabitant of tropical coral reefs. It was feared that the reefs would be destroyed. Panicked countermeasures were taken. The very people who were exploiting the reefs for the live fish trade were employed at great cost to spear and kill the starfish. The effect was the opposite of what was desired. The ‘blue stars’ were everywhere and visibly depleted the corals. In the early 1980s it all just died down, and in 1982 Thilo could not find a single crown-of-thorns in the extensive reefs around Thenaddi Bay.

During the north-east monsoon interesting items were washed ashore, for instance ambergris, a fatty grey substance, derived from sperm whales, and worth its weight in gold. On one occasion the part skeleton of a whale shark was left behind by the tide.

Twice, large fishing boats or rafts from Burma, across the Bay of Bengal, had been washed up on the wide beach near the bungalow. They were made of bamboo well tied together with string. A hut-like upper structure held a fireplace. Thilo found them unbelievably sturdy, intact after being storm-driven thousands of miles across the sea. Eventually both of them disintegrated on the wave-battered beach.

But, increasingly, ugly waste is also being swept ashore. Blobs of tar from boiler waste illegally discharged from passing ships, and literally millions of pieces of plastic in all colours and shapes originating from garbage on land and at sea now litter the sandy beaches.

(To be continued)

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Features

The Great AI Schism: When the Titans of Tech tell us to slow down

Published

2 hours ago

2026/10/7

Sahan Weerasooriya

by Prof. C. A. Saliya

Something extraordinary happened in September 2026. The very people who have spent the last decade pouring tens of billions of dollars into building artificial intelligence, the visionaries, the investors, the CEOs, suddenly started telling the world to hit the brakes. It’s a bit like the captain of a speeding train leaning out of the window and shouting, “Actually, maybe we should slow down a bit!” The public, understandably, is confused. We’ve been told AI will cure cancer, solve climate change, and give us all free time. Now we’re being told it might kill us all. Welcome to the great AI schism.

To understand what’s happening, you have to listen to the people in the room. These are not wild-eyed doomsayers on the internet. They are the titans of the industry. And they are starting to argue with each other.

Dario Amodei: The Insider Who Wants to Hit Pause

Dario Amodei, the CEO of Anthropic (Claude AI), is the man who kicked the hornet’s nest. In a 3,800-word essay, posted on his website in mid-September 2026, he didn’t just suggest caution, he demanded a slowdown. “We must slow the pace at which we improve the capabilities of AI models,” he wrote. His reasoning is simple and terrifying: the technology is moving faster than our ability to control it. He warned that AI could be misused for cyberattacks, bioterrorism, and serious economic disruption.

What makes Amodei’s warning so chilling is that it comes from a man whose company, Anthropic, builds one of the most powerful AI models in the world, Claude. He’s not a critic on the sidelines. He’s in the driver’s seat, and he’s telling us the car might not have brakes. In an interview with CNN’s Anderson Cooper, he said he agreed with a departing Anthropic researcher who claimed AI could “kill us all” by the end of the decade. That researcher, 27-year-old Jacob Coxon, resigned in protest, saying the people building AI “earnestly believe that it could kill us all”. When the people building the technology start resigning because they’re afraid of it, you should pay attention.

Bill Gates: The Elder Statesman with a Warning

Bill Gates has been around long enough to know a paradigm shift when he sees one. The Microsoft co-founder, who spent decades warning the world about pandemics and climate change, has now turned his attention to AI. And he’s not mincing words. In September 2026, Gates warned that AI is “powerful enough to drive events that, you know, cause a billion deaths”.

Gates is not worried about Terminator-style robots. He’s worried about people. “There’s never been a weapon as powerful as the combination of people with ill intent using the latest AI tools,” he said. His solution is simple: regulation. “No one thinks self-regulation is enough,” he told NBC’s Meet the Press. He even offered to be the man to convince President Trump to regulate AI. Gates is a pragmatist. He knows the technology is coming. He just wants to make sure it doesn’t get us first.

Sam Altman: The Showman with a Conscience (Maybe)

Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI (Chat GPT), has always been the industry’s greatest showman. He’s the man who told us AGI (Artificial General Intelligence) is “just around the corner” and that AI will soon be a “genie that can grant any wish”. But even Altman is now singing a different tune. In September 2026, he ruled out an OpenAI IPO in 2026, citing safety concerns. He called even a 10% risk of AI causing human extinction “unacceptable”.

“I agree with Dario that we need to pace the frontier,” Altman posted on X. This is a remarkable shift. Altman has spent years being criticised for moving too fast, for prioritising profit over safety. Now, facing mounting evidence that AI models can cause real harm, from cyberattacks to mental health crises, he’s suddenly the voice of caution. Is it genuine? Or is it a PR move? The cynics will tell you it’s the latter. But the fact remains: when Sam Altman says we need to slow down, the world listens.

Elon Musk: The Provocateur Who Saw It Coming

Elon Musk has been warning about AI for over a decade. He’s the man who called AI “more dangerous than nuclear weapons” long before it was fashionable. So it’s no surprise that he joined the chorus of slowdown calls in September 2026. But Musk being Musk, he couldn’t resist a bit of dark humour. When asked if we’re all going to die within 10 years, he replied, “I don’t want to disappoint you, but we’re all going to die someday anyway”.

But behind the joke is a serious point. Musk believes AI models could escape their constraints, take control of military systems, and even launch nuclear weapons. His solution is mutual oversight: leading AI companies should test each other’s systems for safety before release, and he even suggested a deal with China to make it happen. Musk is a provocateur, but he’s also a visionary. And his vision is one where AI is a weapon that we might not be able to control.

Satya Nadella: The Quiet Strategist

While the others are shouting about doom, Satya Nadella is quietly building an empire. The Microsoft CEO doesn’t talk about extinction risks. He talks about “agentic AI”, AI that can act autonomously, which he calls “a new paradigm”. Microsoft’s Azure cloud platform, which powers these AI agents, grew 43% in the last quarter, surpassing $100 billion in annual revenue.

Nadella’s view is simple: don’t compete to build the most powerful model; compete to control the “orchestration layer”, the systems that connect different AI models. He wants to build the infrastructure that everyone else relies on. It’s a smart play, and it’s making Microsoft a fortune. But Nadella’s silence on safety is deafening. While Amodei and Altman wrestle with their consciences, Nadella is counting the money. It’s not that he doesn’t care; it’s that his business model depends on AI being adopted, not regulated.

Jacob Coxon: The Whistleblower Who Lit the Fuse

You may not have heard of Jacob Coxon. He’s not a billionaire. He’s not a CEO. He’s a 27-year-old researcher who worked at both OpenAI and Anthropic. And in September 2026, he resigned from Anthropic with a warning that shook the industry. “Neither company is acting responsibly,” he wrote on X. “They are launching themselves directly toward a superintelligence capable of self-improvement, and gambling with our lives”.

Coxon’s warning was remarkable because it came from inside the machine. He said the people building AI “earnestly believe that it could kill us all by the end of the decade”. He called for a temporary freeze on advanced AI training. His resignation triggered a wave of concern, and even Dario Amodei admitted he agreed with Coxon more than he disagreed. Coxon is the canary in the coal mine. And the canary is not looking well.

Donald Trump: The Wildcard

And then there’s Donald Trump. The US President has consistently downplayed AI fears, calling them a “hoax” and a “sick conspiracy”. But even Trump is starting to change his tune, sort of. In September 2026, he announced plans to create an “AI Force” and appoint an AI “Czar”. He said the government would look for “bad” uses of AI through the existing criminal and civil justice systems.

But Trump’s priority is clear: winning the AI race against China. “We will not in any way hinder or stifle the growth of this incredible industry,” he said. He wants AI to account for 25% of US GDP. Trump is not a technologist. He’s a businessman and a nationalist. He sees AI as a tool for economic dominance, not an existential threat. Whether he’s right or wrong, his stance puts him at odds with almost every expert in the field.

The Bottom Line: A House Divided

So where does this leave us? We have the CEOs of the world’s leading AI companies, Amodei, Altman, and Musk, all calling for a slowdown. We have Bill Gates, the elder statesman of tech, warning of a billion deaths. We have a whistleblower who says the industry is gambling with our lives. And then we have Satya Nadella, quietly building the infrastructure that powers it all, and Donald Trump, who wants to speed up.

The irony is hard to miss. The people who built the AI train are now telling us to slow down. The people who profit from the AI economy are the ones building the tracks. And the public is caught in the middle, trying to figure out who to believe.

Maybe the most honest thing anyone said came from Jacob Coxon, the 27-year-old researcher who quit. “The people building AI earnestly believe that it could kill us all by the end of the decade,” he wrote. “This is not a marketing stunt”.

If the people building the technology believe it could kill us, perhaps we should listen. Before it’s too late.

(Prof. C. A. Saliya, is a charted accountant, academic, researcher and former banker. He is the author of SAMAJA GAVESHAKAYA and Springer Publication DOING SOCIAL RESEARCH. He can be contacted at saliya.ca@gmail.com. The views expressed in this article are his own and do not necessarily represent those of the organisations with which he is affiliated.)

Features

Preventing grievances from becoming communal

Published

1 day ago

2026/10/6

Sahan Weerasooriya

Police removing the Thileepan statue

by Jehan Perera

The death sentence on Sivarasa Anojan, a Sri Lankan citizen convicted of blasphemy in Saudi Arabia has taken a central place in national consciousness for the past several weeks. It has been in the headline news since it was first reported last month. There have been many initiatives taken locally to get a more lenient sentencing by the Saudi authorities. There is also an undercurrent that is critical of both the culture and religion from which this sentencing emanates. This also sustains the widespread publicity being given nationally to the issue. By way of contrast, the controversy caused by the forcible removal of the Thileepan statue in Jaffna has not significantly impacted upon the national consciousness. There was only passing mention of the incident in the national media which has been overtaken by other events.

However, in the north and east of the country, and in the diaspora, the removal of the Thileepan statue has become a major issue. It has led to protest marches led by university students and widespread condemnation by civil society and political groups. The issues underlying the Thileepan statue have deep undercurrents in the Tamil consciousness particularly in the north and east which time is unlikely to dispel. The real test of harmony in a multi-ethnic, multi-religious society like Sri Lanka is not whether communities coexist peacefully when nothing controversial is at stake. Rather, the test is how they respond when an event touches their identities and grievances. The death sentence imposed on Anojan in Saudi Arabia and the removal of the Thileepan statue in Jaffna carry the risk of becoming grievances to entire communities.

In the case of Anojan, a young Tamil migrant worker, he was first sentenced to five years imprisonment and a fine of three million Saudi riyals over a Facebook comment. Both he and the Saudi prosecution appealed, with the appeal court raising the sentence to death. This has led to public sympathy for him in Sri Lanka.

Appeals for clemency have come from the President, government and opposition leaders, clergy of all faiths and Muslim political leaders. At the same time there is a need to reject attempts to turn the case into a source of anti-Muslim sentiment or collective blame. Peacebuilding therefore has to be within Sri Lanka as well as diplomatic. Religious leaders and civil society in the country should be ready to quell rumour, even as Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and Christian leaders stand together publicly.

Thileepan Statue

The Thileepan controversy has had a different trajectory. Many Tamils admire Thileepan, the LTTE name of Rasaiah Parthipan, who died on 26 September 1987 after a twelve-day fast. His demands were addressed to India but included matters pertaining to the Sri Lankan government including the release of detainees held under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. The statue put up during this year’s commemoration was removed by police in the early hours of 27 September, a day after the commemoration ended. The government’s legal concern, as articulated by its spokesperson, was the LTTE remains a proscribed organisation and before removing the statue, police had presented facts to the court. But law and memory answer different questions and the depth of Tamil anguish cannot be disregarded.

For many Tamils, remembrance of Thileepan is connected to their sense of loss and historical memory. The memorial has been destroyed and rebuilt more than once, and each destruction has added to the meaning it carries. Many who mourn Thileepan are grieving a young man who died without violence and by his own fast. They also grieve an era of loss of the struggle for Tamil rights and self-determination for which Thileepan has become a symbol. The Office for Reparations Act, No. 34 of 2018, provides for collective reparations and gives the Office for Reparations a role in policies on memorialisation. This does not automatically permit any particular statue, nor does it override laws on public places or proscribed organisations. But it shows that memorialisation is recognised within Sri Lanka’s framework for reparations and reconciliation. There is also a wider question of equality.

The JVP that now leads the NPP government was itself once proscribed when it took up arms against the state in which tens of thousands died, later entered democratic politics, and now for many years has publicly commemorated its own fallen. The opportunity to remember those who died should not belong to one community alone.

A commitment to peacebuilding requires that the same trust that has been given to former militants of one community needs to be given to members of other communities if equal citizenship and equal rights are to have meaning. Further, the Office for Reparations Act provides for reparations through livelihood. It is today a fact that those former LTTE members who went through the government’s rehabilitation process find it difficult to get jobs in the private sector.

Private sector employers are reluctant to come under surveillance for employing former LTTE members. There needs to be equal access to employment and removal of unjustified barriers to reintegration, with targeted public programmes where necessary. Until this situation is realized on the ground, the government needs to consider employing those who went through the government’s rehabilitation process and still unable to find suitable employment.

Continuing Peace

The challenge that post-war Sri Lanka faces, a full 17 years after the end of war, is to strengthen the foundations of trust between communities rather than deepen existing suspicions. Anojan is an individual Sri Lankan citizen facing a severe sentence in another country. His case should not become a reason to blame Sri Lankan Muslims. Thileepan is remembered differently by different communities, but the dispute over his memorial should not become a reason to revive the communal divisions of the past. The cases are also mirror images in an important respect. In the Anojan case, the state is an advocate pleading before another government. In the Thileepan case, the state is the actor whose decision is being judged. The first calls for quiet diplomacy and restraint in public language. The second calls for fairness and explanation, and the burden on the state is heavier.

The common roots of the two cases lie in mistrust that does not belong to one community alone. It has been produced by experiences of discrimination, violence, insecurity and loss that have been interpreted differently by different communities. Grievances turn communal when an individual is seen as a representative of a community, when institutions seem to treat communities unequally, and when people feel their pain goes unacknowledged. Each of these can be addressed. The system change that the Sri Lankan people voted for in 2024 would need to include a government that rejects collective blame, acknowledges grief and explains its decisions openly. It also requires state institutions to act transparently and consistently, so that no citizen feels that the law protects some communities more than others.

This peacebuilding imperative requires enlightened leadership as much as legal authority. It requires leaders who will speak to their own communities against prejudice, even when this is politically inconvenient. It requires religious leaders who will demonstrate solidarity across religious boundaries. And it requires civil society to recognise that peacebuilding is not simply preventing violence after tensions have risen, but is addressing the mistrust and grievances that allow tensions to rise in the first place. Sri Lanka has learned, at great cost, that communal divisions can become much larger than the events that initially give rise to them. The Anojan and Thileepan cases give Sri Lanka an opportunity to demonstrate that it has learned from its past. The test of Sri Lanka’s continuing peace is whether we can address difficult grievances without turning them into communal ones.

Features

Sri Lanka Cricket Bill: Governance reform is not yet a cricket strategy – Part II

Published

1 day ago

2026/10/6

Sahan Weerasooriya

By Sarath S. Kodithuwakku

President, Institute of Management of Sri Lanka; Senior Professor, University of Peradeniya

(Continued from yesterday)

Representation, Independence and Decision-Making

The membership-based electoral structure should provide representation without becoming a substitute for executive management. The seven Elected Directors would bring the perspectives of the SLC membership into the Board, while the seven Independent Directors would provide additional professional expertise and independence. The model’s effectiveness will, therefore, depend on whether the Board can integrate these perspectives into coherent strategic decisions while maintaining a clear boundary between governance and day-to-day management.

The equal division between Elected and Independent Directors also raises a governance-design question. An even-numbered Board can create a tie. The Bill addresses this directly: in the event of equality, the Chairperson has a casting vote; in the Chairperson’s absence, the Deputy Chairperson has a casting vote; and if both are absent, an Independent Director, elected to preside, has the casting vote. The issue is, therefore, not whether a tie can be resolved, but how this mechanism affects the balance between representation, independence and accountability.

The leadership structure reinforces this balance: the Chairperson is elected from among the Independent Directors and the Deputy Chairperson from among the Elected Directors. The casting-vote arrangement makes the Chairperson’s role and perceived independence particularly important, especially when a major strategic decision divides the two components of the Board.

The Bill’s committee provisions could support a disciplined model of delegation, but implementation will depend heavily on the terms of reference adopted by the new Board. The framework could be strengthened by requiring a published cricket-development strategy, a clear division of powers among the Board, executives and selection committees, transparent principles for major development allocations, and periodic reporting on outcomes across men’s, women’s, schools and domestic cricket. These measures would strengthen accountability without legislating the details of team selection or tournament scheduling.

From Measurement to Strategic Accountability

If the Board is to hold management accountable for strategy rather than simply for short-term results, it needs a performance framework that captures both outcomes and the capabilities that produce them.

SLC should consider requiring an explicit multi-year cricket-development strategy, supported by measurable objectives and an annual strategy review. Such a strategy should identify the development pathway from schools and grassroots cricket through domestic competitions to high performance; define major capability priorities such as coaching, sports science, data and analytics; set resource-allocation principles; and establish indicators against which progress can be assessed.

The purpose would not be to turn cricket into a bureaucratic exercise. Strategic accountability simply creates a disciplined basis for asking whether the organisation is doing what it said it would do, whether its assumptions remain valid, and whether resources are producing the intended results.

From Measurement to Organisational Learning

SLC should, therefore, consider adopting a formal Balanced Scorecard. Rather than measuring success solely through international match results or annual financial audits, the framework could track four interdependent perspectives:

Financial Sustainability:

commercial growth, financial discipline and compliance.

Internal Processes:

domestic tournament quality, development pathways and selector-process integrity.

Stakeholder Value:

grassroots development, school cricket and women’s cricket expansion.

Strategic Capability:

coaching quality, sports science, talent development, data and analytics capability, and the organisation’s ability to convert investment into sustainable performance.

The purpose of such a framework would not be to reduce cricket development to a collection of numbers. Rather, it would create a disciplined process for asking four fundamental management questions:

What did we expect to achieve?

What actually happened?

Why was there a difference?

What should we change as a result?

Evaluating these dimensions periodically would help SLC move beyond performance reporting towards genuine organisational learning.

ICC as a Stakeholder in Governance Reform

The ICC is another important stakeholder whose interests should be recognised in the reform process. SLC’s governance arrangements do not operate solely within Sri Lankan law; they also have to be compatible with the governance obligations associated with ICC membership. The ICC’s Articles of Association require each Member to provide for free and democratic elections (or nominees from outside its members) and to manage its affairs autonomously, without government or other public-body interference in the governance, regulation or administration of cricket.

International experience demonstrates that ICC engagement in member governance restructuring is not unusual. In the United States, after the ICC expelled the old national association for chronic governance failures, the ICC directly oversaw a multi-year project to design a new governance model. The ICC Board formally approved the constitution for a replacement body (USA Cricket) before it was adopted. The resulting structure combined elected constituent directors with independent directors, showing that an ICC-backed framework can accommodate both forms of representation.

In Nepal, the ICC established a Nepal Advisory Group comprising stakeholders from across the game to recommend constitutional amendments, with adoption of the revised constitution and subsequent elections forming part of the conditions for reinstatement of ICC membership.[8] The ICC subsequently facilitated an independent panel that included ICC nominees together with representatives of Nepal’s National Sports Council and the existing cricket administration to map the election process, guidelines and timelines.[9] More recently, in 2026, an ICC delegation visited Bangladesh to engage with stakeholders on governance and electoral matters.[10] The ICC has also reported that its Deputy Chair and another ICC Board representative visited Sri Lanka and met relevant stakeholders to assess ongoing developments, while the ICC Board reiterated the need for elections to be held as soon as possible.

These precedents make the ICC a legitimate stakeholder in considering the governance implications of the proposed Bill. This does not mean that the ICC should determine Sri Lanka’s domestic legislation, nor that every feature of the Bill requires prior ICC approval. It does, however, suggest that early and formal engagement with the ICC would be prudent, particularly where the proposed arrangements concern Board independence, elections, government involvement and the transition to the new governance structure.

This is particularly relevant because the Bill creates two institutional arrangements that deserve careful scrutiny from an autonomy perspective. The Transformation Committee is responsible for managing the transition until the First Board is constituted, while the Nomination Committee, although structurally independent of the SLC Board, includes representatives connected with the Sports Ministry and the National Sports Council. Neither arrangement, by itself, establishes government interference. However, taken together, they make it important that the independence of the incoming Board is demonstrable through transparent procedures rather than assumed from the structure alone.

Given the professional calibre and international exposure of the members of the Transformation Committee, it would be reasonable to expect that the importance of ICC engagement would have been recognised. Although any such consultation has not been evident in the public domain, it is therefore reasonable to expect that the ICC has either already been consulted or will be consulted before the Bill is enacted. Such engagement would allow potential incompatibilities to be identified before the new structure is enacted and implemented, rather than after the fact.

The Transition Is Itself a Governance Challenge

The transition provisions introduce a significant organisational-change challenge. Replacing the existing club- and association-based governance structure with a new hybrid Board and governance architecture is not simply a legal exercise; it is an organisational change programme. The Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee is required to manage the transition until the First Board is constituted and, during that period, to establish rules covering matters including tournament structure, domestic governance, selection committee appointments, committee terms of reference, the Nomination Committee process and the election of the Elected Directors.

Structural reform on paper can encounter resistance from established interests, institutional habits and existing routines. The implementation phase will therefore require a clear change-management framework, including stakeholder engagement, transparent onboarding for Independent Directors, clarification of decision rights, alignment of legacy committees, and careful transfer of information and responsibilities.

Without attention to these organisational factors, cultural friction could undermine the intended administrative improvements. The success of the reform will therefore depend not only on the text of the legislation but also on the quality of the rules, appointments, delegation arrangements and organisational behaviours that follow it.

From Governance Reform to a Cricket Strategy

The Bill deserves credit for addressing how SLC is constituted and for creating places for specialist advice. It should not be dismissed simply because it does not prescribe a batting order or a domestic fixture list. Those are not appropriate tasks for legislation.

Its limitation is more precise: the proposed governance arrangements do not, by themselves, assure the strategic capability of the Board or the quality, independence and accountability of the decisions made beneath it. They establish the architecture. The future Board and management must supply the strategy, capabilities, discipline and learning mechanisms that make the architecture work.

A stronger reform would connect four elements: a Board selected for collective strategic capability; professional cricket management with clear delegated authority; transparent but non-mechanical selection and investment processes; and systematic evaluation of development outcomes. Within the first of these, information technology and computer science should be recognised as distinct from the broader capability to understand and govern data science, analytics and emerging AI-enabled decision support.

Ultimately, the governing question is not only who gets a seat at the SLC Board table. It is whether that Board can build, fund, execute and learn from a credible strategy for Sri Lankan cricket.

References

1. Department of Government Printing, Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka Cricket Bill, Gazette Supplement, Part II of September 25, 2026, issued on 28 September 2026.

2. International Cricket Council. Media release, 15 July 2026, reporting the ICC Board discussion of Sri Lanka Cricket and the need for elections to be held as soon as possible.

3. Sport New Zealand – Ihi Aotearoa. Nine Steps to Effective Governance, particularly Step 1: Define and Agree the Board’s Role; Step 4: Provide Strategic Leadership; Step 5: Employ and Support a Chief Executive; and Step 8: Get the Right People on Board.

4. Cricket South Africa. Governance and management frameworks, including the delegation-of-authority framework, Board committees, Cricket Committee, Cricket Pipeline Committee and CEO accountability.

5. International Cricket Council. ICC Articles of Association, provisions requiring free and democratic elections and autonomous administration without government or other public-body interference. ICC. https://images.icc-cricket.com/image/upload/prd/f7vm88yw1933dc38cgtg.pdf

6. International Cricket Council. “ICC outlines proposed USACA constitution.” ICC, 2017. https://www.icc-cricket.com/news/icc-outlines-proposed-usaca-constitution

7. International Cricket Council. “Approved constitution marks historic landmark for cricket in USA.” ICC, 2017. https://www.icc-cricket.com/media-releases/approved-constitution-marks-historic-landmark-for-cricket-in-usa

8. International Cricket Council. “ICC welcomes Nepal Special General Meeting to adopt revised constitution.” ICC, 2018. https://www.icc-cricket.com/media-releases/icc-welcomes-nepal-special-general-meeting-to-adopt-revised-constitution

9. International Cricket Council. “Independent Panel meet to progress Nepal elections under revised constitution.” ICC, 2018. https://www.icc-cricket.com/media-releases/independent-panel-meet-to-progress-nepal-elections-under-revised-constitution

10. International Cricket Council. “ICC delegation visits Bangladesh to engage with stakeholders on governance and electoral matters.” ICC, 2026. https://www.icc-cricket.com/media-releases/icc-delegation-visits-bangladesh-to-engage-with-stakeholders-on-governance-and-electoral-matters

11. International Cricket Council. “ICC Board approves governance, membership and member support decisions.” ICC, 2026; see also “ICC Board Meeting,” 2026, reporting ICC representatives’ meetings with stakeholders in Sri Lanka. https://www.icc-cricket.com/media-releases/icc-board-approves-governance-membership-and-member-support-decisions

(Concluded)