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Surprise move of both the Minister and myself from Agriculture to Education

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Ministry of Education at Isurupaya

The letter of appointment (as Secretary to the Ministry of Education and Higher Education and Directer-General of Education) was dated March 30, 1990. This sudden transfer was not quite expected and therefore somewhat puzzling. We were of course hearing of numerous problems in the Ministry of Education and Higher Education. But we had no inkling that we were going to be sent to deal with them.

This appears to be what had happened. The Minister told me later, that the President had indicated to him shortly before the shift, that there were serious problems in the education sector and the Ministry, and that he had decided to send him there to address them. “I am giving you Dharmasiri also,” the President had said. I regretted leaving Agriculture. So did the Minister. We had just got our teeth into the job and had a vision of accomplishing so many things. The regret therefore was not due to any personal reasons.

On the other hand we knew Education was not going to be an easy Ministry to handle. If one’s responsibilities included the education of 4.3 million children in over 10,300 schools, having a teaching staff of 192,000 teachers, including about 14,000 principals and senior deputies, and with eight Provincial Councils to deal with, it was not going to be easy. But that was not all. We also had responsibility for about eight Universities and 28 Technical Colleges and units. The Ministry was also the National Centre for activities connected with UNESCO and therefore had to perform a coordinating role with so many other Ministries and agencies.

There was however an initially disturbing feature. I have already recounted in a previous chapter the disquiet engendered in my friends when they heard that I was to be sent as Chairman and Director-General of Broadcasting. When the news got round that I was going to Education, a similar disquiet manifested itself. Again, I received a number of telephone calls inquiring whether it was true that I was being sent to the Ministry of Education and on my affirming it to be correct, I received expressions of concern and sympathy. In my entire career of close upon 37 years, these were the only two occasions when some of my friends drawn from a number of different backgrounds thought it fit to commiserate with me on an appointment.

I myself was aware, I Ike many others, that there was a great deal of public criticism of the Ministry during this time. There were complaints of delays, inefficiency, corruption and lack of care. I was however not prepared for both the breadth and depth of feelings, if the telephone calls I received were anything to go by. It was also disconcerting that the Ministry of Education of a country should enjoy such a dubious reputation. It was therefore with a degree of reservation and even unhappiness that I responded to the Minister’s invitation to come and see him at his official residence at Stanmore Crescent on Saturday, March 31. The Minister as was characteristic of him had already got down to work.

When I met him, he had on his table some four volumes of a recent ADB report on Sri Lankan Education. He had already skimmed through them and had made several pages of handwritten notes. These he handed over to me to get typed and make extra copies. I for my part had not even heard of these reports until I met the Minister. In my entire career I had never met, or even heard of a Minister who displayed Mr. Athulathudali’s speed of response to a new situation. I do not know whether the fact that he was a champion hurdler, at one time holding the Sri Lankan Public Schools’ record for the 100 yards hurdles, had anything to do with his ability to get off the blocks so fast, whatever the circumstances. The Minister and I discussed a number of general issues pertaining to education, and possible arrangements to be made in the Ministry. I left after about an hour and 15 minutes, clutching his precious notes.

On the morning of Monday April 2, 1990, I walked into the Ministry of Education and Higher Education housed in the storied building named “Isurupaya,” situated at Battaramulla within sight of “Tile Overseas School,” where many children of diplomats attended. The first curious feature I noticed was that nobody really seemed to expect me. I found my way into the spacious and elegant room meant for the Secretary, who was also the Director-General of Education.

It later transpired that some at least were waiting for the new Secretary to telephone and declare an auspicious time at which he would come. They were also planning some kind of reception. As mentioned in an earlier chapter, I have always dispensed with all these. For me, the auspicious time begins when the office is open for business.

When the appropriate officers discovered now with some concern that I had arrived and came to see me, one of the first things that I told them was that I would like to have a staff meeting that afternoon. I required the presence of all staff officers in the Ministry and the Departments and agencies under the Ministry, other than Higher Education. I had decided to have a separate meeting with them within the next day or two. The officers looked rather perplexed.

“You mean you want to meet the staff officers in the Ministry?” they inquired. I repeated my request. “But Sir, that would be about 125-130 staff officers. The conference room can take in only about a hundred,” they said. This revealed that the Ministry had probably not had a combined staff officers’ meeting for a long time. I was not prepared to let things off so lightly. I said, “Coming in I saw some nice trees in the premises. History shows that a great deal of education had taken place under trees. There is nothing to prevent discussions on education too, being conducted under trees.

Assemble everybody under a tree.” The officers looked shocked at this unorthodox approach, but when afternoon came, they somehow managed to squeeze in about 115 officers into the conference room.

The rest were either on leave or had gone out of Colombo.

During my as yet very brief stay of just a few hours in the Ministry, I noticed something quite disconcerting. This was the almost religious awe with which the Secretary was regarded and treated by senior officials of the various Education Services. There were also officers of the Sri Lanka Administrative Service, including those at Senior Additional Secretary level. They for their part treated you with respect, and certainly not with exaggerated awe.

The question that bothered me was as to why, educated and qualified people, quite a few of them with post-graduate diplomas and masters degrees should behave in this fashion. Why were they so cowed? Why had such a culture prevailed? Senior level officials would stand at the threshold of my room and would not come in. Even when invited they would take a few steps towards me and then stop and hesitate. It is not an exaggeration to state that some of them had to be literally coaxed to come up to me. In my entire 29 years of service, prior to this appointment I had not witnessed a phenomenon such as this. In due course I shared my thoughts with the Minister. By that time, he himself had noticed this whole culture of exaggerated respect and fear. This being the situation, it was no wonder that there were serious problems in education.

Laying down the framework

At my staff meeting in the afternoon, I said that since trying to understand the new Secretary would take time, which could be put to better use, difficult as the exercise was, I would try to analyze

my character and attitudes for their benefit. I made the following points:-

1. That I was a very direct person and that if I said something they should not waste time and energy looking for hidden meanings. I meant what I said and no more.

2. I expected the same direct response from others because I too had no time to contemplate the issue of hidden meanings.

3. I was used to always treat everyone with respect, and I expected the same respect and no more. I did not want anyone to bend in two. On the contrary obsequiousness irritated me.

4. All fears must be dispelled, and an open intellectual dialogue fostered very early.

5. Anyone had the latitude and right to disagree with me or for that matter with the Minister and to state that disagreement without any fear.

6. However when all disagreements and points of view had been taken into account and a decision reached, it was incumbent on everyone to carry out that decision, even though some may not be personally convinced.

7. I would like to hear and see good humour, laughter and enjoyment at work.

8. Avoidable delays would be a matter of concern.

9. In any dealings with me credibility was of the highest importance and should never be lost. We are all human and we all make mistakes, but mistakes should not be aggravated by the greater mistake of lying about them.

10. I was by nature, training and personal discipline both mild of character and patient. But it would be a grave mistake to confuse mildness with weakness , and it would be best that nobody put this to the test.

I have not had the occasion to make such an address ever before or after. But the situation in the Ministry really frightened me. I frankly told them about the opinion that professionals and educated people outside had about them as demonstrated by the telephone calls I had received. I asked them whether this was the image they wanted about themselves. They agreed not. “In any case, now the Minister and I are a part of you we are certainly going change this,” I said. “Otherwise, I shall certainly not want to serve here,” I concluded.

The rest of the meeting consisted of a briefing and dialogue on various matters of relevance to the educational sector. I think, I did manage to infuse some ease and good humour to the meeting, mainly because this was my natural style, as many public servants who had worked with me would vouch for. The whole exercise seemed to have had a cathartic effect, because one could see a visible loosening up, which resulted in loud and animated discussions after the meeting on the corridors. The Ministry that was as silent as the grave, seemed now to display considerable traces of life.

Right from the very beginning, the Minister followed a policy of open dialogue. He also believed in de-mystifying institutions and drawing out the talents of their people through open procedures. As in the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Co-operatives, discussions, meetings and conferences became animated, lively and thought provoking. Mr. Athulathmudali’s central concern was how to achieve the difficult task of overall quality improvement across the board, in all subject areas and disciplines. At the same time he recognized the importance of English and sought ways and means to expand the number of hours of English teaching, as well as improve teacher training in this area.

He was particularly concerned with the issue of confidence, in speaking the language. He introduced, papers at lower levels in English, Sinhala and Tamil and gave candidates the option of sitting for lower level papers in Any language, whilst they were sitting for the GCE “O” level examination. The intention was to take away the sense of failure from the minds of students, who might have failed papers at “O” level in these subjects. They would gain a sense of satisfaction if they received a certificate for a paper which they had passed at their own level of competence and achievement.

The graded Sinhala and Tamil language papers were mainly meant for Sinhala and Tamil students who wanted to acquire language skills in each others languages. This initiative became quite popular, judging from the numbers who sat these papers.

The Minister also saw the need to upgrade technical education. He rightly perceived the psychology of technical education, the fact that the community regarded it as a lesser vehicle for those who were not clever enough or bright enough to pursue academic courses. He wanted to change this mindset. He understood the Sri Lankan context where a “degree” was highly regarded. He therefore spent considerable time and effort in constructing a ladder for technical education, culminating in a Bachelor of Technology degree. His main purpose in doing this was his recognition of the importance of technical education for the future of the country and the necessity to bring down the virtual class barrier between academic and technical education.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Pieris)



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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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