Features
The Downplaying of Our National Languages: the Advantages of English
I recognized the advantages that we had inherited from the British through our knowledge of the English language. But I also began to realize that we had so exalted our knowledge of English that it had been at the expense of the neglect of our national languages. For example in India, although the members of its upper/middle classes spoke impeccable English, they conversed at home in Hindi or in their regional languages, whereas in Ceylon the middle class usually spoke English at home, with the local languages being reserved only for the servants.
I wondered why this was so. I reasoned that since India was a big country, English could hardly be expected to percolate deeply within it. Besides, India’s upper classes had access to independent wealth, whereas in Ceylon, much of the middle-class wealth was milked from the British through the cinnamon and rubber trades, arrack-renting, etc. Whatever the reason, the fact is that we ‘learned’ to look down on our national languages, more than the other countries of Asia.
This bias against the local languages was also reflected in the education in our Colombo schools. The Sinhalese and Tamil classes were treated as a joke by us schoolboys, with much fun being had at the expense of our unfortunate Sinhala and Tamil teachers. The point is that we were ‘conditioned’ to look down on our national languages, while becoming more erudite in English literature and history, which was the legacy that we inherited from colonial times.
Some knowledge of English brought advantages to those who had access to it. The seamless absorption of the Ceylonese Burgher community into Australia in the 1950s-1960s was possible (apart from their colour) mainly due to their command of English. Similarly, it enabled the later migrations of middle-class professionals into high income countries such as the UK, USA and Canada.
For persons like me who joined international organizations, English education was the key to our success. I was called upon repeatedly to re-write the reports written by my English/British colleagues, while I also found that I knew more British and European History than they did! Although I was aware that this knowledge was acquired at the cost of our local languages, I also realized that there was no reason why we could not have had both, as has been achieved by many other countries, such as India, Malaysia and the Philippines, among others.
Communal Concord
It would seem appropriate to add a word on ethnic relations in Ceylon at the end of the colonial period (1930-1945). I remember the easy camaraderie between my Sinhala friends and myself, a Ceylon Tamil, at a time when ethnicity or race was not an issue. I remember that in Royal Prep (at around the age of eight years) we would split into two teams to play ‘Police and Rogues’ or ‘Cops and Robbers’. SoThe Downplaying of Our National Languages:
the Advantages of Englishmetimes we would switch into ‘Sinhalese and Tamils’ to play the same game, often with Sinhalese friends joining the Tamil side to equalize numbers. The main thing is that we did not care a hoot whether one was Sinhalese or Tamil!
This easy, amicable relation between races reminds me of a similar situation in ex-colonial Jamaica. While in Jamaica around 1971, I was out walking with my young nephew and his three best friends. These friends, around 15-16 years of age, happened to be an African of former slave origin, a Chinese boy whose ancestors had worked in the mines, and an Indian boy whose forbears worked as ‘coolies’ in the sugar plantations. I was witness to their boyhood banter, in which racially-offensive epithets were freely and affectionately used.
To something that the Indian boy said, the African black replied ‘Don’t talk sh-t, you bloody Indian coolie-man’. To which the Indian boy replied, ‘Go to hell, you bloody niggi- (nigger) man’. When the Chinese boy interrupted, they all shouted, ‘Shut up, you bloody Chini-man!’ While this boyhood exchange occurred in Jamaica in 1971, in Ceylon by that time, any discussion of race had to be approached cautiously. Meanwhile, in the USA, ‘politically correct’ speech is consciously being used to mask the reality of racial rancour.
Life in the Plantations
I cannot presume to give a full picture of the life as lived by the hardy planters of yore, because I did not know it well enough. Although I knew little of the planters’ life, I envied their life in the rolling hills of our beautiful hill country. But many were the problems of management of the big tea estates and of the labour within them. Even the management tasks of a planter’s household were complicated by the lack of electricity and refrigeration in the 1940s. Hence a lot of time was spent on ensuring adequate provisions for the household, growing vegetables at home, ensuring that there was enough bread, and enough beef in the ‘beef box’.
The planter’s life was a lonely one, shut away on a remote estate, with his children away in boarding school and left alone at home in the evening with no electricity, TV or telephone. It strikes me that an unhappily married couple would have been doomed to confinement with a morose partner every evening! On the positive side, I remember an FAO colleague telling me that their happiest years were spent on an estate in Talawakelle. The lady had feared the worst when the bridegroom had proposed to go away to far off Ceylon. Instead, compared to her life in England, she was welcomed to a posh home, served with cocktails before dinner, formal dressing-up for dinner, which was served by liveried waiters.
Compared to their middle-class or lower-middle class lives in England, the planters lived (or acted out) their versions of the landed gentry in their native lands, setting a difficult example for the Ceylonese planters to follow. The saving social grace of a planter’s lonely life was the social evenings at the Club, located usually in the nearest big town. These Club events usually centered round a game of cricket or rugby, and were an occasion for social gossip as well as for drinking and dancing.
I was also struck by the manners and social graces required to survive as a planter among the aspiring plantation gentry. Despite being alone, the English planter and his wife would dress up formally for dinner each evening: he in a formal dinner jacket, and she in a long evening gown. They would meet at the appointed hour for cocktails, after which dinner would be served with wine. It was important to use the correct knives, forks and glasses for the different courses and for different occasions. The young Ceylonese trainee planters had to learn these culinary and social etiquette in order to be respected by the servants and the workers on the estate. If word got around that they were not up to the Englishman’s social etiquette standards, there was no future for them in the plantations.
Life in the Provinces
Since I served in only one district, the Batticaloa district in the Eastern Province, my comments are confined only to that district. I was able to see, first, how the British handled their affairs during the last years of colonial rule, and later, when I served as Assistant Government Agent in the 1950s, how the colonial traditions still lingered on. For various reasons particular to this district, things had changed little from British times till the 1950s, with the Government Agent and Assistant Government Agent still being accorded a much higher status than in other districts.
Even in 1957, a full ten years after independence, I was often addressed as ‘Your Honour, Sir’, while even senior clerks would address me in the third person, as a mark of respect. When I drove every morning through the portals of the old Dutch Fort in which the Batticaloa Kachcheri was housed, all the people in the large courtyard would stand up. They would continue standing as a show of respect, causing me (at 26 years of age) to cringe past them guiltily in order to reach my own office! Thus the colonial mentality lingered on, even long after the colonial period was over – if only in this particular district.
This exaggerated regard for the high government officials was reflected also in the district’s social life. In British times, the social scene was dominated by the Gymkhana Club, which was open only to the higher officials of the government. This in effect ensured that all the members were British. But in my father’s time (1936-1941), Ceylonese officials holding higher-level posts (like my father, a medical doctor) were allowed to become members. I remember my mother hitching up her sari and hammering forearm drives (her backhand was weak!) to win the Eastern Province Tennis Championship over Mrs. Poole, the English Superintending Engineer’s wife, whose short skirts were ‘magic’ in those days.
However, when I became AGA some 20 years later in 1955, I found that the Government Agent was still the ex-officio President of the Club and I, the AGA (at 26 years), its Vice-President! Meanwhile, the best sportsmen were still being excluded from the Club because they did not rank high enough in government service. The GA and I decided to resign our posts in the Club and had to struggle to get the Club’s rules changed – and so to end the last social vestiges of colonial rule.
The end of the colonial period did not, however, change the beauty of the district: its people, its jungles, lagoons, and beaches. I know of tea planters who would come all the way from Uva for long weekends of swimming, fishing and snipe shooting before returning to their mountain retreats. Living by the lagoon, I still remember its calmness in the morning and the lulling lap of its waves at night. Both the happiest years of my childhood and the most productive years of my professional life were spent in this district.
(Excerpted from Fallen Leaves, an anthology of memoirs by LC Arulpragasam)
Features
The middle-class money trap: Why looking rich keeps Sri Lankans poor
Every January, we make grand resolutions about our finances. We promise ourselves we’ll save more, spend less, and finally get serious about investments. By March, most of these promises were abandoned, alongside our unused gym memberships.
The problem isn’t our intentions, it’s our approach. We treat financial management as a personality flaw that needs fixing, rather than a skill that needs the right strategy. This year let’s try something different. Let’s put actual behavioural science behind how we handle our rupees.
Based on the article ‘Seven proven, realistic ways to improve your finances in 2026’ published on 1news.co.nz, I aim to adapt these recommended financial strategies to the Sri Lankan context.” Here are seven money habits that work because they’re grounded in how humans actually behave, not how we wish we would.
While these strategies offer useful direction for strengthening personal financial management, it is important to acknowledge that they may not be suitable for everyone. Many households face severe financial pressure and cannot realistically follow traditional income allocation frameworks, such as the well-known but outdated Singalovada Sutta guidelines, when even meeting daily food expenses has become a struggle. For individuals and families who are burdened by escalating costs of essentials, including electricity, water, mobile connectivity, transport, and other non-negotiable commitments, strict adherence to prescriptive models is neither practical nor fair to expect. Therefore, readers should remain mindful of their own financial realities and adapt these strategies in ways that align with their income levels, essential obligations, and broader personal circumstances.
1. Your Money Problems Aren’t Moral Failures, They’re Data Points
When every rupee misspent becomes evidence of personal failure, we stop looking for solutions. Shame is a terrible problem-solver. It makes us hide from our bank statements, avoid difficult conversations, and repeat the same mistakes because we’re too embarrassed to examine them.
Instead, try replacing judgment with curiosity. Transform “I’m terrible with money” into “That’s interesting, why did I make that choice?” Suddenly, mistakes become information rather than indictments. You might notice you overspend at Odel or high-end restaurant when stressed about work. Or that you commit to expensive plans when feeling socially pressured. Perhaps your online shopping peaks during power cuts when you’re bored and frustrated.
2. Forget the Year-Long Marathon, Focus on 90-Day Sprints
A Sri Lankan year is densely packed with financial obligations: Sinhala/Tamil Avurudu, Christmas, Vesak, and Poson celebrations; recurring school fees; seasonal festival shopping; wedding and almsgiving periods; yearend festivities; and an evergrowing list of marketing-driven occasions such as Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, and many others. Each of these events carries its own financial weight, often placing additional pressure on already-stretched household budgets.
Research consistently shows that shorter time frames work better. Ninety days is long enough to create a meaningful change, but short enough to maintain focus and momentum. So instead of one overwhelming annual goal, give yourself four quarterly upgrades.
In the first quarter, the focus may be on organising your contributions toward key duties and responsibilities, while also ensuring that you are maximising the available benefits for your designated beneficiaries. Quarter two could be about building a small emergency fund, even Rs. 10,000 provides breathing room. Quarter three might involve auditing your bills and subscriptions to eliminate unnecessary expenses. Quarter four could be when you finally start that investment you’ve been postponing. You don’t need superhuman discipline or complicated spreadsheets, just focused attention, one quarter at a time.
3. Make One Decision That Eliminates Weekly Worry
The best money decisions are the ones you make once but benefit from repeatedly. These are decisions that permanently reduce what behavioural economists call “decision fatigue”, the mental exhaustion that comes from constantly managing money in your head. What’s one choice you could make today that would remove a recurring financial worry?
It might be setting up an automatic standing order to transfer Rs. 10,000 to savings the day your salary arrives, before you can spend it. Maybe it’s consolidating your scattered savings accounts into one that actually pays decent return.
These aren’t dramatic moves that require personality transplants. They’re structural decisions that work with your human tendency toward inertia rather than against it. Most banks now offer seamless digital automation. You can set it up once and benefit from that decision every single month without additional effort or willpower. You make the decision once. You benefit all year. That’s leveraging your energy intelligently.
4. Stop Spending on Who You Think You Should Be
Sri Lankan society comes with heavy expectations. The car you drive, the school your children attend, the hotels you patronise, the brands you wear, all communicate your worth, or so we’re told. Much of our spending isn’t about actual enjoyment. It’s about meeting unspoken expectations, keeping up appearances, or aspiring to a version of us that doesn’t actually exist.
We buy expensive saris we’ll wear once because everyone does. We maintain memberships to clubs we rarely visit because it looks good. We say yes to weekend plans at overpriced restaurants because declining feels like admitting we can’t afford it. We upgrade phones not because ours stopped working, but because others have.
Before your next purchase, ask yourself: do I actually want this, or do I want to want it? If it’s the second one, walk away. You won’t miss it. This isn’t about deprivation, it’s about precision. When you stop spending to perform and start spending to support the life you genuinely enjoy, money pressure eases dramatically. Your resources align with your actual values rather than imagined expectations.
Maybe you don’t care about fancy restaurants, but you love long drives along the southern coast. Maybe branded clothing leaves you cold, but you’d spend any amount on art supplies or books. That’s fine. Spend accordingly.
5. Break One Habit, See If You Actually Miss It
We’re creatures of routine, which serves us well until those routines outlive their usefulness. Sometimes we spend money on habits that started for good reasons but no longer serve us. Alpechchathava, in Buddha’s teaching, means living contentedly with few desires. It guides a person to manage money wisely by avoiding excess spending, unnecessary debt, and craving, and by focusing on essential needs and wholesome priorities. In this way, wealth supports mental cultivation, generosity, and spiritual progress.
The daily kottu roti that once felt like a convenient solution after working late may now have turned into an unnecessary routine. Similarly, frequent P&S or Caravan snack runs, and the habit of picking up sugary treats like cakes and sweets, are not only costly but also wellknown to be unhealthy, as nutritionists consistently point out. Beyond food, other expenses such as magazine subscriptions, the monthly coffee meetup, or weekend mall browsing often continue on autopilot without us realising how much they add up. These seemingly small, habitual expenses can quietly drain your budget while offering very little longterm value.
Try this experiment: keep a money diary for one week. Note every expense, no matter how small. Then identify one regular spend and eliminate it for the following week. If you don’t miss it? Excellent, keep it gone. If you genuinely miss it? Add it back without guilt. This isn’t about permanent sacrifice.
It’s about snapping yourself out of autopilot and checking whether your spending still reflects your current reality, priorities and purchasing power. You might discover you’re spending Rs. 15,000 monthly on things you barely notice.
6. Create Your Crisis Playbook on a Good Day
Many financial disasters don’t happen because we’re careless, they happen because we’re panicked. When crisis strikes, job loss, medical emergency, unexpected business downturn, fear hijacks our decision-making. Our rational brain exists while panic makes expensive choices: high-interest personal loans, selling investments at losses, making commitments we can’t sustain.
The solution? Make your crisis plan before the crisis arrives. On a calm day, sit down and document: If I lost my income tomorrow, what would I do first? Which expenses are truly essential? What’s the absolute minimum I need to function? Who could I call for advice? Which savings are untouchable, which could be accessed if necessary? What government support or loan restructuring options exist (Not in Sri Lanka)? This is a sort of preparation for sudden shocks.
7. Question the Money Stories You Inherited
Sometimes our biggest financial obstacles aren’t failed attempts, they’re the attempts we never make because we’ve internalised limiting stories. “Our family was never good with money.” “Investing is for rich people.” “I’m just not the type who earns more.” “Women don’t understand finance.” These narratives, absorbed from family, culture, or past experiences, become invisible fences.
Question them. Where did this belief originate? Is it actually true, or is it a story you’ve been telling yourself for so long, it feels like fact? What would happen if you tested it? Often, these stories protect us from the discomfort of trying and potentially failing. But they also protect us from the possibility of succeeding. And that’s a far costlier protection than most of us realise.
The Bottom Line
Improving your finances in 2026 doesn’t require becoming a different person. It requires understanding the person you already are, your patterns, triggers, and tendencies, and working with them rather than against them.
These aren’t magic solutions. They’re evidence-based approaches that acknowledge a simple truth: you’re not broken, and your money management doesn’t need fixing through willpower alone. It needs better systems, clearer thinking, and a lot less shame.
Features
Public scepticism regarding paediatric preventive interventions
A significant portion of the history of paediatrics is a triumph of prevention. From the simple act of washing hands to the miracle of vaccines, preventive strategies have been the unsung heroes, drastically lowering child mortality rates and setting the stage for healthier, longer lives across the globe. Simple measures like promoting personal hygiene, ensuring the proper use of toilets, and providing Vitamin K immediately after birth to prevent dangerous bleeding, have profound impacts. Advanced interventions like inhalers for asthma, robust trauma care systems, and even cutting-edge genetic manipulations are testament to the relentless and wonderful progress of paediatric science.
A shining beacon that has signified increased survival and marked reductions in mortality across the board in all paediatric age groups has been the development of various preventive strategies in the science of children’s health, from newborns to adolescents. The institution of such proven measures across the globe, has resulted in gains that are almost too good to be true. From a Sri Lankan perspective, these measures have contributed towards the unbelievable reduction of the under-5-year mortality rate from over 100 per 1000 live births in the 1960s to the seminal single-digit figure of 07 per 1000 live births in the 2020s.
Yet for all this, despite the overwhelming evidence of success, a most worrying trend is emerging. That is public scepticism and pessimism regarding these vital interventions. This doubt is not a benign phenomenon; it poses a real danger to the health of our children. At the heart of this challenge lies the potent, often insidious, spread of misinformation and disinformation.
The success of any preventive health strategy in paediatrics rests not just on its scientific efficacy, but on parental cooperation and commitment. When parents hesitate or refuse to follow recommended guidelines, the shield of prevention is compromised. Today, the most potent threat to this partnership is the flood of false information.
Misinformation is false information spread unintentionally. A well-meaning friend sharing a rumour about a vaccine side-effect they heard online is spreading misinformation.
Disinformation is false information deliberately created and disseminated to cause harm or sow doubt. This often comes from organised groups or individuals with vested interests; sometimes financial, sometimes ideological, who seek to undermine public trust in medical institutions and scientific consensus.
The digital age, particularly social media, has become the prime breeding ground for these falsehoods. Complex scientific data is reduced to emotionally charged, simplistic, and often sensationalist soundbites that travel faster and farther than the truth.
The most visible battleground is childhood vaccination. Decades of robust, high-quality research have confirmed vaccines as one of the most cost-effective and successful public health interventions ever conceived. Global vaccination efforts have saved an estimated 150 million lives in the past 50 years, eradicating or drastically controlling diseases like polio, measles, diphtheria, and tetanus.
However, a single, long-retracted, and scientifically debunked paper claiming a link between the Measles-Mumps-Rubella (MMR) vaccine and autism continues to be weaponised by disinformation campaigns. This persistent myth, despite being soundly disproven, taps into deep-seated fears about children’s development. Other common vaccine myths target ingredients such as trace amounts of aluminium or mercury, which are harmless in the quantities used and often less than what is naturally found in food or the idea that “natural immunity” from infection is superior, totally ignoring the fact that natural infection carries the devastating risk of severe complications, long-term disability, and even death. The tangible consequence of this doubt is the dropping of childhood vaccination rates in various communities, leading to the wholly unnecessary re-emergence of vaccine-preventable diseases like measles.
Scepticism is not limited to vaccines. It can touch any area of paediatric preventive care where an intervention might seem unnecessary, invasive, or have perceived risks. Routine screenings for speech disorders, motor skills, or mental health issues can sometimes be perceived as medicalising normal childhood variations or putting a “label” on a child. Parents may resist or delay screening, missing the critical window for early intervention of proven measures that are likely to help. Advice on managing childhood obesity, reducing screen time, or adopting a balanced diet can be viewed by some parents as intrusive or judgmental, leading to poor adherence to essential health-promoting behaviours.
The regular use of inhalers for asthma or other chronic conditions might be looked down upon due to the fear of “dependency”, “addiction”, or long-term side effects, despite medical consensus that these preventive measures keep conditions controlled and prevent life-threatening exacerbations.
The common thread is a lack of understanding of the risk-benefit ratio. Parents, bombarded by fear-mongering narratives, often overestimate the rare, mild risks of an intervention while catastrophically underestimating the severe and permanent risks of the disease or condition itself.
The power of paediatric preventive medicine is not in a single shot or pill, but in the consistent, committed partnership between healthcare providers and parents. Paediatric science, driven by rigorous evidence-based medicine, do continue to refine guidelines, conduct transparent research, and communicate its findings clearly. When guidelines are confusing or lack robust evidence, it naturally creates openings for doubt. The scientific community’s commitment to continuous quality improvement and accessibility is paramount.
Ultimately, the success of prevention rests with the parents. Parenting, as a vital form of preventive care, includes all activities that raise happy, healthy, and capable children. The simple, non-medical steps mentioned in the introduction, proper handwashing, good sanitation, and encouraging exercise, are all forms of parental preventive intervention.
For more complex interventions, parental commitment requires several actions. They need to seek and trust the guidance provided by qualified healthcare professionals over anonymous, unsubstantiated online claims. They need to engage in an open dialogue by asking relevant questions and expressing concerns to doctors in an open, non-confrontational manner. A good healthcare provider will use this as an opportunity to educate and build trust, and not a portal to simply dismiss concerns. Then, of course, there is the spectre of adherence to various protocols and actions by the parents. These include consistently following recommended schedules, whether for well-child checkups, vaccinations, or daily medication protocols.
Addressing public scepticism requires a multi-pronged, collaborative strategy. It is not just about correcting false facts (debunking), but about building resilience against future falsehoods (prebunking). The single most influential voice in a parent’s decision-making process is their paediatrician or primary care provider. Clinicians must move beyond simply reciting facts. They need to use empathetic communication techniques, like Motivational Interviewing (MI), which focuses on active listening, validating parental concerns, and then collaboratively guiding them toward evidence-based decisions. For example, responding with, “I hear you’re worried about the side-effects you read about. Can I share what we know from decades of safety monitoring?” Being open about common, minor side effects such as a short-lasting fever after a vaccine pre-empts the shock and distrust that occurs when an expected, yet unmentioned, reaction happens.
Public health campaigns must go on the offensive, not just a defensive fact-checking spree. Teaching the general public how disinformation works, the use of “fake experts”, selective cherry-picked data, and conspiracy theories all add up to a most powerful form of inoculation (prebunking) against future exposure. Health institutions must simplify their communications and make verified, high-quality information easily accessible on platforms where parents are already looking.
Parents often trust their peers as much as their doctors. Engaging local community leaders, faith leaders, and even trusted social media influencers to share accurate, positive messages about paediatric health can shift the public narrative at a grassroots level. While protecting privacy, sharing aggregate data and stories about the dramatic decline in childhood diseases thanks to prevention can re-emphasise the collective good.
The battle against child mortality and morbidity has been one of the great human achievements, a testament to scientific ingenuity and collective effort. Today, the greatest threat to maintaining these gains is not a new virus, but a breakdown of trust fuelled by unchecked falsehoods.
Paediatric preventive interventions, from a cake of soap and a proper toilet to the most sophisticated genetic therapies, are the foundation of a healthy future for every child. To secure this future, the scientific community must remain transparent, the healthcare system must lead with empathy, and the public must commit to informed, critical thinking. By rejecting the noise of disinformation and embracing the clear, evidence-based consensus of science, we can ensure that every child continues to benefit from the life-saving progress that defines modern paediatrics. The well-being of the next generation demands nothing less than this renewed commitment.
Little children are not in a position to make abiding decisions regarding their health, especially regarding preventive strategies in health. It is ultimately the crucial decisions made by responsible parents regarding the health of their children that really matter. As doctors, our commitment is never to leave any child behind.
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.
Joint Editor, Sri Lanka Journal of Child Health
Section Editor, Ceylon Medical Journal
Features
Attacks on PM vulgar, misogynistic; education reforms welcome
We express our profound concern and deep outrage at the vulgar, misogynistic, and defamatory attacks being directed at the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya.
Dr. Harini Amarasuriya is not merely a political leader; she is a scholar, public intellectual, and lifelong advocate of social justice, equality, and education. Attempts to discredit her through personal abuse rather than reasoned policy debate are not only an insult to her, but an assault on democratic values, women’s leadership, and intellectual integrity in public life.
Such attacks are unjust and unethical, and they corrode democratic discourse. We are deeply disappointed that certain political actors and their supporters continue to rely on misinformation, prejudice, and emotional manipulation, instead of engaging in rational, evidence-based, and constructive debate.
Sri Lanka has already paid a heavy price for decades of politics rooted in fear, communal division, and sentiment-driven populism. The country’s economic collapse and social breakdown are the direct consequences of these failed approaches. The people decisively rejected this style of politics through the Aragalaya, signaling a clear demand for change. Sri Lanka now stands at a historic turning point. After decades of corruption, ethnic manipulation, and policy paralysis, the people have given a clear mandate for systemic reform.
At this critical moment, Sri Lanka urgently needs structural reforms, particularly in education, which is the foundation of long-term national development, social mobility, and global competitiveness. Yet we observe that the very forces responsible for the country’s decline are once again attempting to block or derail reforms by exploiting religious, cultural, and emotional narratives.
We strongly affirm that no nation can be rebuilt through hatred, fear, or division. Education reform is not a political threat; it is a national necessity. Efforts to undermine reform through personal attacks and manufactured controversies serve only those who seek to return to power by keeping the country weak, divided, and intellectually impoverished.
Those who now attack Dr. Harini Amarasuriya are not defending culture or morality. They are defending privilege and political survival. Having failed the country for over seventy-five years through communalism, patronage, and anti-intellectualism, they now fear that an educated, critical, and empowered generation will render their outdated politics irrelevant.
This is why they target:
=a woman,
=an academic,
=and a reformer.
We therefore state clearly that we:
1. Condemn all forms of character assassination, gender-based attacks, and hate propaganda against the Prime Minister and Minister of Education.
2. Affirm our full support for Dr. Harini Amarasuriya’s leadership in advancing Sri Lanka’s education reforms.
3. Urge the government to proceed firmly and without retreat in implementing the proposed education reforms, in line with national policy and the public mandate.
4. Call upon academics, professionals, teachers, parents, and citizens to stand together against reactionary forces that seek to sabotage reform through fear mongering and disinformation.
A country cannot be rebuilt by those who destroyed it. A future cannot be created by those who fear education reforms.
Sri Lanka’s future must not be sacrificed for the ambitions of a few.Sri Lanka must move forward — with knowledge, dignity, and courage.
Signatories:
1. Markandu Thiruvathavooran, Attorney at law
2. S. Arivalzahan, University of Jaffna
3. Dr S.Ramesh, University of Jaffna
4. Dr. Mariadas Alfred, Former Dean, University of Peradeniya
5. Prof B.Nimalathasan, Senior Professor, University of Jaffna
6. S. Srivakeesan, Station Master, SriLankan Railways
7. A. T. Aravinthan, Branch Manager, Commercial Bank
8. Dr. S. Niththiyaruban, Paediatrician, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna
9. Dr. S. Selvaganesh, Plastic and Reconstructive Surgeon, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna
10. Dr. S. Mathievaanan, Consultant Surgeon, Teaching Hospital, Jaffna
11. Prof. P. Iyngaran, University of Jaffna
12. Eng. M. Sooriasegaram, President, Education Development Consortium
13. Dr. S. Raviraj, Senior Consultant Surgeon, Former Dean, Faculty of Medicine, University, Jaffna.
14. Mr. Saminadan Wimal, University of Jaffna
15. Dr. A. Antonyrajan, University of Jaffna
16. P. Regno, Attorney at Law
17. Prof. J. Prince Jeyadevan, University of Jaffna
18. Prof. S. Muhunthan, University of Jaffna
19. Prof. R. Kapilan, University of Jaffna
20. Dr. S. Jeevasuthan, University of Jaffna
21. J.S. Thevaruban, University of Jaffna
22. S. Balaputhiran, University of Jaffna
23. Dr. N. Sivapalan, Retired Senior lecturer, University of Jaffna
24. I. P. Dhanushiyan, University of Jaffna
25. Dr. K. Thabotharan, University of Jaffna
26. Dr. Bahirathy J. Rasanen, University of Jaffna
27. Perinpanayagam Ronibus, Vice Secretary, Change Charitable Trust, Jaffna
28. Dr. S. Maheswaran, University of Peradeniya
29. Mr. S. Laleesan, Principal, Kopay Teachers’ College
30. Victor Antany, Teacher, Kilinochchi
31. K. Shanthakumar, Principal, Technical College, Vavuniya
32. S. Thirikaran, Principal, J/ Puttur Srisomaskanda College
33. Dr. T. Vannarajan, Advanced Technical Institute, Jaffna.
34. X. Don Bosco, Resource person, Piliyandala Educational Zone
35. K. Ravikumar, Regional Manager, Powerhands Pvt Ltd
36. Sathiyapriya Jeyaseelan, DO, Economist
37. A. Kalaichelvan, Chief Accountant, Animal Productive & Health
38. C. Vathanakumar, Retired Project Director
39. P. Kirupakaran, Department of Buildings (NP)
40. A. Antony Pilinton, David Peris Company, Jaffna
41. A. Muralietharan, Social Activist
42. Sinthuja Sritharan, Independent Researcher
43. T. Sritharan, Social Activist
44. Ms. Gnasakthi Sritharan, Social Activist
45. P. Thevatharsan, Management Service Officer
46. . S. Mohan, Social Activist
47. K. Jeyakumaran, Social Activist
48. Dr. N. Nithianandan, Chairman, Ratnam Foundation
49. George Antony Cristy, Social Activist
50. S. Thangarasa, Social Activist
51. N. Bhavan, Retd. Deputy Principal, Mahajana College
52. P. Muthulingam, Executive Director, Institute of Social Development, Kandy
53. M.K. Sivarajah, Social Activist
54. Mr. V. Sivalingam, Human Rights Activist
55. S. Jeyaganeshan, Samuthi Development Officer
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