The government is being judicious in reading the signs of the time. The country continues to be in the throes of the economic crisis that it inherited. It faces formidable challenges in confronting a combined opposition that governed Sri Lanka for the past 76 years. In addition, the world is in crisis with international law being openly disregarded in the joint US‑Israel bombardment of Iran’s nuclear sites. Faced with such turbulence, there is a need to tread carefully in this context and not get out of depth in experimenting with change based on ideological conviction. Governments of small and less developed countries especially need to balance their ideological visions with the structural constraints imposed by global power politics.

 The government appears to be fully cognisant of international power structures. This can be seen in the manner it is seeking to overcome the economic crisis. The government leadership’s ideological roots are Marxist, yet they are not making a critique of the global capitalist system and its power structures, such as the International Monetary Fund, the global lender of last resort, in order to blaze a new path. Instead, the government is acting in conformity with the IMF prescription to overcome the economic crisis. Such strategic conformity aligns with what theorists of structural realism would describe as “balancing behaviour”.  There is an acknowledgement of the power of global institutions and aligning national policies accordingly.

 When viewed through the lens of global finance, the IMF epitomises the prevailing interntional economic power structure that is led by the United States. The IMF prescription is not reducing the inequitable burden of economic hardship that the masses of Sri Lankan people are forced to bear. The government is fulfilling most of the terms of the debt restructuring agreement that the former government led by President Ranil Wickremesinghe agreed to. The government’s determination to follow through on the IMF agreement is due to its recognition that it has found no viable alternative to it. The high‑level IMF delegation that visited Sri Lanka from 15–16 June 2025 were received positively.  The negotiations that took place were part of ongoing dialogue around the IMF bailout and targeted debt restructuring.

 Dual Crisis

 As a country that recently defaulted on its international debt repayments, declared international bankruptcy, experienced inflation peaking at around 70 percent, and saw its poverty level double to include a quarter of the population, the government cannot afford to take risks. In order to safeguard its economy and the lives of its people, it needs to have the support of the IMF. The IMF has warned that “there is no room for policy errors,” noting that about half of Sri Lanka’s sixteen past IMF programmes failed prematurely due to reversals. This stark reminder underlines why the traditional Marxist critique has been sidelined as suggested by IMF’s First Deputy Managing Director Gita Gopinath in her remarks during the IMF visit.

 However, the economic crisis is not the only global‑level crisis that Sri Lanka faces. It also has been facing a crisis of its international legitimacy due to accusations of human rights violations during the three‑decade‑long war. The visit of UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk to Sri Lanka this week is the first such high level visit since 2016. The government seems to be making every effort to make the visit a positive one it did with the IMF one. The UN High Commissioner is being facilitated to visit the north and east of the country to meet with a wide cross‑section of society, and will also be visiting the latest mass grave discovered in Chemmani in the north.  Indeed, it can be seen that the government is exercising a nuanced realpolitik.  It is balancing its Marxist roots with global economic orthodoxy from the IMF and at the same time engaging with international human rights scrutiny led by the UN.

 The visit to the Chemmani mass grave is particularly significant. The most controversial and divisive aspect of dealing with the past is that the accusation of war crimes by Sri Lankan  security forces. The soldiers who fought in the three‑decade‑long war are referred to in common parlance as “war heroes” by political leaders and the majority community alike. There is strong emotional and political resistance to punishing the security forces personnel who fought in the war. Across countries, and time periods, matters such as truth commissions and prosecutions hinge on balancing collective memory, national identity, and the demands of victims.  These are often a recipe for societal disagreement unless very carefully managed.

 More Loaded

  The visit of the UN High Commissioner to Sri Lanka will be a more politically charged and emotionally loaded event than the visit of the IMF delegation. The IMF visit was to encourage the government to stick to financial targets and engage in economic reforms. These do not engage emotional sentiment. But even here, there were some lines that the government did not cross. One of those was the issue of privatization of state assets, including the loss‑making national airline. The government has continued to stand by its policy that some state assets will not be for sale. Indeed, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has emphasised the need to protect national assets even while acknowledging the need for reform.

 The visit of the UN High Commissioner will be more divisive than that of the IMF as it is about dealing with the past, finding out the fate of those large numbers who went missing, and punishing those guilty of war crimes. A previous government tried to deal with these issues by co‑sponsoring UNHRC Resolution 30/1 of 2015, but it was unable to proceed very far with this due to the intense opposition it generated from the opposition and nationalist sections of the population. Human Rights Commissioner Türk’s visit to Chemmani to engage in site verification and cross-community dialogue suggests that the government may be following a strategy of public engagement which the international community can identify with.

 In both the IMF and UN interventions in Sri Lanka, it is the Sri Lankan government and society that will need to sustain any promise made and solution reached. Those from the international global institutions will come and go but Sri Lankans will need to live with the consequences of the decisions made. It is therefore important that the Sri Lankan parties to the problems that need to be addressed and both political representatives and those from civil society should be consulted and their buy‑in obtained. Unless reform is rooted in public discussion, in parliament and in civil society, reform measures will not be sustainable. There are also immediate changes that can be made such as in land return, demilitarization and increased reparation payments that display sincerity of purpose. Sustainable solutions emerge from internal legitimacy rather than external imposition.

by Jehan Perera

For Dr. Abdul Raheem Jesmil, archaeologist and lecturer at the Department of Archaeology, University of Peradeniya, the pursuit of heritage has always been about more than discovery — it is about restoring memory, asserting identity, and giving voice to communities that have long been left out of Sri Lanka’s national narrative.

Speaking to The Island, Dr. Jesmil reflected on how his passion for archaeology and Muslim heritage was born not in a classroom or museum, but in the quiet lanes of his hometown in the Eastern Province, where the past lay scattered and silent.

“I grew up surrounded by ruins, oral traditions, old mosques, and gravestones with unfamiliar scripts. No one really spoke about their significance. These were not considered part of the ‘national heritage’ we were taught about. That silence intrigued me,” he said.

The silence, in many ways, was political — a symptom of a historical narrative that has traditionally centred around Sinhala-Buddhist monuments and kingdoms. As a Muslim academic entering this space, Jesmil knew from the start that his journey would be fraught with both academic and social challenges.

“There was a time when it was unthinkable for someone from a minority background to pursue archaeology as a serious profession. There were doubts even from within my own community. People would ask — what are you going to find? Why are you digging up things no one talks about?”

What he has uncovered since then has not only reshaped how Sri Lanka’s Muslim history is viewed, but also laid the groundwork for a more inclusive vision of heritage that transcends ethnic and religious boundaries.

Jesmil is among a new generation of archaeologists who question the absence of minority heritage in mainstream archaeological discourse. His meticulous research into Islamic sites — from ancient mosques and gravestones to maritime trade ports — has revealed a long and deep-rooted Muslim presence on the island that predates colonial rule.

“Muslims didn’t just arrive with the Portuguese or Dutch. Our presence here is centuries old, embedded in the very landscape of this island — from the tombstones in Beruwala and Galle, to the inscriptions in Kufic Arabic found in Mannar and Jaffna.”

Among his most impactful work is the study of Islamic epigraphy in Sri Lanka — gravestones and mosque inscriptions written in Arabic, Tamil, Persian, and Sinhala. Many of these inscriptions date back to the 9th and 10th centuries, offering critical insights into Sri Lanka’s role in the Indian Ocean trade networks.

“The stone inscriptions are like living voices,” Jesmil explained. “One grave I studied in Beruwala bore the name of a Yemeni trader who died here over 700 years ago. The style of calligraphy, the language used — all of it connects us to histories far beyond our shores.”

He points out that Islamic inscriptions in Kufic — the earliest form of Arabic script — are evidence of early cultural and commercial exchange between Arab traders and Sri Lanka’s coastal communities. “We often forget,” he said, “that Sri Lanka was not isolated. It was a hub — a multicultural, multilingual, interconnected space.”

Jesmil’s research often challenges the linear, mono-ethnic view of Sri Lankan history. He draws attention to the multicultural character of ancient port cities like Colombo, Mantota (Mannar), Galle, and Trincomalee, where communities of Muslims, Tamils, Sinhalese, Chinese, and even Africans coexisted, collaborated, and intermarried.

 “It is crucial that we move beyond a nationalist archaeology,” he said. “When we excavate the past honestly, we find shared spaces, not segregated ones.”

In 2022, Jesmil led a groundbreaking community archaeology project in the coastal town of Kattankudy, collaborating with local schoolchildren, religious leaders, and civic groups to document and preserve neglected Islamic heritage sites. The project not only uncovered several undocumented 17th-century gravestones but also empowered local communities to become custodians of their own past.

 “Community archaeology is the future,” Jesmil insisted. “We cannot keep heritage locked in museums or elite academic circles. It must be owned by the people — especially the youth. When they see their history validated, it builds pride, resilience, and a sense of belonging.”

His efforts haven’t gone unnoticed. Jesmil is now consulted by national heritage boards and has presented his work at several international conferences, including at Leiden University and the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), London. Yet, despite international recognition, funding and institutional support for minority heritage remains limited.

“There’s still a long way to go. We need scholarships, heritage centres, and dedicated archives for Muslim, Tamil, and other underrepresented communities. Without this, our histories will continue to fade,” he warned.

One of Jesmil’s long-term goals is to establish a National Centre for Islamic and Intercultural Archaeology in Sri Lanka — a hub for research, conservation, and public education. He envisions it as a space where disciplines such as anthropology, history, language studies, and archaeology intersect to present a more holistic view of the island’s past.

“Such a centre would not only serve academics but also the wider public. It could host exhibitions, train young researchers, digitize ancient manuscripts, and even facilitate school programmes. Heritage must be a public good.”

His concern isn’t just about preserving the past — it’s about the dangers of historical erasure in a polarised present.

 “When people feel their histories are ignored or erased, it breeds alienation and mistrust. Inclusive archaeology can help us build bridges — to see each other not as rivals, but as co-inheritors of a shared legacy.”

When asked about his most unforgettable moments in the field, Jesmil recalls a solitary tombstone deep in the forest near Pottuvil.

 “It was overgrown, forgotten. The inscription was in Arabic-Tamil. It belonged to a woman who had died in the 14th century. Her epitaph read, ‘She was the light of her people.’ I stood there, overwhelmed, realising I was the first person to read those words in hundreds of years. That, to me, is the power of archaeology.”

Despite the challenges, Jesmil remains hopeful. His students, many of whom come from diverse ethnic and religious backgrounds, are inspired by his example and increasingly interested in researching Sri Lanka’s plural past.

“I always tell them — dig deeper, both into the ground and into your own histories. Ask questions. Reclaim your narratives.”

Dr. Jesmil’s work represents a vital countercurrent in Sri Lankan archaeology — one that refuses to accept erasure, and instead insists on remembrance. In his hands, gravestones speak, ruins whisper, and the forgotten are once again given voice.

“Sri Lanka is a mosaic,” he said in closing. “If we only preserve one piece, we miss the picture. But if we honour every fragment — Tamil, Muslim, Sinhala, Burgher, Vedda — we begin to see the beauty of the whole.”

By Ifham Nizam 

In a recent discussion with Hill Country Tamil teachers in Nuwara Eliya, a trade unionist said the claim that all have equal access to education in Sri Lanka, does not work for the Hill Country, because they, as a community, were denied free education for three decades after independence. Indeed, while we may be proud of the legacy of over eight decades of free education, since the Kannangara reforms in 1944, the dark strand in our history is the black hole of plantations without state schools until the 1980s.

In this column, I address the predicament of education in the Hill Country, drawing on the reflections of some of my former students based in Hatton, who are now junior researchers belonging to the Young Researchers Network (YRN). Through them, I have had the opportunity to connect with a younger generation of Hill Country Tamil teachers who have articulated the current challenges of education in schools. In their forums and seminars, we met a number of pioneer educationists from the community who enlightened us about the struggles after independence that were pivotal in changing the character of education in the Hill Country. Over the last year, YRN has also conducted field studies among the isolated Hill Country Tamil communities in the Southern Province. As I articulate below, education in the Hill Country cannot be understood without considering the history of disenfranchisement and landlessness that have excluded this community.

Citizenship, employment and land

The original sin of our country was the disenfranchisement of the Hill Country Tamils in the year after independence. The move to forcefully return them to India, despite many of them having lived here for generations, led to further devastation of the community with families being torn apart. To avoid being forcefully displaced to India, violence in the region with periodic pogroms and a famine with lack of work in the plantations, many of them sought refuge in other parts of the country, but only to become bonded labour in the rural hinterlands. This harrowing history led to the entire Hill Country Tamil community, including their political leadership – regardless of their varying politics and commitment to the struggles of the community – converging in demanding citizenship rights. That long struggle was finally resolved in the early 2000s in ensuring the citizenship rights of all Hill Country Tamils living in Sri Lanka.

However, citizenship alone did not ensure a better future for this community who had endured two centuries of economic and social exclusion. Sadly, while the Hill Country Tamil community, toiling on the plantations, had been the primary wealth producer of the country, it was denied the benefits of economic growth and wealth accumulated in Sri Lanka. Neither does this community have access to decent jobs and work, nor do they own land. The “total system” of the plantations – where the plantation companies have full control over a captive population as characterised by some scholars – has trapped these working people in despicable line room houses, with exploitative low wages and without avenues for other employment. A further crisis for the workers and their families emerged when estate employment began to decline particularly from the 1990s, leading them to seek jobs in the informal and service sectors in Colombo and other towns, and also leave for migrant work overseas.

Underlying this economic predicament is the lack of land rights for the majority of the community. Even though there is much fallow lands in the plantations, access to land has been systematically denied to the Hill Country Tamils. Even the land grants by the state for other marginalised communities in the rural countryside have not reached the Hill Country Tamils. This denial of land has been a conscious decision of successive governments, as landownership would break the captive character of their social and economic life necessary to sustain the plantation system.

While many of the people living in estates have been involved in vegetable cultivation and dairy farming for decades, the lack of formal land title means they cannot get any support from the agricultural department, they do not qualify for subsidised credit from the government and cannot access credit from banks. Indeed, next to the resolution of their citizenship and the advances in education discussed below, right to land has become the central demand of the community. If there is the political will, land for the Hill Country Tamil community is one of the most profound socio-economic changes the NPP Government could bring about.

Education and the current crisis

Amidst this harrowing history of exclusion and exploitation, the glimmer of hope in the Hill Country has been a new generation of educated youth. There are a couple generations of teachers who have emerged and are rapidly advancing the educational attainment of children in the Hill Country. Indeed, it is the presence of local teachers that can ensure holistic engagement with the students in their lived environment. A teacher living in an estate is easily accessible and can provide guidance and support on selecting A/L subjects and applying to universities. However, lack of facilities, such as school buildings, toilets, teachers quarters, as well as problems of access, especially the lack of transport in many of the remote areas, are characteristic of major infrastructure shortcomings. Furthermore, the lack of science teachers and the unwillingness for teachers to work in remote areas undermine children’s meaningful education. There is thus the need for further expansion of the mid-day school meal programme and other supports, including hostel facilities for secondary school children, following, for example, science subjects.

In this context, the recent economic crisis and rising poverty levels have led to an unprecedented increase in school dropouts and irregular attendance. This is also the case for Hill Country students in the Southern Province where they have to travel longer distances to Tamil medium schools that are few and far between. The socio-economic situation in the Southern Province, with even less formal employment in the plantations and irregular contract work, including in out-grower cultivation, leads to deterioration of children’s education over-determined by the economic and social situation of these dispersed communities.

On the broader challenges facing the Hill Country community, the struggle for land rights and sustainable livelihoods have to be linked to educational advancement. It is access to land that can strengthen food security, alternative income streams and a decent home environment for children’s education. This has been a challenge for subaltern communities around the world. In fact, MST, the Landless Workers Movement in Brazil, has an extensive educational programme, which also aims to strengthen and support land struggles. In many such countries land struggles succeeded, not because of top down land reform by the state, but due to the struggles of the people, including by squatting and actively capturing land. The strength of MST was to establish schools in those settlements and get families involved in both education and livelihoods. The challenge in the Hill Country now is to connect the free education system to the struggle for land rights.

The large army of Hill Country Tamil teachers have the capacity to transform their communities, but there is also the risk of bureaucratisation through our state education system. Given the social and economic status of teachers, there is the possibility of teachers becoming a class unto themselves, where they end up living in urban areas and becoming distant from the working people of their communities. This is where the participation of teachers in the struggles for land and housing and remaining part of the body politic of the community becomes crucial. The challenge before younger generations of teachers and researchers in the Hill Country is one of breaking the barriers of formal education and the walls of schools to open them up to the struggles for land, homes and livelihoods. The activism and signs of such progressive changes in education transforming the Hill Country can be an inspiration for us around the country to reshape free education in the country as a whole.

Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna

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

by Ahilan Kadirgamar