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‘Thomia’: Richard Simon’s Masterpiece

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St Thomas’s College Mt Lavinia

Reviewed by Rohan Pethiyagoda

As schools go, St Thomas’s College Mt Lavinia has, since its inception in 1851, had a disproportionate influence on the affairs of Sri Lanka. In ways both good and bad, it created the modern incarnation of this country. After all, four of our first five prime ministers were Thomians (‘Thomian’, by the way, is a Latin diminutive of Thomas, like Tom in English).

The passage of almost 175 years more than justifies a book on the history of the school. Most such histories, however, tell the story of the school through the lives of visionary founders, eminent principals, and illustrious past pupils. That’s if the author is someone other than Richard Simon. His ‘Thomia’ is a magisterial account of the social and political evolution of Sri Lanka from the early British period to the turn of the 21st century. Into this is woven the story of the school, from its modest beginnings in Mutwal to the national institution it has become today.

Such a narrative in the hands of a competent historian could be guaranteed to produce a compelling read. In the hands of the master storyteller that Simon is, however, it results in a masterpiece. Regardless of which school you attended, if you’re at all curious to know how Sri Lanka came to be what it is, why we turned one way or the other at each of those fateful bifurcations of history, this is the book for you. Having read the first volume prior to publication, I now find that I simply cannot put down the second, save for my aching arms: the thing weighs almost five kg, something you need to bear in mind if planning to ferry copies to friends overseas.

Younger readers brought up on rose-tinted history textbooks that venerate the nation’s founding fathers might find Simon excessively unforgiving of their sins. After all, post-Independent Ceylon was born with a silver spoon in its mouth. And then, in just one decade, those venerated founding fathers laid waste to it all. The ‘hartal’ of 1953 sent a clear message to future governments that Ceylonese were determined to live beyond their means: that there is, after all, such a thing as a free lunch. Then came the anti-Tamil pogrom of 1958, followed by Bandaranaike’s assassination the following year. That first disastrous decade also saw, in 1956, Sinhala being entrenched by law as the sole official language, effectively marginalizing Tamil and undermining English, the lingua franca. Add to that the economic malaise that plagued this country since Independence, caused entirely by political bungling, and the scene for the consequent tragedy is set.

Worst of Times

The air of nostalgic despair hidden beneath the acerbic wit that enlivens the book’s pages perhaps reflects the fact that Simon himself attended St Thomas’s at the worst of times. He warmed the benches of the Lower Fourth during the winter of the nation’s discontent. In 1966, Dudley Senanayake had decreed that we be the only country in the world to shun the seven-day week and adopt the lunar calendar instead. Well, how did that go? One consequence was, as Simon points out, Sri Lanka exported less in 1968 than in 1958. To hasten the sinking of the ship, also in 1968, Senanayake abolished English as a language of instruction in schools across the country.

Then came Sirimavo, ushering in an era of destitution, with everything from rice to cloth being rationed, businesses nationalized, homes confiscated, personal assets capriciously seized, and ceilings placed on incomes and dividends. The ‘standardization’ of GCE Advanced Level marks in 1971, whereby to enter university Tamil students were required to score around 10 percent more than their Sinhalese counterparts, signalled the first shots of the civil war to come. The first JVP insurgency saw the derailment of a generation and the slaughter of thousands of youths. The victims included KDK Perera, a Thomian schoolboy who disappeared en route to his parents’ home in Diyatalawa when schools were closed following the imposition of emergency rule. The liquidation of Richard de Zoysa (to whom Simon dedicates ‘Thomia’), this time by the UNP, would come two decades later. So bad did things become by 1973 that the lawn of the school’s revered quadrangle had to be uprooted and replaced with manioc to feed the boys.

Renaissance

It was only in the fourth post-Independence decade that the renaissance finally began. Today, St Thomas’s is without a doubt the jewel in Sri Lanka’s educational crown. Its manicured lawns, curtained dormitories and sparkling toilets give no hint of privations past. The students too, have a spring in their step. They ooze confidence: no limp handshakes, no averting their gaze when they chance upon a stranger. Basking in a rare cricketing win against a school three times their size, this week saw them standing taller still.

To some, all this might smack of privilege. That, it is anything but. As Simon consistently emphasizes, though perhaps not in these words, the values the school seeks to inculcate in its pupils are thrift, modesty and egalitarianism. No-one cares who your father is, or how you travel to school. As important is the fact that despite being part of the Church of Ceylon establishment, the school is remarkably secular, with Tamils, Moors, Burghers, Malays and Sinhalese mixing effortlessly with one another. This ‘colour-blindness’ is something that distinguishes even adult Thomians. If SWRD had to fake being a Sinhala Buddhist supremacist bigot to win votes, he did that on his own time.

Labour of Love

In ‘Thomia’, Simon presents a masterly analysis of Sri Lanka through the colonial and postcolonial periods: colonialism versus nationalism, Christianity versus Buddhism, Sinhalese versus Tamil. The text is livened by his sometimes-sardonic wit, highlighting the political blunders that put us in our present predicament. His text is impressively well-researched, citing hundreds of references to substantiate its claims. To write a history of the school would have been easy: after all, there’s a wealth of documentation. But to have set it into the context of Sri Lanka as it evolved through almost two centuries, to write the biographies of luminaries long dead, is a monumental task. And it is a task that, in this labour of love, the author has executed to perfection.

Simon tells the story of STC and Sri Lanka without ever seeking to glorify the school’s alumni. After all, those first five Thomian prime ministers were abject failures (my words, not his). Born into privilege and nurtured in the arts of liberal-democratic governance since 1932 by the British, they seemed to have learned nothing. As soon as they got their hands on power, their single-minded quest was for the lowest common denominator.

Being Sri Lankan Thomia

’s heft is commensurate with its vast scope. The book’s two volumes run to almost 1,000 pages. There are no illustrations to clutter the text, no photos of neatly-serried schoolboys in blue shorts, no portraits of famous alumni. Thomia is a monumental contribution to the historiography of Sri Lanka. Every Thomian worth his salt should buy a copy, and the rest should make arrangements to purloin one. This is not a book to read on the bus. This is a book that will help you, regardless of where you were schooled, to understand how Sri Lanka came to be what it is today.

Refreshingly, Simon’s command of English is excellent, as is his narrative style. I cannot think of a more readable Sri Lankan historical text, notwithstanding the high bar set by the likes of KM de Silva, Nira Wickramasinghe and Kumari Jayawardena. Sticklers for tradition might start from their seats at his addition of a possessive ‘s’ to the school’s name: St Thomas’s, rather than the standard St Thomas’. My only (minor) grievance is that the indexes omit many names mentioned in the text. Then again, to do justice to a text so rich in material, a comprehensive index might add another 50 pages to a book that is already a veritable thonker.

Thomia

is not a book written just for Thomians: it is a book for everyone who thinks seriously about what it means to be Sri Lankan. If you are numbered among that vanishingly rare community of Thomians who, educated largely in absentia, find themselves unable to read, you ought to buy one for the same reason people buy Patek Philippe watches: You never actually own your copy. You merely look after it for the next generation.



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Features

Relief without recovery

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A US airstrike on an Iranian oil storage facility

The escalating conflict in the Middle East is of such magnitude, with loss of life, destruction of cities, and global energy shortages, that it is diverting attention worldwide and in Sri Lanka, from other serious problems. Barely four months ago Sri Lanka experienced a cyclone of epic proportions that caused torrential rains, accompanied by floods and landslides. The immediate displacement exceeded one million people, though the number of deaths was about 640, with around 200 others reported missing. The visual images of entire towns and villages being inundated, with some swept away by floodwaters, evoked an overwhelming humanitarian response from the general population.

When the crisis of displacement was at its height there was a concerted public response. People set up emergency kitchens and volunteer clean up teams fanned out to make flooded homes inhabitable again. Religious institutions, civil society organisations and local communities worked together to assist the displaced. For a brief period the country witnessed a powerful demonstration of social solidarity. The scale of the devastation prompted the government to offer generous aid packages. These included assistance for the rebuilding of damaged houses, support for building new houses, grants for clean up operations and rent payments to displaced families. Welfare centres were also set up for those unable to find temporary housing.

The government also appointed a Presidential Task Force to lead post-cyclone rebuilding efforts. The mandate of the Task Force is to coordinate post-disaster response mechanisms, streamline institutional efforts and ensure the effective implementation of rebuilding programmes in the aftermath of the cyclone. The body comprises a high-level team, led by the Prime Minister, and including cabinet ministers, deputy ministers, provincial-level officials, senior public servants, representing key state institutions, and civil society representatives. It was envisaged that the Task Force would function as the central coordinating authority, working with government agencies and other stakeholders to accelerate recovery initiatives and restore essential services in affected regions.

Demotivated Service

However, four months later a visit to one of the worst of the cyclone affected areas to meet with affected families from five villages revealed that they remained stranded and in a state of limbo. Most of these people had suffered terribly from the cyclone. Some had lost their homes. A few had lost family members. Many had been informed that the land on which they lived had become unsafe and that they would need to relocate. Most of them had received the promised money for clean up and some had received rent payments for two months. However, little had happened beyond this. The longer term process of rebuilding houses, securing land and restoring livelihoods has barely begun. As a result, families who had already endured the trauma of disaster, now face prolonged uncertainty about their future. It seems that once again the promises made by the political leadership has not reached the ground.

A government officer explained that the public service was highly demotivated. According to him, many officials felt that they had too much work piled upon them with too little resources to do much about it. They also believed that they were underpaid for the work they were expected to carry out. In fact, there had even been a call by public officials specially assigned to cyclone relief work to go on strike due to complaints about their conditions of work. This government official appreciated the government leadership’s commitment to non corruption. But he noted the irony that this had also contributed to a demotivation of the public service. This was on the unjustifiable basis that approving and implementing projects more quickly requires an incentive system.

Whether or not this explanation fully captures the situation, it points to an issue that the government needs to address. Disaster recovery requires a proactive public administration. Officials need to reach out to affected communities, provide clear information and help them navigate the complex procedures required to access assistance. At the consultation with cyclone victims this was precisely the concern that people raised. They said that government officers were not proactive in reaching out to them. Many felt they had little engagement with the state and that the government officers did not come to them. This suggests that the government system at the community level could be supported by non-governmental organisations that have the capacity and experience of working with communities at the grassroots.

In situations such as this the government needs to think about ways of motivating public officials to do more rather than less. It needs to identify legitimate incentives that reward initiative and performance. These could include special allowances for those working in disaster affected areas, recognition and promotion for officers who successfully complete relief and reconstruction work, and the provision of additional staff and logistical support so that the workload is manageable. Clear targets and deadlines, with support from the non-governmental sector, can also encourage officials to act more proactively. When government officers feel supported and recognised for the extra effort required, they are more likely to engage actively with affected communities and ensure that assistance reaches those who need it most.

Political Solutions

Under the prevailing circumstances, however, the cyclone victims do not know what to do. The government needs to act on this without further delay. Government policy states that families can receive financial assistance of up to Rs 5 million to build new houses if they have identified the land on which they wish to build. But there is little freehold land available in many of the affected areas. As a result, people cannot show government officials the land they plan to buy and, therefore, cannot access the government’s promised funds. The government needs to address this issue by providing a list of available places for resettlement, both within and outside the area they live in. However, another finding at the meeting was that many cyclone victims whose lands have been declared unsafe do not wish to leave them. Even those who have been told that their land is unstable feel more comfortable remaining where they have lived for many years. Relocating to an unfamiliar area is not an easy decision.

Another problem the victims face is the difficulty of obtaining the documents necessary to receive compensation. Families with missing members cannot prove that their loved ones are no longer alive. Without official confirmation they cannot access property rights or benefits that would normally pass to surviving family members. These are problems that Sri Lanka has faced before in the context of the three decade long internal war. It has set up new legal mechanisms such as the provision of certificates of absence validated by the Office on Missing Persons (OMP) in place of death certificates when individuals remain missing for long periods. The government also needs to be sensitive to the fact that people who are farmers cannot be settled anywhere. Farming is not possible in every location. Access to suitable land and water is essential if farmers are to rebuild their livelihoods. Relocation programmes that fail to take these realities into account risk creating new psychological and economic hardships.

The message from the consultation with cyclone victims is that the government needs to talk more and engage more directly with affected communities. At the same time the political leadership at the highest levels need to resolve the problems that government officers on the ground cannot solve. Issues relating to land availability, legal documentation and livelihood restoration require policy decisions at higher levels. The challenge to the government to address these issues in the context of the Iran war and possible global catastrophe will require a special commitment. Demonstrating that Sri Lanka is a society that considers the wellbeing of all its citizens to be a priority will require not only financial assistance but also a motivated public service and proactive political leadership that reaches out to those still waiting to rebuild their lives.

 

by Jehan Perera

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Supporting Victims: The missing link in combating ragging

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A recent panel discussion at the University of Peradeniya examined the implications of the Supreme Court’s judgement on ragging, in which the Court recognised that preventing ragging requires not only criminal penalties imposed after an incident occurs but also systems and processes within universities that enable victims to speak up and receive support. Bringing together perspectives from law, university administration, psychology and students, the discussion sought to understand why ragging continues to persist in Sri Lankan universities despite the existence of legal prohibitions. While the discussion covered legal and institutional dimensions, one theme emerged clearly: addressing ragging requires more than laws and disciplinary rules. It requires institutions that are capable of supporting victims.

Sri Lanka enacted the Prohibition of Ragging and Other Forms of Violence in Educational Institutions Act No. 20 of 1998 following several tragic incidents in universities, during the 1990s. Among the most widely remembered is the death of engineering student S. Varapragash at the University of Peradeniya in 1997. Incidents such as this shocked the country and revealed the consequences of allowing violent forms of student hierarchy to persist. The 1998 Act marked an important legal intervention by recognising ragging as a criminal offence. The law introduced severe penalties for individuals found guilty of engaging in ragging or other forms of violence in educational institutions, including fines and imprisonment.

Despite the existence of this law for nearly three decades, prosecutions under the Act have been extremely rare. Incidents continue to surface across universities although most are not reported. The incidents that do reach university administrations are dealt with internally through disciplinary procedures rather than through the criminal justice system. This suggests that the problem does not lie solely in the absence of legal provisions but also in the ability of victims to come forward and pursue complaints.

The tragic reminders; the cases of Varapragash and Pasindu Hirushan

Varapragash, a first-year engineering student at the University of Peradeniya, was forced by senior students to perform extreme physical exercises as part of ragging, resulting in severe internal injuries and acute renal failure that ultimately led to his death. In 2022, the courts upheld the conviction of one of the perpetrators for abduction and murder. The case illustrates not only the brutality of ragging but also how long and difficult the path to justice can be for victims and their families. Even when victims speak about their experiences, they may not always disclose the full extent of what they have endured. In the case of Varapragash, the judgement records that the victim told his father that he was asked to do dips and sit-ups. Varapragash’s father had testified that it appeared his son was not revealing the exact details of what he had to endure due to shame.

More than two decades after the death of Varapragash, the tragedy of ragging continues. The 2025 Supreme Court judgement arose from the case of Pasindu Hirushan, a 21-year-old student of the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, who sustained devastating head injuries at a fresher’s party, in March 2020, after a tyre sent down the stairs by senior students struck him. He became immobile, was placed on life support, and returned home only months later. If the Varapragash case exposed the deadly consequences of ragging in the 1990s, the Pasindu Hirushan case demonstrates that universities are still failing to prevent serious violence, decades after the enactment of the 1998 Act. It was against this background of continuing institutional failure that the Supreme Court issued its Orders of Court in 2025. Among the key mechanisms emphasised by the judgement is the establishment of Victim Support Committees within universities.

Why do victims need support?

Ragging in universities can take many forms, including verbal humiliation, physical abuse, emotional intimidation and, in some instances, sexual harassment. While all forms of ragging can have serious consequences, incidents involving sexual harassment often present additional barriers for victims who wish to come forward. Victims may hesitate to complain due to weak institutional mechanisms, fear of retaliation, or uncertainty about whether their experiences will be taken seriously. In many cases, those who speak out are confronted with questions that shift attention away from the alleged misconduct and onto their own behaviour: why did s/he continue the conversation?; why did s/he not simply disengage, if the harassment occurred as claimed?; why did s/he remain in the environment?; or did his/her actions somehow encourage the accused’s behaviour? Such responses illustrate how easily victims can be subjected to a second layer of scrutiny when they attempt to report incidents. When individuals anticipate disbelief, minimisation or blame, silence may appear safer than disclosure. In such circumstances, the presence of a trusted institutional body, capable of providing guidance, protection and support, become critically important, highlighting the need for effective Victim Support Committees within universities.

What Victim Support Committees must do

As expected by the Supreme Court, an effective Victim Support Committee should function as a trusted institutional mechanism that places the safety and dignity of victims at the centre of its work. The committee must provide a safe and confidential point of contact through which victims can report incidents of ragging without fear of intimidation or retaliation. It should assist victims in understanding and pursuing available complaint procedures, while also ensuring their immediate protection where there is a risk of continued harassment. Recognising the psychological harm ragging may cause, the committee should facilitate access to counselling and emotional support services. At a practical level, it should also help victims document incidents, record statements, and preserve evidence that may be necessary for disciplinary or legal proceedings. The committee must coordinate with university authorities to ensure that complaints are addressed promptly and responsibly, while maintaining strict confidentiality to protect the identity and well-being of those who come forward. Beyond responding to individual cases, Victim Support Committees should also contribute to broader awareness and prevention efforts, within universities, helping to create an environment where ragging is actively discouraged and students feel safe to report incidents. Without such support, the process of pursuing justice can become overwhelming for individuals who are already dealing with the emotional impact of abuse.

Making Victim Support Committees work

According to the Orders of Court, these committees should include representatives from the academic and non-academic staff, a qualified counsellor and/or clinical psychologist, an independent person, from outside the institution, with experience in law enforcement, health, or social services, and not more than three final-year students, with unblemished academic and disciplinary records, appointed for fixed terms. Further, universities must ensure that committees consist of individuals who possess both expertise and genuine commitment in areas such as student welfare, psychology, gender studies, human rights and law enforcement, in line with the spirit of the Supreme Court’s directions, rather than consisting largely of ex officio positions. If treated as routine administrative positions, rather than responsibilities requiring specialised knowledge, sensitivity and empathy, these committees risk becoming symbolic rather than functional.

Greater transparency in the appointment process could strengthen the credibility of these committees. Universities could invite expressions of interest from individuals with relevant expertise and demonstrated commitment to supporting victims. Such an approach would help ensure that the committees benefit from the knowledge and dedication of those best equipped to fulfil this role.

The Supreme Court judgement also introduces an important safeguard by giving the University Grants Commission (UGC) the authority to appoint members to university-level Victim Support Committees. If exercised with integrity, this provision could help ensure that these committees operate with greater independence. It may also help address a challenge that sometimes arises within institutions, where individuals, with relevant expertise, or strong commitment to addressing issues, such as violence, harassment or student welfare, may not always be included in institutional mechanisms due to internal administrative preferences. External oversight by the UGC could, therefore, create opportunities for such individuals to contribute meaningfully to Victim Support Committees and strengthen their effectiveness.

Ultimately, the success of the recent judgement will depend not only on the directives it issued, the number of committees universities establish, or the number of meetings they convene, or other box-checking exercises, but on how sincerely those directives are implemented and the trust these committees inspire among students and staff. Laws can prohibit ragging, but they cannot by themselves create environments in which victims feel safe to speak. That responsibility lies with institutions. When universities create systems that listen to victims, support them and treat their experiences with seriousness, universities will become places where dignity and learning can coexist.

(Udari Abeyasinghe is attached to the Department of Oral Pathology 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 Udari Abeyasinghe

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Big scene … in the Seychelles

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Mirage: Off to the Seychelles for fifth time

Several of our artistes do venture out on foreign assignments but, I’m told, most of their performances are mainly for the Sri Lankans based abroad.

However, the group Mirage is doing it differently and they are now in great demand in the Seychelles.

Guests patronising the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, in the Seychelles, is made up of a wide variety of nationalities, including Russians, Chinese, French and Germans, and they all enjoy the music dished out by Mirage, and that is precisely why they are off to the Seychelles … for the fifth time!

The band is scheduled to leave this month and will be back after three weeks, but their journey to the Seychelles will continue, with two more assignments lined up for 2026.

In August it’s a four-week contract, and in December another four-week contract that will take in the festive celebrations … Christmas and the New Year.

Donald’s birthday
celebrations

According to reports coming my way, it is a happening scene at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant, Niva Labriz Resort, whenever Mirage is featured, and the band has even adjusted its repertoire to include local and African songs.

They work three hours per day and six days per week at the Lo Brizan pub/restaurant.

Donald Pieries:
Leader, vocalist,
drummer

Led by vocalist and drummer Donald Pieries, many say it is his

musical talents and leadership that have contributed to the band’s success.

Donald, who celebrated his birthday on 07 March, at the Irish Pub, has been with the group through various lineup changes and is known for his strong vocals.

He leads a very talented and versatile line up, with Sudham (bass/vocals), Gayan (lead guitar/vocals), Danu (female vocalist) and Toosha (keyboards/vocals).

Mirage performs regularly at venues like the Irish Pub in Colombo and also at Food Harbour, Port City.

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