Features
Tuk-tuk tourism truths: Cutting through the lies with honest replies
If tourist safety were the true priority, the campaign against self-drive tuk-tuks would be in favour of the real dangers. Data shows that for visitors to Sri Lanka, walking or riding a motorcycle carries a significantly higher risk than driving a low-speed, enclosed three-wheeler. Therefore, opposing a regulated self-drive model for tourists who are rigorously licensed and hold a valid International Driving Permit (IDP) is irrational. This stance ignores comparative safety data to block a form of tourism that offers profound economic benefits, all while permitting statistically more dangerous activities. There is no justification for obstructing well-trained, IDP-holding tourists when the alternatives we allow are far more hazardous.
Yet this very scene of organic tourism is what a powerful lobby in Sri Lanka seems determined to prevent, based on a narrative not of fact, but of fiction.
The myth, pushed relentlessly by segments of the informal tourism transport sector, is as pervasive as it is unfounded: that allowing tourists to drive tuk-tuks is an inherent safety risk. This claim, echoed in the ears of policymakers, has risked a modern, inclusive, and globally aligned tourism model. The truth, however, tells a different story – one where safety is a shared responsibility requiring holistic solutions, not a ‘weaponised excuse’ to eliminate competition and stifle innovation.
The safety smokescreen: A closer look at the data
Research by Prof. Niranga Amarasingha (2021) : specializing in Transportation Engineering reveals that motorcycles are involved in over half of all road fatalities in Sri Lanka. If safety were truly the concern, motorcycles – not tuk-tuks, which are limited to 40km/h – would be the focus of these attacks. So why, then, is there no lobby to restrict motorcycles?
According to data from the Ministry of Transport, Highways and Urban Development, road fatalities in 2022 comprised 33.2% motorcycles, 31.1% pedestrians, 8.5% bicyclists, 7.3% motor cars and dual-purpose vehicles, 7.3% rear riders, 4.7% lorries, 4.2% three-wheelers, 3.5% buses, and 0.2% other. With around 1.18 million registered three-wheelers compared to 900,000 cars, Sri Lanka has more three-wheelers on the road yet they account for a smaller share of fatalities.
A frequent criticism is that Sri Lanka’s roads are too hazardous for foreign drivers. But the data tell a different story. As Ms. Amarasingha notes, Sri Lanka’s fatality rate in 2013 was about 11 per 100,000, well below the 20.1 per 100,000 average for middle-income countries. In reality, Sri Lanka’s roads are no more dangerous, and in many cases safer than those in Thailand, Indonesian, Vietnam, Malaysia, or South Africa, all of which thrive on self-drive tourism
Are tourists unsafe drivers?
Let’s address the central allegation head-on: are foreign drivers with International Driving Permits (IDPs) a menace on Sri Lankan roads?
The argument collapses under the weight of its own logic. Tourists arriving in Sri Lanka with a valid driving license have already undergone rigorous licensing procedures in their home countries. Nations like the United Kingdom, Germany and Australia have some of the most demanding driving tests in the world, often requiring over 200 hours of supervised practice hours, hazard perception tests, and stringent theory exams. To suggest that a driver licensed in such a system is inherently unqualified is to disregard international standards that Sri Lanka itself benefits from when its citizens drive abroad.
A senior road safety expert, who wished to remain anonymous due to the political sensitivity of the topic put it plainly: “Our road safety problems aren’t caused by tourists; they’re built into the system — weak infrastructure, chaotic traffic flow, and inconsistent rule enforcement. Isolating a few tourist-driven tuk-tuks, a fraction of a fraction of total users and presenting them as the primary safety concern is absurd. It’s not a safety strategy; it’s a smokescreen. A solution searching for a problem.
There is no evidence to indicate that tourists in self-drive tuk-tuks are involved in a disproportionate number of accidents. The ‘dangerous tourist driver’ is a spectre, a convenient phantom invoked to protect a vested interest.
The real agenda: Protectionism masquerading as prudence
Beneath the veneer of safety concerns lies a stark truth: fear of competition. The self-drive model empowers the tourist to choose. It breaks their dependence on pre-arranged, often overpriced, hired vehicles that operate on commissions, funnelling tourists through the same gem shops, spice gardens, tea outlets, and hotel chains. Instead of concentrating profits in a few well-trodden hotspots, self-drive tourism disperses income to rural villages and small businesses along the road less travelled.
This democratisation of travel directly challenges the monopoly held by some informal operators. This is not about safety; it’s about revenue. It’s a classic case of an incumbent industry seeking regulatory protection to shut out a new, consumer-friendly model. More than just a new model, it shuts out a completely new demographic of tourists who wish to enter the country. While the predominant tourist markets that Sri Lanka has attracted over the last two decades have been Russian, Indian and Chinese. The new self-drive market is dominated by tourists from Europe, America and Australia – generating a whole new revenue stream, marketing and advertising for the country. Self-drive tuktuk tourism even features on the Australian edition of the Amazing Race: Celebrity Edition (still being aired).
By lobbying against clear regulations for self-drive tuk-tuks, they are not protecting Sri Lanka’s roads; they are protecting their own profit margins at the cost of Sri Lanka’s overall tourism economy and access to the growing adventure travel market.
The impact of this protectionism is twofold. First, it stifles the growth of a high-value tourism segment that, as SLTDA highlighted, encourages longer stays and disperses spending deep into rural economies. Second, it blocks a revolutionary stream of passive income for thousands of Sri Lankans from women like Marie in Bandarawela to pensioners and micro-entrepreneurs who have found financial stability by renting their humble tuk-tuk asset to this new market.
The question for policymakers is this: should national tourism policy be shaped by the innovative potential of a new model that grows the global Sri Lankan tourism market, benefiting a diverse, often rural cross-section of citizens, or by the protectionist demands of a few?
The high cost of regulatory ambiguity
Sri Lanka’s laws already recognise the International Driving Permit (IDP) as a valid licence for tourists renting and driving tuk-tuks. The problem isn’t the law, it’s the lack of consistent enforcement and communication. Tourists arrive well-informed, having seen the country promoted as an adventure destination and knowing that Sri Lanka is a signatory to the 1949 Geneva Convention on Road Traffic. Yet on arrival, they face contradictory advice at airport counters, confusion among rental companies, and the risk of being stopped by police officers unaware of the law. The result is a damaging disconnect between what the law guarantees and what travellers experience on the ground.
Industry sources indicate that up to 10 such ‘harassment’ incidents are reported across the country each day. In the age of social media, each incident is a potential crisis and damaging to the overall tourism revenue of the country. A tourist blogger with thousands of followers, detained by the roadside over a document that is valid under international law, does not post a story about Sri Lanka’s beautiful beaches. They post a video about bureaucratic inefficiency and a nation that is unwelcoming. This ‘unofficial’ barrier actively undermines the millions spent by Sri Lanka Tourism on global promotional campaigns, creating a damaging dissonance between the brand promise and the on-ground reality.
Conversely, as we have seen with the global exposure from figures like Jonty Rhodes, when the experience is seamless, it generates a torrent of free, authentic, and overwhelmingly positive marketing. So, the choice is between fostering ambassadors or creating critics.
A path forward: Clarity, courage, and modernization
Sri Lanka doesn’t face real barriers to self drive tuk-tuk tourism — only imagined ones. The obstacles are not in safety nor in legalities. They are narratives shaped by fear and protectionism. The truth is simple: self-drive tuk-tuk tourism is legal, safe, empowering, and transformative. It brings income to rural families, connection to travellers, and authenticity to the nation’s tourism story. What’s holding us back isn’t danger — it’s fear. It’s time to cut through the myths, trust the data, and let Sri Lanka move forward freely, fearlessly, and on its own terms. Sri Lanka, with its compact diversity and iconic tuk-tuk, is perfectly poised to be a global leader in experiential travel.
By Calistas Wijesooriya
Features
The Digital Underground
Illegal Foreign Exchange, Undiyal, Hawala and Money Laundering, A Four-Part Investigative Series
Forex Platforms, Cryptocurrency, AI and the New Financial Battlefield
THE INVISIBLE FINANCIAL EMPIRE – PART III
The Boyfriend Who Was Never Real
Priya, a 34-year-old professional in Colombo, met “David” on LinkedIn. He claimed to work in fintech in Singapore. For six weeks they exchanged messages daily, about work, about life, about a recent trip he had taken to the Maldives. Eventually, the conversation turned, gently and naturally, to money.
“I’ve been trading on this platform, let me show you,” he said, sharing a screenshot of a sleek trading dashboard showing consistent, impressive returns.
Priya invested a small amount first, $500. Within days, her dashboard showed it had grown to $650. She withdrew $100 successfully, just to test it. It worked. Encouraged, she invested more. Then more. Over two months, she transferred a total of $42,000 into the platform.
When she tried to withdraw her full balance, the platform demanded a “regulatory release fee” of $8,000 before funds could be unlocked. She paid it. Then another fee appeared. Then the platform stopped responding altogether. “David” vanished. The trading dashboard, the customer support chat, the entire brokerage, all of it had never been real.
This is what investigators now call “pig butchering”, and, in 2026, the most disturbing development is not the scam itself, which has existed for years, but what now powers it: artificial intelligence has industrialised the entire operation.
From Manual Fraud to Machine-Generated Deception
For most of the past decade, romance-and-investment scams, like the one that targeted Priya, required enormous manual labour. Scam operations, many of them staffed by trafficked workers held against their will in compounds across Myanmar, Cambodia, and Laos, needed real humans to build relationships with victims over weeks, manage fake trading platforms, and respond convincingly to questions.
That labour-intensive model has now been substantially automated. According to financial-crime researchers tracking this shift through 2026, threat actors are standing up entire AI-generated “brokerage” experiences end-to-end, complete with KYC onboarding, branded customer-service chat, animated portfolio dashboards, and falsified live market data feeds, and operating them at industrial scale against multiple victims simultaneously. Generative-AI relationship managers now front the WhatsApp and Telegram conversations that once required real human scammers. AI-cloned regulator letters are generated on demand to justify the fake “release fees” that drain victims a final time before the platform disappears.
What has changed is not the deception itself, it is the production economics. The cost of running a credible synthetic brokerage against one additional victim has collapsed, meaning a single criminal network can now run hundreds of “Davids” simultaneously, each one indistinguishable from a genuine fintech professional until it is too late. (Figure 01)

Sri Lanka: From Victim Pool to Operating Base
Sri Lanka’s relationship to this global scam economy has shifted in an alarming direction over the past two years. The country is no longer only a source of victims, it has become an operating base for the criminal networks themselves.
In April, 2026, Sri Lankan police raided a five-star hotel property, in Ambakandavila, and arrested 150 individuals, including 133 Chinese nationals, 13 Vietnamese nationals, and one Malaysian national, allegedly running a cyber fraud centre with links to international criminal syndicates, based in Myanmar and Cambodia. Investigators say the operation followed a now-familiar regional pattern: recruiters advertise “online marketing” or “data entry” jobs on social media to lure foreign workers to Sri Lanka, confiscate their passports on arrival, and force them to operate scam campaigns under threat.
The Central Bank of Sri Lanka has formally flagged pig-butchering scams as a “developing threat,” warning that foreign scam networks are increasingly targeting overseas nationals through scam farms operating from Sri Lankan soil. A 2026 United Nations report estimated that at least 300,000 people have been trafficked into scam centres across Southeast Asia.
This is not an abstract international problem. It is unfolding in hotels and rented properties across the country, exploiting the same infrastructure, high-speed internet, affordable accommodation, accessible tourist visas, that Sri Lanka has built to attract legitimate digital businesses and tourists.
Where the Money Actually Goes: The Stablecoin Pipeline
Behind every successful pig-butchering scam sits a laundering pipeline that has been transformed almost as dramatically as the scams themselves, and the transformation has a single dominant feature: stablecoins.
According to the Financial Action Task Force’s March 2026, report, drawing on analysis from blockchain intelligence firms Chainalysis and TRM Labs, stablecoins accounted for 84% of the USD 154 billion in illicit virtual asset transaction volume recorded in 2025, the highest share ever observed, and a dramatic jump from just 15% only a few years earlier. TRM Labs separately found that illicit entities received USD 141 billion in stablecoins, in 2025 alone, the highest level observed in five years. (See Table 01)

The scale of state-level abuse is striking. A Russian sanctions-evasion network built around the ruble-pegged stablecoin A7A5 processed more than USD 72 billion in total volume in 2025.
Fighting Fire with Fire: AI on the Defensive Side
The same artificial intelligence reshaping financial crime is also, out of necessity, reshaping the defence against it. Legacy anti-money laundering systems, built on static, rule-based thresholds, have proven badly outmatched by AI-generated fraud operating at machine speed. Research cited by compliance technology analysts suggests that between 90% and 95% of alerts generated by legacy AML systems are false positives, consuming enormous investigator time while genuinely suspicious activity slips through.
This is not a frictionless transition. AI models are notoriously difficult to explain to regulators and examiners in the way traditional rule-based systems are. The practical compromise emerging across the industry is a hybrid model: AI handles the initial scoring and prioritisation of risk, while documented rule-based logic still governs the final decision that must be defensible to a regulator.
The Regulatory Response: Catching Up to the Digital Frontier
Regulators worldwide have begun moving to close the most dangerous gaps exposed by this digital transformation of financial crime. (See Table 02)

What Comes Next
We have now traced this investigation from the centuries-old mechanics of Hawala and Undiyal, through the three-stage architecture that turns criminal proceeds into apparently legitimate wealth, to the AI-generated frontier of digital financial crime reshaping all of it at machine speed.
In our concluding instalment, Part IV: “Sri Lanka at the Crossroads: Economic Consequences, Organised Crime and the Road Ahead”, we bring this series home. We examine precisely what all of this costs Sri Lanka in hard economic terms: lost remittances, exchange rate pressure, tax revenue forgone, and the 2026 FATF evaluation that will determine whether the country’s institutions can demonstrate, with evidence rather than legislation alone, that they are equal to this challenge. We close with a practical policy roadmap.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe.
Views expressed in this article are personal.)
Features
‘There are no private universities in Sri Lanka’ – some considerations for higher education reform
Academics involved in education policy like to say that there is no such thing as a private university in Sri Lanka. The only ‘universities’ in the country are state universities; anything else offering degrees is a private higher education institution (HEI). This position is technically accurate. Yet, in the discourse and imagination of the public, private universities are very real – people teach in them, students register in them, families pay fees, and such degree holders enter job markets in Sri Lanka and outside.
For decades, activists concerned for public higher education have ignored or resisted looking at private HEIs, as if such scrutiny would taint them. Others have worked in both types of institutions, carrying practices from each to the other. The apex body governing state universities, the UGC, has, meanwhile, ignored the concept of conflict of interest and appointed individuals in private higher education in committees and leadership positions. It is unsurprising then that some of the ideologies informing private higher education appear in reform agendas in the state sector.
This is a good time then to consider the varying types of private HEIs around us, and to take a look at some of the issues within them in the hope that higher education reform agendas will include private, as well as state higher education.
What is a ‘private university’?
First, some clarifications. In the public imaginary, a ‘private university’ is typically an institution that provides a foreign or local degree for which the student makes a payment. But this broad classification encompasses a host of diverse institutions and types of degrees which I detail below.
The Non-State Higher Education Division (NSHE) of the Ministry of Education has recognised 295 degrees by 32 institutions. Most of these are private companies and include a handful of established, well-known private HEIs that are ‘university like’. The degrees are local degrees conferred by the institutions accredited by the NSHE Division. While private HEIs conferring local degrees must be accredited by the NSHE Division, there appears to be no legal consequence for not doing so. In addition, there are several permutations of the private degree that miss the net of this Division and the Standing Committee on Accreditation and Quality Assurance (SCAQA) that assists this Division.
For one, degrees conferred by foreign universities offered, via these same private HEIs, are not vetted by the NSHE Division. Secondly, there is a growing plethora of private HEIs which have either no physical presence locally or only a dubious presence. The University Grants Commission has notified the public, through their website, that foreign universities listed in the Commonwealth Universities Yearbook and the World Higher Education Database are recognised, but refrained from giving any other details – which degrees? Offered by what modes? These details are not known. Some of the foreign universities in the lists may be legitimate entities in their own land but the degrees conferred locally, in their name, may not adhere to curriculum or teaching specifications of the NSHE Division or the UGC.
Another troubling phenomenon is the ‘top up degree’, which appears to work on the same principle as that of a pre-paid mobile connection: if I have a Diploma or an HND of a sort, I am eligible to complete a course of study which provides me with a degree, usually from a foreign university. The idea that someone who does not initially qualify for a degree programme should be able to work their way towards one is a progressive notion. This is the concept that open and distance learning (ODL) was based on initially, but which is now sadly exploited. ODL models are expected to provide opportunity for learning for those who may be excluded from traditional learning institutions. In Sri Lanka, however, we have seen ODL become a marketplace offering easy to obtain, for-fee qualifications by institutions with little commitment to superior teaching and learning.
Finally, a perusal of the many types of private HEIs and their varied degrees bring to mind another question – how should the private degrees, provided by state institutions (that are not educational institutions), be regulated? Who should do so?
All of these create a host of problems for the public – for hopeful students and parents and trusting employers. For the higher education sector, recruitment of academic staff, too, has become difficult due to this plethora of ambiguous higher education qualifications, as I discussed in a previous Kuppi article (‘Recruiting academics to state universities’).
Some issues in private HEIs – a bellwether for change in state universities
In this second part of this article, I will discuss some aspects of work in private HEIs – albeit the more established institutions – given that such issues may appear in reform agendas in future.
Across state universities, all permanent staff of a specific category are paid according to the same criteria. The picture is not so clear when it comes to private HEIs since they are different entities legally, typically companies. Private HEIs have salary scales and financial incentives that are different to each other. The more established private HEIs reportedly have attractive renumeration packages, possibly a reason for academics of state universities migrating eagerly to such institutions during sabbatical years and on retirement. This may not of course be the case with other less established, or improperly registered HEIs of which we know little. Academic staff of these more accepted private HEIs seem to value the high financial remuneration they receive (in comparison to state universities) as something that makes their work rewarding.
Attractive remuneration is important to sustain the good life and is at times seen as the institution’s way of encouraging good work. Yet, this has implications for the future of the institution: to continue to deliver on promised financial packages, institutions must continue to have large profit margins. One strategy has been to enroll multiple cohorts of students per year, even up to three or four intakes per year. This can result in exploitative work conditions, since staff must cater to all these cohorts in that same year. If there is inadequate staff, employees are further burdened. On the other hand, if there is a sudden drop in enrolments (degrees can go out of fashion) unexpected layoffs occur. Similar to other sectors that employ short-term contract staff – including state universities – in private HEIs, too, individual teachers, who are on short term contracts that need regular renewal, can feel pressured to work under difficult or exploitative conditions.
At the same time, even in the more established private HEIs, work norms differ from those of state universities in that they include promotional work that keeps the institution’s name in the eye of the public. The Marketing (or similarly named) unit comes up in conversations as one of the most important departments. It appears to weigh in on decision-making related to the number of staff, the amount of re-sits per exams, and other pedagogically important matters. This is a worrying example of how financial rationales interfere with pedagogically or academically sound processes, resulting in problematic results in the classroom. On the plus side, junior colleagues, who had experience in both state and private HEIs, also felt that they faced less harassment in private HEIs – primarily due to the private HEIs ability to take swift action in reported cases of harassment. This is a real indictment on state institutions and their reluctance to address chronic issues of harassment in our universities.
Yet, while we hear much about problems in state universities, we hardly hear of problems that staff in private HEIs face. One rationale for a lack of public expressions by staff is that expressions of discontent might lead to trouble given the importance of reputation for private HEIs. The worry about reputational damage is a growing concern in state universities, too, as evidenced by social media policies and internal conversations on reputational damage, consequent to negative publicity. Institutional worries of reputational damage are harmful in the long run since these impact not only freedom of expression by student and staff, but also research that is possible in and about the education sector.
Some thoughts at the end…
A close look at the private higher education sector is important given its strong presence in the country. Impending reform needs to regulate this diverse array of higher education offerings in the private sector, as well as the state institutions that offer privately-funded options of higher education (a topic for a separate Kuppi on its own). It is time we carefully considered how to build a whole system of higher education out of this broken mess.
Kaushalya Perera is a senior lecturer at the University of Colombo.
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Ready for solo spotlight
Singer Nish Peiris is set to take the next big step in her music journey.
The talented vocalist, who has been seen and heard in the scene here for a short while, and was also featured with the now-defunct band, Inner Vision, has announced that she will be fully committing to her solo career, after completing her degree this year.
“I’m finishing my degree this year, and after that I’ll be fully committing to my solo music career,” Nish told The Island.
“I’ve already got a few tours lined up for next year, so I’m really excited for what’s ahead.”
Fans, no doubt, will remember Nish for her smooth voice and stage presence, and the good news is that she is now ready to chart her own path and bring new music to audiences at home and abroad.
With tours already planned for 2027, the year 2026 promises to be an exciting year for the young artiste as she steps into the spotlight on her own.
We wish Nish every success in this new chapter!
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