Features
TWO AGELESS AND SPIRITUAL TREES IN THE VILLAGE TANK
Agbo the Tusker, named after nine kings with the same name and presently celebrated as royalty among wild elephants in Sri Lanka, limps as he inches towards the rank grove of Nabada (Vitex leucoxylon) and Kumbuk (Terminalia arjuna) trees seeking shade at the upper section of the Ulagalla tank near Tirappane, in the North Central Province. The much adored and, sadly, injured elephant has chosen this tank and the surrounding area to live alone to escape pestering from macho elephants who stray out from Kalaweva and Mahakanadarawa Forest Reserves.
Hoping to rest, he stops under a large and ailing Nabada tree. Shapeless openings in its midsection show it is hollow. As I shall recount later, according to Sri Lankan history books, a similar tree growing in water at the Doramadalawa tank (Dwaramandalaka in Mahawansa), approximately 20 kilometers north of here, once had royal contact, literally, saving future King Pandukabhaya from certain death when he was still a boyish prince.
I suggest this tree is the Nabada, for no other tree with holes and a tunneled trunk big enough for a boy to hide grows in water in a dry zone tank. The other tree in the grove, the Kumbuk, carries the credentials of being a spiritual tree, as depicted in Buddhist literature.
Unlike the mother of all Sri Lankan trees – the Sri Maha Bodhi Tree (Ficus religiosa) about which written volumes, nothing significant has been recorded about the Nabada and its companion Kumbuk, two large and unassuming trees standing at odd intervals like deformed Doric columns in and around the village tanks, temples of prosperity in the Dry Zone. They also do not possess the pedigree and vanity of showier trees, such as ebony and mahogany in Sri Lanka, or the stately 4,856-year-old Bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah, still surviving in the Eastern California desert. But Nabada and Kumbuk trees are the inseparable violin and the viola in the symphony which I call the part and parcel of the village tank.
The Village Tank is a book of poetry that nurtures fascination and imagination. The two trees in this narrative double this magic by refreshing the equity and appeal surrounding this core asset of the village. As much as it is a repository for lifesaving water for the villagers, the tank hosts an ambiance of beauty rarely surpassed by any other aspect of the village. A part of this setting is the vegetation that abounds in it, both in dry and wet seasons. Nabada and Kumbuk trees lead this parade.
Blood relatives of Nabada and Kumbuk trees grew on the ephemeral stream long before villagers dammed it up, some probably centuries ago, in a process called gambendeema. When the dammed area was inundated, most trees and shrubs trapped in the deluge drowned, leaving their dead branches like skeletons of dinosaurs sticking out in a pond. Nabada and Kumbuk trees, loaded with DNA ready for amphibious life, refused to die and continued to thrive in this new setting.
A Nabada tree will live for hundreds of years. As it grows old, its pith dissolves away, but it still retains enough muscle to hold it standing. A grove of such old and faded trees may give the tank a primitive expression. Some trees refused to move to the water’s edge and remained in the middle like the one Pandukabhaya dived to hide.
They nevertheless hold the Primus position growing on the bund and the tank’s upper reach, called gasgommana or wev-thavulla which are essential ecotones in the larger tank environment. They also grow in the marshy area called kattakaduwa, between paddy fields and homesites called gammedda, and in elangawa, a free-standing forest between two tanks in a cascade of tanks.
Nabada Tree in History
Nabada tree is the ‘elephant in the tank.’ No one notices it out there, right in the open. These trees stand like illustrations of unknown monster animals drawn in ancient maps by medieval cartographers to fill uncharted regions in world. Monsters or not, a verdant mass of green, this tree is there, providing breeding grounds for fish when the tank is full to the brim, and a shady haven for cattle to rest when metallic heat of the unforgiving sun punishes the dusty tank bed during hot months.
The Nabada tree grows in the village tank like an outcast. In a way, it is a good thing. Unlike the Kumbuk tree, which has become a victim of homebuilders who dismantle it to build flavoured steps to reach upstairs rooms, the Nabada tree has never found favor in this convenient therapy in homes or horticulture business in modern times along the borders of expressways.
Genealogic itinerary of these two trees run back in history. Thus, the influence and association of them on villagers’ lives are more pronounced than one thinks. For example, these trees became part of the village nomenclature, showing an instance of interesting footnote in our colonial history.
Until the 19th century, many present-day village tanks had been abandoned, nameless, or derelict. Then, a group of pioneer families looking for a new settlement would descend to such a place and restore the ruined dam through a communal custom called gambendeema.
At the time of entering the details of this project into government records in the early colonial irrigation department, clerks or technical officers, who were mainly Tamils and well-versed in English but less proficient in Sinhala, assigned names to identify these settlements using Tamil words for convenience. These words represented the physical or forestry features found in and around the immediate surroundings of the village. Thus, Nochchikulama, just a kilometer from my village, or Nabadawewa, is an eponym of the Nabada tree. In Tamil, Nochi is Nabada, and Kulam is wewa. Unsurprisingly, even today, Nochchikulama has over a dozen Nabada trees in its tank.
As a side note, as early as 1816, on the Jaffna Peninsula, there were over 600 students enrolled in Wesleyan missionary schools, learning English. Understandably, they got jobs to advance emerging irrigation projects of colonial administration in the Northern Province, which included all the NCP until 1873.
The Sri Lankan chronicle Mahawansa records that Prince Pandukabhaya, who later became the king and ruled Sri Lanka from 307 to 377 BC, was seven years old and in exile in the village of Doramadalawa (Dwaramandalaka in Mahawansa) near Mihintale for fear of being killed by his uncles, who were eyeing the throne in nearby Anuradhapura. One day, while swimming with friends in the village tank, he saw a band of assassins approaching them with swords drawn.
He grabbed his clothes, dived underwater, and headed straight to the hollow section in a tree growing in the water not far from the mankada. He hid there for a while and came out only after the killers had left, thinking that all the boys, including the prince, had been killed, because there were no additional sets of clothes found on the tank bund.
Kumbuk Tree
This tree is a giant, growing over 50 meters tall, supported by a whitish trunk, some of which are about five metres in circumference at their base. A man can easily take cover between its root buttresses.
Around the latter half of the 20th century, when restrictions on harvesting timber in the country began to take effect, carpenters sought alternative sources to supplement their trade. They caught the scent of the Kumbuk tree, and soon the bells of doom for it began to toll, as the phenomenon of timber products harvested from it has become the darlings of carpenters and home builders. The timber of this tree is popular for use in floorboards and treadboards on stairs in multi-story homes. Before the advent of sawmill noise, villagers allowed these trees to mind their own business in the neighborhoods but guarded them with love. Now, they protect them with vigour.
Meanwhile, this tree is a valuable resource for villagers, but not for its timber. They believe the roots of the tree have water-purifying qualities. Before the village had running water, residents did their bathing chores at the naana mankada (bathing ford), where the Kumbuk tree usually provided shade. Women collected drinking water under this tree, which also grew near diya mankada (drinking water ford), located away from the bathing ford. During the dry season, as the water turned to a mustard color, they brought home this water in an earthen pot, rubbed the seeds of the Ingini tree (Strychnos potatorum) on its inner surface, and left it overnight for the muddy residue to settle to the bottom.
The Kumbuk tree is also a popular spot for village children to enjoy fun outings. They climb its lower branches running horizontally over water, and use them as diving platforms. On some days, we sit on a branch of this tree on the edge of the embankment and watch shoals of fish roam around under its shade. A villager hoping to upgrade his dinner menu often comes and sits by this tree, throws a line, and waits for any movement of the floater.
He picked the right place. The tall and partly submerged buttress root system and crevices provide secure nooks for fish to lay eggs and raise their young. Fishermen know that this lure attracts predator fish to hang around under this tree.
The Kumbuk tree invites tranquility and character to the tank and gammedda below the bund. Thus, this tree too became an eponym for some villagers, e.g., Kumbukwewa or Kumbukgate. It also found a niche in Sri Lankan folklore. Henry Parker, an early 20th-century colonial historian and irrigation engineer, heard from villagers the folktale “The Jackal’s Judgment.” A crocodile grabs a man at the foot of the village tank bund. The man then pleads for help from a nearby Kumbuk tree. Without hesitation, the tree tells the crocodile, “Eat him. He cuts the Kumbuk tree branches and takes them home.” The stairs builder, Mr. Carpenter, must read this folktale. If he gets caught in a crocodile’s jaws, the tree might throw out the preamble and say: “Take him home, buddy. It’s your dinner!”
The substantial presence of Nabada and Kumbuk trees on the bund proves that these trees are an integral part of the tank and the village, and are connected to tradition. Contrary to the vile treatment of the Kumbuk tree, it is considered holy in Buddhist culture.
Literature records that two Atawisi Buddhas (28 former Buddhas), Anomadassi and Piyadassi, received enlightenment under a Kumbuk tree. This belief spared it from the axe and adze of man for ages, just like hunters spared the peacock from slaughter because it is venerated as the vehicle of Kataragama Deyyo – Skandha, the guardian deity of Sri Lanka. Thus, at home, each time we walk on the impeccable steps to the upstairs made of Kumbuk planks, we must remind ourselves we are trampling on a sacred tree, and making the village poor with one less tree – both sacrilegious deeds.
Worthy Meeting Place
On the other hand, seeing the Kumbuk trees planted along the roadways is an incredible gift for travelers, and a well-thought-out investment, not for their carpentry potential but for the power of their environmental benefits for years to come.
From its sapling days, I watched the growth of one such linear grove of Kumbuk trees by the side of A9 south of Kekirawa bazaar. Street vendors, who have no seat in the town proper, gather in this grove daily to make a living by hosting a roadside marketplace. A few decades after the trees were introduced, they began to provide a calmer alternative to the hustle and bustle of the nearby town.
Moreover, the Nabada and Kumbuk groves in and around the tank serve as a meeting place for hundreds of aquatic and migratory birds, some of which have adopted it as their permanent or wayside home. During the day, it is their panchayat, the village assembly. They sort out their neighborly affairs and territorial conflicts here. Some work on their tan as you see flocks of black Cormorants do with wings outstretched in the sun while perched atop the canopy after a fishing outing. After nightfall, swarms of fireflies lit up the row of these trees, imitating the blinking bulbs screaming on the pandol carnival on the Wesak city streets.
In the evening, when the darkness creeps in, the Indian Flying Fox bats (Pteropus giganteus) leave the trees for night rounds. On the Nabada and Kumbuk groves by the Nuwara Wewa bund in Anuradhapura, one can hear the pandemonium of screaming birds flying in and joining the fight for room reservations for a good night’s sleep. Those of us who take evening fitness and doctor-advised strolls on the bund, or amorous couples spending the evening away on its embankment have seen the hullabaloo I am writing about.
Whether the tank is full or has gone bone dry, a line of these two trees growing alternately on the botanical horizon along the forest line or along the bund spruces up, adding to the silent grace of the village tank, accentuating a string of diamonds in an empress’s necklace.
Often, when the morning breaks open and the wind dies down, waves in the tank take a recess. Water becomes a sky-blue mirror producing the eternalized reflection of the Kumbuk tree on the edge of the nana mankada. Then, these twins stand ready yearning for a prize-winning photo. I caught that brilliant cadenza of the reflective melody one morning at my village tank. The prosody of that moment was crying to be written. Just staring at that diorama took me to a serene and unclouded moment of reverie.
By Lokubanda Tillakaratne ✍️
Features
Concept of living wage and cost of living
The International Labour Organisation (ILO) now defines a living wage as the wage level necessary for workers and their families to afford a decent standard of living, given national circumstances, for normal hours of work. This standard of living is operationalised through the cost of essential goods and services, typically including food, housing, healthcare, education, transport, and a modest allowance for contingencies and social participation.
In contrast, “cost of living” in economics is a broader price index concept that tracks the overall prices of a representative consumption basket but is not inherently normative about what constitutes decency or dignity.
Living wage methodologies effectively translate a cost-of-living basket, specified for a given family size and living standard, into a monthly income requirement for workers, thereby linking real wages to human development objectives rather than only to market productivity.
Methodologies for computing a living wage
Most contemporary living wage estimates follow a structured “cost of a basic but decent life” approach built around three steps: defining a reference family, costing a normative consumption basket, and converting that cost into a wage per worker.
The Anker methodology, widely used in global supply chains and in Sri Lanka, is a leading example: it defines a model family (e.g., 2 adults and approximately 2–3 children), estimates the cost of a low-cost nutritious diet, adequate housing, and non-food essentials, and then allocates that cost over expected number of full-time workers per family.
Within the Anker framework, the food component is based on locally appropriate diets meeting caloric and nutritional norms, priced using local market surveys and adjusted for waste and home preparation.
Housing costs are derived from standards for minimally acceptable housing (e.g., durable materials, sufficient space, basic services), using rents or imputed rental values from empirical fieldwork. Other essential expenditures, health, education, transport, clothing, and a small margin for unexpected events, are typically estimated as a percentage mark-up over food and housing costs, derived from national household survey data.
Finally, the methodology sets a reference number of workers per family, divides total family living costs by this number to get a net living wage, and then adjusts to a gross living wage by adding payroll taxes and mandatory deductions. Periodic updates are made using consumer price indices (CPIs) to reflect inflation or deflation and, where necessary, new field surveys to capture structural shifts in prices and consumption patterns.
Sri Lanka’s living wage estimates and their link to cost of living (Anker Methodology)
Sri Lanka has been the subject of several living wage studies, notably for the tea estate sector and for urban and rural areas, using the Anker methodology.
In the tea estate sector, an updated 2024 Anker report estimates the cost of a “basic but decent” standard of living for a typical family at about LKR 78,067 per month (approximately USD 260), implying a gross living wage of LKR 48,584 per month (USD 160) and a net, take-home living wage of LKR 44,357.
For urban Sri Lanka, the Anker Living Wage Reference Value was originally set at LKR 84,231 per month in April 2022, corresponding to a net living wage of LKR 77,492 plus social security contributions. After cumulative inflation of about 36.9 percent between April 2022 and June 2025, the updated gross urban living wage is estimated at approximately LKR 115,291 per month (around USD 385), consisting of a net living wage of LKR 106,068 and social security contributions of LKR 9,223
These Sri Lankan figures are explicitly derived from cost-of-living calculations: they incorporate the cost of food, housing, utilities, health, education, and other essentials at local prices and then convert these into wages per adult worker, assuming roughly 1.7–1.8 full-time earners per family. Because living wage estimates are indexed to actual price dynamics, periods of high inflation, as Sri Lanka experienced in 2022–2023, translate almost mechanically into sharp upward revisions in living wages, underlining the tight coupling between living wage levels and the evolving cost of living.
Comparative living wages: Sri Lanka and other countries
Cross-country comparisons require careful normalisation because living wages reflect local prices, family structures, and social norms, but several datasets provide a structured basis for comparison. [asia.floorwage](https://asia.floorwage.org/living-wage/calculating-a-living-wage/)
The Asia Floor Wage Alliance, for example, publishes a regional living wage benchmark expressed in purchasing power parity (PPP) terms, with a 2024 benchmark of 1,750.54 PPP dollars per month converted into local currencies using country-specific PPP exchange rates.
Using this PPP-based approach, the 2024 living wage equivalent for Sri Lanka is estimated at around LKR 158,353 per month, assuming a PPP exchange rate of about 90.5 Sri Lankan rupees per PPP dollar.
This PPP-normalised figure is substantially higher than the Anker 2024–2025 estate-sector and urban living wage estimates in nominal rupees, partly because the Asia Floor Wage benchmark is set to ensure a more harmonised standard across Asian garment-producing economies and uses a single PPP wage target.
These figures indicate that, within this PPP-based framework, Sri Lanka’s living wage in local currency is relatively high compared to countries such as India and Bangladesh, but the comparison reflects both different PPP exchange rates and domestic price structures.
From a cost-of-living perspective, this pattern is consistent with Sri Lanka being a lower-middle-income country with relatively higher prices for some essentials compared with low-income South Asian economies, especially after recent macroeconomic and inflationary shocks.
Global patterns and high-income economies
Global datasets covering more than 200 countries show that typical-family living wage levels, whether calculated in PPP or nominal terms, tend to correlate positively with national income levels, with North America, Western Europe, and Australia displaying the highest living wage values.
In this global distribution, living wages in middle- and low-income regions of Asia, Africa, and Latin America are lower in absolute terms, though the ratio of living wage to median wages or statutory minimum wages can be high, underscoring the gap between decent-work standards and prevailing labour market outcomes.
Interestingly, some studies note that rural living wage estimates can be relatively high in poorer countries because limited infrastructure and service availability raise the cost of accessing a given standard of living, such as safe water, transport, and education.
For Sri Lanka, rural Anker living wage benchmarks similarly reveal the importance of non-food costs, such as transportation to schools, health facilities, and workplaces, in shaping the total family budget, despite lower nominal rents in many rural areas.
Living wage, social policy, and Sri Lanka’s development trajectory
The emerging international consensus around a living wage is rooted in the human rights-based notion of a “decent life” rather than a subsistence minimum or an arbitrarily set statutory floor.
From a social science perspective, incorporating living wage benchmarks into wage-setting institutions, collective bargaining, and social dialogue reorients labour markets toward social reproduction, intergenerational mobility, and social cohesion, rather than merely cost competitiveness.
For Sri Lanka, where recent crises have eroded real wages and increased household vulnerability, living wage estimates such as the Anker urban and estate-sector benchmarks provide an analytically rigorous yardstick for evaluating whether current wage policies and social transfers are adequate relative to the actual cost of a basic but decent life.
Comparisons with regional PPP-based benchmarks like the Asia Floor Wage suggest that, while Sri Lanka’s living wage requirement in local currency is relatively high, the country also faces significant affordability challenges, especially for low-paid workers in export sectors and informal employment, whose earnings often fall short of these normative thresholds.
In policy terms, the living wage framework highlights the need for coordinated approaches that combine wage-setting reforms, inflation-sensitive social protection, and productivity-enhancing investments, so that rising living-cost-consistent wages do not simply translate into inflationary spirals or employment losses.
For empirical research in Sri Lanka, these benchmarks open avenues for micro-level analysis of wage gaps, household coping strategies, gendered labour outcomes, and the distributional effects of macroeconomic adjustment, all anchored to a transparent and internationally recognised living wage methodology.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe. The views and opinions expressed in this article are personal.)
Features
Buddhist philosophy and the path to lasting peace
Echoes of ‘The Walk for Peace’
The international Walk for Peace’ reaching Colombo, joined by a large number of monks and devotees, led by spiritual leader Ven Bhikku Pannakara, with the peace dog ‘Aloka,’ completing the 161 km journey.The walk commenced in Dambulla on April 22 following the main ceremony at the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi in Anuradhapura.Pic by Nishan S.Priyantha
by Ven. Dr. Kirinde Assaji Nayaka Thero
Chief Incumbent, Gangaramaya Temple, Hunupitiya, Colombo
Throughout human history, one of the greatest and most complex challenges has been the establishment of lasting peace and the maintenance of harmonious coexistence. While peace is often understood simply as the absence of war or armed conflict, a deeper, spiritual perspective reveals it as a profound state of social and mental harmony. It is an ideal that must be cultivated within individuals as well as across societies.
Buddhism offers one of the most practical and timeless philosophies of peace. The teachings of the Buddha are rooted in non-violence and the four sublime virtues—loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. Central to this philosophy is the idea that true peace in the world begins with inner peace within the individual. Conflict, the Buddha taught, arises not on battlefields but within the human mind, driven by greed, hatred, and delusion. Without overcoming these negative forces, lasting peace in the external world remains unattainable.
In today’s world, marked by geopolitical tensions, economic competition, and social unrest—this inward approach to peace is more relevant than ever. Despite technological advancement, humanity continues to grapple with violence and division. The Buddha’s teaching points instead to an internal struggle: a battle against anger, jealousy, and ignorance. Rather than weapons of destruction, Buddhism promotes wisdom, compassion, patience, and discipline as the tools to overcome conflict.
The path to peace begins with understanding its causes. Just as muddy water becomes clear when left undisturbed, the human mind achieves clarity and calm when negative emotions are subdued. This principle is reflected in the Buddha’s intervention during a historic dispute between the Sakya and Koliya clans over water, where he reminded them of the greater value of human life, thereby preventing bloodshed.
In a world increasingly threatened by conflict over limited resources and political power, such lessons remain highly relevant. The Buddha also emphasised the principle of moral causation—actions have consequences.
Yadisaṃ vapate bijaṃ tadisaṃ harate phalaṃ
Kalyaāṇakariī kalyaṃ papakariī ca papakaṃ
Pavutthaṃ tata te bijaṃ phalaṃ paccanubhossasiti
“As one sows the seed, so does one reap the fruit.
The doer of good receives good results, and the doer of evil receives evil results.
Dear one, whatever seed you have planted, you will experience the corresponding fruit of it.”
At the heart of Buddhist ethics is respect for life. All beings fear harm and seek happiness, and therefore, violence against others cannot lead to true well-being. This message is particularly significant in an era where the race for power and advanced weaponry continues to overshadow compassion and humanity.
The fundamental moral discipline in Buddhism is respect for life and opposition to harming living beings. The Buddha taught that all beings desire happiness, and fear suffering, and that harming others will not lead to happiness.
Sabbe tasanti dandassa
sabbe bhayanti maccuno
attanam upamam katva
na haneyya na ghataye.
“All tremble at violence; all fear death. Comparing others with oneself, one should neither kill nor cause others to kill.”
Despite technological advancement, the world appears to be moving backwards in terms of compassion and peace. Power-driven politics and the race for advanced weaponry cannot provide lasting solutions. Global leaders, diplomats, and policymakers must urgently recognise the importance of the tolerant, balanced, and non-violent approach taught in Buddhism. Protecting the right to life of all beings, and acting with compassion beyond divisions of race, religion, or politics, is the only true foundation for world peace.
Sri Lanka, as a nation nourished by the essence of Buddhism, has long upheld this principle. The Sri Lankan tradition, rooted in boundless loving-kindness and compassion, strives to uphold human values even amidst the harsh realities of global politics. From the respect shown by King Dutugemunu towards King Elara, to Sri Lanka’s stance at the 1951 San Francisco Peace Conference invoking the words “Hatred is never appeased by hatred,” to recent humanitarian acts in rescuing sailors in distress—these all reflect a single philosophy: valuing human life above all divisions.
The presentation of a “Joint Declaration for Peace” by the Mahanayake Theros at Gangaramaya Temple recently reaffirmed Sri Lanka’s commitment to global peace. Despite global power struggles, Sri Lanka continues to stand as a symbol of compassion and peace, reminding the world that human kindness is more powerful than weapons.
Institutions such as the Gangaramaya Temple have played a vital role in fostering social harmony. Through charitable, educational, and cultural programmes, the temple has encouraged unity across religious and ethnic lines, while also promoting interfaith dialogue and cooperation.
The annual Navam Maha Perahera, organised by the temple, stands as a powerful symbol of national unity, bringing together people from diverse backgrounds in a shared celebration. Similarly, vocational training and educational initiatives have helped empower young people from all communities, strengthening social cohesion.
A recent “Walk for Peace,” led by Venerable Pannakara Thero and supported by the monastic community, further underscored this commitment. More than a physical journey, it represented a spiritual effort to cultivate peace within the human heart and spread a message of compassion to the wider world.
One of the most touching aspects of the event was the participation of a dog named “Aloka,” which accompanied the monks throughout the journey. This simple yet powerful image reflected the Buddhist teaching that all living beings value life and deserve compassion, highlighting the universal nature of peace.
Ultimately, the Buddha’s message remains clear: peace cannot be achieved through hatred or violence. True peace arises from self-discipline, moral conduct, and the cultivation of a pure mind. As the teaching states, avoiding evil, doing good, and purifying one’s mind is the path laid down by the Buddha.
Let us plant the seeds of peace within our hearts and nurture them with loving-kindness. (“Sabba papassa akarananṃ – kusalassa upasampadā – sacitta pariyodapanaṃ – etaṃ Buddhana sasanaṃ”)
In a time when global tensions continue to rise, this timeless message serves as a powerful reminder that lasting peace begins within each individual—and that compassion remains humanity’s greatest strength.
“Devo vassatu kalena – sassa sampatti hetu ca
Pito bhavatu loko ca – rajaā bhavatu dhammiko”
(“May the rains fall at the right time, bringing about abundant harvests.
May the world be joyful and prosperous.
May the ruler be righteous and just.”)
Features
Peace march and promise of reconciliation
The ongoing peace march by a group of international Buddhist monks has captured the sentiment of Sri Lankans in a manner that few public events have done in recent times. It is led by the Vietnamese monk Venerable Thich Pannakara who is associated with a mindfulness movement that has roots in Vietnamese Buddhist practice and actively promoted among diaspora communities in the United States. The peace march by the monks, accompanied by their mascot, the dog Aloka, has generated affection and goodwill within the Buddhist and larger community. It follows earlier peace walks in the United States where monks carried a similar message of mindfulness and compassion across communities but without any government or even media patronage as in Sri Lanka.
This initiative has the potential to unfold into an effort to nurture a culture of peace in Sri Lanka. Such a culture is necessary if the country as the country prepares to move beyond its history of conflict towards a more longlasting reconciliation and a political solution to its ethnic and religious divisions. The government’s support for the peace march can be seen as part of a broader attempt to shape such a culture. The Clean Sri Lanka programme, promoted by the government as a civic responsibility campaign focused on environmental cleanliness, ethical conduct and social discipline, provides a useful framework within which such initiatives can be situated. Its emphasis on collective responsibility and shared public space makes it sit well with the values that peacebuilding requires.
government’s previous plan to promote a culture of peace was on the occasion of “Sri Lanka Day” celebrations which were scheduled to take place on December 12-14 last year but was disrupted by Cyclone Ditwah. The Sri Lanka Day celebrations were to include those talented individuals from each and every community at the district level who had excelled in some field or the other, such as science, business or arts and culture and selected by the District Secretariats in each of the 25 districts. They were to gather in Colombo to engage in cultural performances and community-focused exhibitions. The government’s intention was to build up a discourse around the ideas of unity in diversity as a precursor to addressing the more contentious topics of human rights violations during the war period, and issues of accountability and reparations for wrongs suffered during that dark period.
Positive Response
The invitation to the international monks appears to have emerged from within Buddhist religious networks in Sri Lanka that have long maintained links with the larger international Buddhist community. The strong support extended by leading temples and clergy within the country, including the Buddhists Mahanayakes indicates that this was not an isolated effort but one that resonated with the mainstream Buddhist establishment. Indeed, the involvement of senior Buddhist leaders has been particularly noteworthy. A Joint Declaration for Peace in the world, drawing on Sri Lanka’s own experience, and by the Mahanayakes of all Buddhist Chapters took place in the context of the ongoing peace march at the Gangaramaya Temple in Colombo, with participation from the diplomatic community. The declaration, calling for compassion, dialogue and sustainable peace, reflects an effort by religious leadership to assert a moral voice in favour of coexistence.
The popular response to the peace march has also been striking. Large numbers of people have been gathering along the route, offering flowers, water and support to the monks. Schoolchildren have been lining the roads, and communities from different religious backgrounds extend hospitality. On the way, the monks were hosted by both a Hindu temple and a mosque, where food and refreshments were provided. These acts, though simple, carry a message about the possibility of harmony among Sri Lanka’s diverse communities. It helps to counter the perception that the Buddhist community in Sri Lanka is inherently nationalist and resistant to minority concerns that was shaped during the decades of war and reinforced by political mobilisation that too often exploited ethnic identity.
By way of contrast, the peace march offers a different image. It shows a readiness among ordinary people to embrace values of compassion and coexistence that are deeply embedded in Buddhist teaching. The Metta Sutta, one of the most well-known discourses in Buddhism, calls for boundless goodwill towards all beings. It states that one should cultivate a mind that is “boundless towards all beings, free from hatred and ill will.” This emphasis on universal compassion provides a moral foundation for peace that extends beyond national or ethnic boundaries. The monks themselves emphasised this point repeatedly during the walk. Venerable Thich Pannakara reminded those who gathered that while acts of generosity are commendable, mindfulness in everyday life is even more important. He warned that as people become unmindful, they are more prone to react with anger and hatred, thereby contributing to conflict.
More Initiatives
The presence of political leaders at key moments of the march has emphasised the significance that the government attaches to the event. Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya paid her respects to the peace march monks in Kandy, while President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is expected to do so at the conclusion of the march in Colombo. Such gestures signal an alignment between political authority and moral aspiration, even if the translation of that aspiration into policy remains a work in progress. At the same time, the peace march has not been without its shortcomings. The walk did not engage with the Northern and Eastern parts of the country, regions that were most affected by the war and where the need for reconciliation is most acute. A more inclusive geographic reach would have strengthened the symbolic impact of the initiative.
In addition, the positive impact of the peace march could have been increased if more effort had been taken to coordinate better with other civic and religious groups and include them in the event. Many civil society and religious harmony groups who would have liked to participate in the peace march found themselves unable to do so. There was no place in the programme for them to join. Even government institutions tasked with promoting social cohesion and reconciliation found themselves outside the loop. The Clean Sri Lanka Task Force that organised the peace march may have felt that involving other groups would have made it more complicated to organise the events which have proceeded without problems.
The hope is that the positive energy and goodwill generated by this peace march will not dissipate but will instead inspire further initiatives with the requisite coordination and leadership. The march has generated public discussion, drawn attention to the values of mindfulness and compassion, and created a space in which people can imagine a different future. It has been a special initiative among the many that are needed to build a culture of peace. A culture of peace cannot be imposed from above nor can it emerge overnight. It needs to be nurtured through multiple efforts across society, including education, religious engagement, civic initiatives and political reform. It is within such a culture that the more difficult questions of power sharing, justice and reconciliation can be addressed in a constructive manner.
by Jehan Perera
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News5 days agoNo cyber hack: Fintech expert exposes shocking legacy flaws that led to $2.5 million theft
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News2 days agoBIA drug bust: 25 monks including three masterminds arrested
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Business3 days agoNestlé Lanka Announces Change in Leadership
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News2 days agoBanks alert customers to phishing attacks
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News3 days agoHackers steal $3.2 Mn from Finance Ministry
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News6 days agoUSD 2 mn bribe: CID ordered to arrest Shasheendra R, warrant issued against ex-SriLankan CEO’s wife


