Features
Writing a Sunday Column for the Island in the Sun
For nearly twenty years I have been writing a column for the Sunday Island. It has been a joyous ride for someone who is not a professional journalist, yet enjoying the thrill and enthusiasm of being a “deadline artist”, in however small a way. The ride began shortly after the 2005 presidential election when Rohan Edirisinha arranged for Kumar David and me to write for the Sunday Observer where Rajpal Abeynaike had just become the editor. Almost an year later, when Rajpal left the Sunday Observer, Vijaya Kumar, the Peradeniya Professor of Chemistry, arranged for us to switch to the Sunday Island where Manik de Silva was, and still is, editor.
After nearly sixty years in journalism, Manik still finds a different spark for each Sunday’s paper. He had been doing it weekly just as Prabath Sahabandu does it daily at The Island. They both have been very courteous and kind people to write for – especially for someone like me with a penchant for keep pushing the deadline until I make the final delivery. Besides Manik and Prabath, I have also had the pleasure of being tolerated by Malinda Seneviratne whenever he used to step in while Manik was away.
If a week is a long time in politics, as Harold Wilson prime-ministerially opined so many long decades ago, twenty years are an eternity in everything. And with Donald Trump everyday can be an eternity. Whether privileged or cursed, I have obliged myself to bear weekly witness to: the storied arrival and the humiliating departure of the Rajapaksas in Sri Lanka; the virtual demise of the once mighty Congress and the enthronement of its a-secular nemesis – the RSS – under Narendra Modi and the BJP in India; the perpetual swings between calm and chaos in Pakistan and Bangladesh; the post Brexit emaciation of Europe and Britain; three papal changes in Vatican; Jacinda Ardern’s graceful assertion of feminist motherhood power in national politics in little New Zealand; and the growingly disgraceful assertion of vulgar political masculinity by Donald Trump in the mighty United States of America, after the ephemeron of Barack Obama had fleetingly come and gone. Not to mention the rape of Gaza by the Netanyahu government in Israel, and Putin’s bloody Ukraine mockery of the already tattered legacy of the Soviet Union.
Besides politics, or rather both as part and extension of politics, the 21st century is becoming the century of climate change marked by recurrent furies of nature; of cultural upheavals; and technological leaps into the uncertain. As the years roll by, we lose our companions in the many marches we make in life, and I have had more than my share of writing obituaries for personal friends and political figures. Among the many, I especially remember my two Peradeniya friends – Sivendran and Lakshman Tilakaratne, and post Peradeniya companions – Paul Caspersz, Upali Cooray, Silan Kadirgamar and Kumar David. The latter three and me were pioneers of the Movement for Inter-Racial Justice and Equality (MIRJE) and its activities in late 1970s and 1980s.
Kumar was also a fellow columnist in the Sunday Island, equally pedagogical and polemical. He passed away in October 2024, when I was in Prague with my wife, Amali. Uvindu Kurukulasuriya tracked me down to give me the news. The next day, Friday early morning, we were leaving for Berlin by train, and I wrote my appreciation of Kumar on my laptop, during the four hours between Prague and Berlin, and finished it on time to meet my deadline with Manik in Colombo.
In light of that effort, I would think that the good reader will understand my desire to share the gratification I felt when I later came across the generous editorial note by Michael Roberts, while republishing my appreciation in his (Thuppahi’s) Blog: “This is a comprehensive VALE — wide-ranging, balanced and cast in incisive prose. Like the subject of discussion — the one and only Kumar — it marks the quality of education in all branches of education in old Ceylon in the mid-20th century.”
A matter of Education
The larger purpose in the citation above is to pay homage to “the quality of education in all branches of education in old Ceylon in the mid-20th century,” of which I am still a living beneficiary. Suffice it to say given the circumstances of my childhood and upbringing, I got exposed to and got hooked on – matters of nationalism, electoral politics and constitutional questions, quite early in life. Obviously, my understanding of them grew over time abetted by experience and aided by deliberate efforts of self-teaching. These were parallel pre-occupations that I kept going along with my studies in the science stream directed towards entering the university for a degree in engineering.
Once in the university I did not shy away from seizing opportunities for externalizing and articulating my evolving sociopolitical positions through writing, in debates and public speaking. I was already known in school as having the flair for writing and speaking in both Tamil and English, and I continued these pursuits at the university. A contemporary medical student who was in the same hall of residence with me in our first year took to describing me as a ‘writer, speaker and a part-time engineering student.’
After university, while pursuing my career in Engineering, I joined the informal school of political journalism run by Hector Abhayavardhana and started writing for the political weekly The Nation that Hector edited. Hector Abhayavardhana was one of the more consummate left intellectuals of South Asia, shaped by nearly two decades of political living in India – both under colonial rule and after post-partition independence. He made a splash among Sri Lankan intellectuals and academics after his return to the island in 1961, and became the theoretician of the United Front politics during the 1960s and 1970s.
The Nation was the English chronicle of that politics, and it is there that Ajith Samaranayake, after leaving Trinity College, sharpened his writing tools before gaining national prominence. It so happened that it was after the funeral of Ajith Samaranayake that Vijaya Kumar apparently confirmed with Manik de Silva, his classmate at Royal College, that Kumar and I could start writing for the Sunday Island. Another interesting side to this is that Manik de Silva is also a nephew of Colvin R de Silva who was not only a frontline LSSP leader but also Sri Lanka’s greatest political rhetorician. Kumar has often blamed me that because of my alleged soft corner for Colvin, I have not been harsh enough in my criticisms of the 1972 constitution.
While I write my columns from Canada , I try to have my feet on the ground in Sri Lanka. I always meet up with Manik during my visits to Sri Lanka and often in the company of a sounding board of people that once included Kumar David and Diana Captain. Diana charmingly told me that she always likes my writing but doesn’t always agree with what I write. The usual regulars are NG (Tanky) Wickremeratne, Tissa Jayatileke, Chandini Tilakaratne, and occasionally Vijaya Kumar whenever he is in Colombo. Tanky even kept us in a room at the Orient Club until we exhaustively discussed a few of the more pressing problems facing Sri Lanka.
At a personal level I have benefited from the trove of insights offered by my sister-in-law Mano Alles, based on her vantage positions in the banking and financial circles. There is no politics without gossips and it is in the hands of the recipient to use them benevolently or malevolently. I have heard from AJ Wilson that NM Perera was known to be a lover of gossip during his salad days, at the LSE, in London. In my case, I am too much of an engineer to let slip personal stories into my narratives, except have them in background for internal validation. These are among the intangibles that make their way even in unseen ways into the making a column both in style and in substance.
Style and Substance
For style, I have benefited along the way from the kindness and learnedness of too many people. I owe my rudiments to my father and to my teachers at St. Anthony’s College, Kayts, and St. Patrick’s College, Jaffna. I have had my dangling participle corrected by Regi Siriwardena, with the nugget that Tolstoy too makes that error in the Russian. Just so you know, Regi knew his Russian, and a handful of other European languages, as well as he knew English. I never made the dangling mistake again, hopefully, and developed a keenness to look for it in the writing of others. Paul Capsersz red circled when I wrote ‘mentioned about’. Kumar would chide me early on as being too ‘effusive’ with my adjectives.
In Canada, I have been asked to use one sentence for no more than one idea. I heard from my daughter’s English teacher about the ‘range of sentences’ she was writing. She was 10 and I was 43, so I practised for a while – deliberately rewriting every other of my sentences to increase the range of them in a paragraph. Small sacrifice compared to Somerset Maugham, who was known for biting his thumb while searching for the fitting word, and not infrequently there was blood in his mouth before the word could arrive in his head.
Regi also used to tell us that we, Sri Lankans/South Asians, can be as good as anybody in expounding theories or writing commentaries in English, but the Achilles Heel of the second language is exposed when describing one’s personal experience or one’s observation of the physical surroundings and events. I have tried to overcome this shortcoming through my lived experience in Canada and interactions with those who write and speak with the license of the first language – more levity and freedom, and less caution and inhibition. I have also used my technical writing as an engineer and freelance writing as a columnist to be mutually informing and influencing.
Journalism as described in textbooks as a craft that marshals the attributes of creativity and enterprise, and is circumscribed by the pressure of deadline. Hence the coinage – deadline artists, in the 2018 HBO Documentary: Breslin and Hamill: Deadline Artists, dedicated to two of New York’s most celebrated tabloid journalists: Jimmy Breslin and Pete Hamill. Deadline and procrastination could be two sides of the same persona coin. The British writer Douglas Adams who is known for the quote “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing noise they make as they go by,” was also notorious for his procrastination as much as he was famous for his sharp wit.
My experience in writing a Sunday column does not involve any running around to gather facts and stories and hurriedly mould them into a story to meet the deadline. Yet the flow of adrenalin is palpable even in the laid back writing of a weekly column. My weekly routine is to look for a theme from among developing stories and then gather the relevant facts and opinions on the selected topic to develop a coherent argument. There is always Trump if there is no other topic.
Particular topics may benefit from premeditated ideas and pre-assembled information which will render a column comprehensive and compelling. Oftentimes, what I think is a good piece may not be liked as such by many readers. At least a partial explanation might be found in what Roland Barthes, the French literary critic, argued in “The Death of the Author” – to give the primacy of interpretation as much to the inclination of the reader as it is given to the intention of the writer.
No one writes a column hoping to change the world solely by the power of writing, although writing can be consequential if there are objective conditions that can bring about a sizable fusion between the writer’s intentions and the readers’ interest. Professional journalism like any other profession is meant to serve a functional purpose and not theatrical goals. Historically, the print medium emerged in Europe, as the Fourth Estate in a country’s realm, to hold to account in the public interest, the powers of the state and of the religious authorities. Reporting news and writing columns and editorials are part of fulfilling the trust to ensure accountability. Journalism is an integral part of the checks and balances of a social system that includes the state and its institutions, the civil society and its organs, and the market system and the private engines of economic growth.
The print medium has also played another historic role in the evolution of national societies. “Reading the morning newspaper is the realist’s morning prayer,” wrote Hegel highlighting the dominant status of the print medium in the 18th and 19th centuries after its beginning in the 17th. Benedict Anderson used this quote to premise his path-breaking thesis that the two main outputs of the print medium – the novel and the newspaper – have been the principal catalysts of the making of modern nations. A third factor is the pilgrimage of state functionaries – the transfer and territorial circulation of state officials, carrying the banner of the nation-state to every corner of its territory.
Sinhala and Tamil literati can relate to the role of the two instruments in the shaping of the language-based political consciousness that emerged in their respective communities in the 20th century, overarching the hitherto caste and kinship based building blocks of their social structures. There was a third and thinly overarching layer provided by the English medium newspapers that linked the island’s three communities, the Sinhalese, the Tamils and the Muslims, and created what Hector Abhayavardhana memorably called “the first anticipation of a Ceylonese Nation.” Alas, the first anticipation was never given a constitutional chance until the 13th Amendment.
As the 21st century gathers momentum, the decline and fall of the print medium is also gathering increased momentum. But the medium is not disappearing totally, and the newspaper part of it has adapted itself to go online to reach readers either in print or in i cloud. But unlike in print where the newspapers enjoyed a certain monopoly of space, they have no such monopoly on the internet where it is primitive competition for commercial recognition. In the social medium, there is no requirement for pre-qualification before “putting pen to paper,” that was once sine qua-non in the print medium. Any Tom, Dick and Harry can write anything in the social medium for any other Tom, Dick and Harry.
There is also no deadline pressure in the social medium, as news can break out concurrently with the story itself, unlike with the print medium that stays frozen between deadlines. The social medium is both invitingly open and compellingly divisive. There is no longer any commanding opinion in print, as it used to be, which will capture and hold the interest of a large segment of the reading public. Instead, the social medium offers a buffet of choices from each according to his biases to satisfy each according to his urges.
As for the morning prayer, the i phone has replaced the newspaper as a 24/7 office of readings – akin to the daily ‘office’, prayer readings, of the catholic priest. But the i phone also includes the newspaper if you are inclined to read it among so many other buffet choices. And as for me, I will continue writing, and leave it to the reader to digest what I have written while pretending dead, à la Barthes, the French essayist and philosopher, until the next Sunday.
by Rajan Philips ✍️
Features
Can the Public Prosecutor ensure the Independence of the Public Prosecution?
When the maritime provinces of Ceylon were under British occupation, colonial rulers adopted the Royal Charter of 1801, under which the office of the Governor was first established and Sir Frederick North was appointed as the first Governor. By the same Charter, the Supreme Court was first established in Ceylon in 1801. The Charter provided for the appointment of the Advocate Fiscal to prosecute criminals charged with grave crimes. The same Charter facilitated the admission of Advocates and Proctors of the Supreme Court. Advocate Fiscal was the Chief Prosecuting Officer on behalf of the Crown.
In 1833, after the Kandyan Provinces were also annexed to the maritime provinces, the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court was extended to the whole island and the Advocate Fiscal continued as the Principal Law officer of the Government. Later on, he was known as the ‘King’s Advocate’ (or ‘Queen’s Advocate’ as the case may be). Later, they introduced two offices as the Queen’s Advocate and the Deputy Queen’s Advocate. They were redesignated as ‘the Attorney General’ and ‘the Solicitor General’ in 1884. Since then, the Attorney General has been the Chief Law Officer as well as Chief Prosecutor of the Government. The evolution of this office has been discussed by Dr. D. F. H. Gunawardhana, J. in the case of H. M. N. Devapriya Vs. Chief Inspector of Police Headquarters (CA (Writ) No. 589/2024 C.A. Minute dated 17.07.2025)
The Office of the Attorney General continued after the adoption of the Ceylon Independence Act. Article 108 of the First Republican Constitution in 1972 also recognised the said office. During the reign of Sirimavo Bandaranaike (1970 -1977) the National State Assembly enacted the Administrative Justice Law No. 44 of 1973, by which the Office of Public Prosecutor was established for the purpose of prosecution in criminal cases.
Thereafter, the National State Assembly enacted the Administrative Justice Law No.44 of 1973 and under section 80-83 thereof, the Director of Public Prosecution was vested with the powers and duties of public prosecution. It functioned until 1978. Since the enactment of the Second Republican Constitution and the re-introduction of the Criminal Procedure Code, the sole power of prosecution has been exercised by the Attorney-General and his Department.
On Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s watch, the offices of the Public Prosecutor and the Bribery Commissioner came under severe criticism as they were not impartial. People lost their confidence in both offices as well as the government.
The situation took a turn for the worse when the then government abolished the Judicial Service Commission and the Public Service Commission and set up the toothless State Services Advisory Board, State Services Disciplinary Board, Judicial Services Advisory Board and Judicial Services Disciplinary Board. Mrs. Bandaranaike’s government came under heavy criticism for politicisation of the judiciary and the public service and it became rapidly unpopular and J. R. Jayewardena won a five-sixths majority in the National State Assembly in 1977.
The main reason for the abolition of the office of Public Prosecutor was its loyalty, partiality and loss of independence and integrity, which is an essential feature of an officer involved in the administration of justice. There were certain shortcomings in the Attorney General’s Department, too, but comparatively fewer. That is why Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe in 2002, enacted the Removal of Public Officer Act No. 5 of 2002 to ensure that the Attorney General cannot be removed without passing an impeachment in Parliament. In other words, the power of removing the Attorney General, previously vested in the Executive, was transferred to the Legislature.
There are significant provisions contained in the 21st Amendment to the Constitution to ensure the independence of the Attorney General. Accordingly, the President is obliged to obtain the approval of the Constitutional Council prior to the appointment of the Attorney General.
It appears that the present government is keen to re-introduce the “Office of Public Prosecutor,” arguing that it will function independently without having any political influence or interference. It must be noted that assuming it is created in good faith, what will be the difference between the Attorney General and Public Prosecutor?
Qualifications for both officers shall be the same, and the appointment of both officers shall be done by the President with prior approval of the Constitutional Council,
Disciplinary control of both officers shall be under the disciplinary code applicable to public servants. (The removal of Public Officer Act No. 5 of 2002.) If a Public Prosecutor is appointed he has to be given the same assurance.
As for the Public Prosecutor, the President will have to appoint a qualified jurist with the approval of the Constitutional Council. In that context, the qualification, the procedure for appointment, disciplinary control and the procedure for removal of the Attorney General and the Public Prosecutor will be identical.
What is the guarantee that a Public Prosecutor will perform independently without any political influence or motivation?
No doubt that the independence of the administrative justice system in this country has to be independent and impartial. For that, there is no need to dismantle the well-established system that existed for 225 years except a brief period from 1973 to 1978.
We need simply one thing to guarantee the independence of the public prosecution in this country. That is, politicians must refrain from interfering with or influencing the Attorney-General and his Department.
We must also take note of the repercussions of the imprudent decisions to be made by the legislature. There was a tug of war that prevailed between the Attorney General’s Department and the Public Prosecutor during the period when both were functioning. The latest example comes from Kenya, where similar dual structures, established in 2013 (before the ODPP Act’s consolidation), led to months of jurisdictional disputes between the Attorney-General and Director of Public Prosecutions.
In Pakistan, after the separation of the Public Prosecutor’s Office from the Attorney-General (under the NAB Ordinance, 1999), the post became an instrument for political vendetta. Multiple NAB Chairmen and Prosecutors-General were removed or pressured to file politically motivated cases – eroding public trust in the justice system.
Introducing another prosecutorial body requires the creation of a new bureaucratic structure, budgetary allocations, rules of procedure and complex coordination with the police and judiciary which also will paralyse ongoing prosecutions.
In Nigeria, the introduction of state-controlled Public Prosecutors, under the Federal Attorney-General, in 1979, caused a decade of confusion, with state prosecutors refusing to pursue federal offences and vice versa. It took a constitutional amendment in 1999 to restore coherence.
Once there is a split, coordination between the two entities (AG and PP) will depend on political alignment rather than legal principle which will set a dangerous precedent.
The experience of the Philippines serves as a cautionary example of how introducing dual prosecutorial structures in the name of independence can in fact dismantle the integrity of the justice system. Following the creation of the Office of the Ombudsman (OMB) alongside the Department of Justice (DOJ), both institutions were vested with overlapping authority to investigate and prosecute corruption, abuse of power, and criminal offences involving public officials. This overlap bred continual jurisdictional conflicts, procedural confusion, and duplication of cases, leading to delays and the frequent dismissal of prosecutions on technical grounds.
The collapse of major cases, such as the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo “ZTE” telecommunications scandal (2007–2016), illustrated how two competing prosecutorial bodies fragmented evidence, contradicted each other’s findings, and ultimately failed to secure convictions. Similarly, during the “Pork Barrel” embezzlement investigations (2013–2018), political rivalry between the Ombudsman and the DOJ led to accusations of selective justice and the dismissal of several corruption cases.
Under President Duterte’s “War on Drugs”, the conflict deepened, the DOJ pursued low-level offenders while the Ombudsman cleared senior officials, producing inconsistent and politically tainted outcomes that eroded public trust and drew international criticism, including from the International Criminal Court. The duplication of roles, political appointments, and absence of clear accountability turned the supposed independence of the Ombudsman into a façade. Instead of strengthening checks and balances, the divided structure weakened prosecutorial coherence, fostered inefficiency, and entrenched politicisation.
The Philippine model proves decisively that independence without unity and depoliticisation is a dangerous illusion and a warning directly applicable to Sri Lanka, where creating a separate Public Prosecutor’s Office, alongside the Attorney-General’s Department, would almost certainly repeat these institutional failures.
by Dr. Wijeyadasa Rajapskshe, President’s Counsel
Features
Enjoy your eureka moment
Although some of us may not be familiar with the eureka moment, it is a sudden, unexpected flash of insight, inspiration or discovery when you realise a solution to a difficult problem or understand a complex concept. Sometimes the eureka moment is known as an ‘Aha! Moment.’ It is often characterised by a feeling of joy and the immediate clear realisation of truth.
Most of us may have experienced such a moment without knowing what to call it. If you look deep into the concept, you will realise that the eureka moment involves suddenness. Strangely, the insight appears abruptly when your mind is relaxed or not directly focussed on a given problem.
The Greek word ‘eureka’ means ‘I have found it.’ This simple word signifies a triumphant finding or a solution to a problem. The whole concept involves your brain forming unexpected new connections between previously unrelated information. Those who have felt it say the experience is usually accompanied by a rush of adrenalin.
Unusual spectacle
The first reported case of eureka moment comes from ancient Greece. The celebrated Greek mathematician Archimedes of Syracuse was perhaps one of the few people who had experienced a eureka moment. He goes down history as a man who ran naked along a busy street repeating the word ‘Eureka.’ The unusual spectacle stopped the rattle of the carts moving along the busy main street of the Sicilian town. The few women who happened to see a naked man running along the street were horrified. Although some people recognised him, others thought that he was an insane person. All of them had to wait till the following day to find out why he ran naked.
According to Hiero, a noted historian, the king of Syracuse had commissioned a goldsmith to make a crown out of pure gold. However, when the crown was delivered the king had suspicions that the goldsmith had mixed base metal with gold in making the crown. The king ordered the renowned mathematician Archimedes to find out whether the goldsmith had actually used inferior metal in making the crown.
Archimedes was puzzled for a few days not knowing how to find whether only pure gold had been used to make the crown. While thinking of the problem he went to the public bath and stood at the edge of a bathtub. Then he lowered himself into the bathtub. All of a sudden he jumped out of the bathtub and started running shouting loudly ‘Eureka! Eureka!’
Experiments
After returning home Archimedes did a few more experiments and realised that any object completely or partially submerged in a fluid (liquid or gas) experienced an upward buoyant force equal to the weight of the fluid it displaced. This force enabled objects to float if they were less dense than the fluid, as it opposed the downward pull of gravity. Thus, he was able to inform the king how much pure gold was there in the crown.
Archimedes’ father Pheidias was a kinsman of King Hiero. While Archimedes was busy with his inventions, the king commissioned him to make weapons of mass destruction to be used in the event of a war with his rivals. Archimedes wanted only a lever and a place on which to rest it. Eventually, the Roman General Marcellus laid siege on Syracuse. Hiero used the new weapons invented by Archimedes and sank many enemy ships in the sea.
Archimedes was not happy with his deadly weapons. In fact, he despised the mechanical contrivance that made him famous. He thought that his weapons of mass destruction were beneath the dignity of pure science. It may be one reason for him not to leave behind any of his writings. Even in the absence of his writings, historians and the scientific community consider him to be a great mathematician. He was perhaps the only ancient mathematician who had contributed anything of real value to the theory of mechanics.
Strange man
Although he was a great mathematician, we know very little about his personal life. According to historians, he was at times a strange man who could not be fathomed easily. Sometimes he had to be taken to the bath by force. While taking a bath he used to draw geometrical designs on the soap buds on his body! Whenever he solved a mathematical problem, he beamed with happiness like a child.
Although Archimedes’
weapons of destruction were able to keep the invading army at bay, Syracuse fell in 212 BC and he too was killed. Even when Syracuse was overrun by the Roman army, Archimedes might have remained nonchalant. He would have been drawing his geometrical figures quite unmindful of his impending fate. Roman General Marcellus was so aggrieved by the death of Archimedes that he bestowed special favours on the relatives of the slain mathematician. However, the human race will never see another Archimedes. Instead it will see more and more hollow men invading every sphere of human activity.
by R.S. Karunaratne
Features
Rebuilding Sri Lanka: 78 Years of Independence and 78 Modules of Reform
“The main theme of this year’s Independence Day is “Rebuilding Sri Lanka,” so spoke President Anura Kumara Dissanayaka as he ceremonially commemorated the island’s 78th independence anniversary. That was also President AKD’s second independence anniversary as President. Rebuilding implies that there was already something built. It is not that the NPP government is starting a new building on a vacant land, or whatever that was built earlier should all be destroyed and discarded.
Indeed, making a swift departure from NPP’s usual habit of denouncing Sri Lanka’s entire post independence history as useless, President AKD conceded that “over the 78 years since independence, we have experienced victories and defeats, successes and failures. We will not hesitate to discard what is harmful, nor will we fear embracing what is good. Therefore, I believe that the responsibility of rebuilding Sri Lanka upon the valuable foundations of the past lies with all of us.”
Within the main theme of rebuilding, the President touched on a number of sub-themes. First among them is the he development of the economy predicated on the country’s natural resources and its human resources. Crucial to economic development is the leveraging of our human resource to be internationally competitive, and to be one that prioritises “knowledge over ignorance, progress over outdated prejudices and unity over division.” Educational reform becomes key in this context and the President reiterated his and his government’s intention to “initiate the most transformative era in our education sector.”
He touched on his pet theme of fighting racism and extremism, and insisted that the government “will not allow division, racism, or extremism and that national unity will be established as the foremost strength in rebuilding Sri Lanka.” He laid emphasis on enabling equality before the law and ensuring the supremacy of the law, which are both necessary and remarkable given the skepticism that is still out there among pundits
Special mention was given to the Central Highlands that have become the site of repeated devastations caused by heavy rainfall, worse than poor drainage and inappropriate construction. Rebuilding in the wake of cyclone Ditwah takes a special meaning for physical development. Nowhere is this more critical than the hill slopes of the Central Highlands. The President touched on all the right buttons and called for environmentally sustainable construction to become “a central responsibility in the ‘Rebuilding Sri Lanka’ initiative.”. Recognizing “strong international cooperation is essential” for the rebuilding initiative, the President stated that his government’s goal is to “establish international relations that strengthen the security of our homeland, enhance the lives of our people and bring recognition to our country on a new level.”
The President also permitted himself some economic plaudits, listing his government’s achievements in 2025, its first year in office. To wit, “the lowest budget deficit since 1977, record-high government revenue after 2006, the largest current account balances in Sri Lanka’s history, the highest tax revenue collected by the Department of Inland Revenue and the sustained maintenance of bank interest rates at a long-term target, demonstrating remarkable economic stability.” He was also careful enough to note that “an economy’s success is not measured by data alone.”
Remember the old Brazilian quip that “the economy is doing well but not the people.” President AKD spoke to the importance of converting “the gains at the top levels of the economy … into improved living standards for every citizen,” and projected “the vision for a renewed Sri Lanka … where the benefits of economic growth flow to all people, creating a nation in which prosperity is shared equitably and inclusively.”
Rhetoric, Reform and Reality
For political rhetoric with more than a touch of authenticity, President AKD has no rival among the current political contenders and prospects. There were pundits and even academics who considered Mahinda Rajapaksa to be the first authentic leadership manifestation of Sinhala nationalism after independence, and that he was the first to repair the rupture between the Sri Lankan state and Sinhala nationalism that was apparently caused by JR Jayewardene and his agreement with India to end the constitutional crisis in Sri Lanka.
To be cynical, the NPP or AKD were not the first to claim that everything before them had been failures and betrayals. And it is not at all cynical to say that the 20-year Rajapaksa era was one in which the politics of Sinhala nationalism objectively served the interests of family bandyism, facilitated corruption, and enabled environmentally and economically unsustainable infrastructure development. The more positive question, however, is to ask the same pundits and academics – how they would view the political authenticity of the current President and the NPP government. Especially in terms of rejecting chauvinism and bigotry and rejuvenating national inclusiveness, eschewing corruption and enabling good governance, and ensuring environmental stewardship and not environmental slaughter.
The challenge to the NPP government is not about that it is different from and better than the Rajapaksa regime, or than any other government this century for that matter. The global, regional and local contexts are vastly different to make any meaningful comparison to the governments of the 20th century. Even the linkages to the JVP of the 1970s and 1980s are becoming tenuous if not increasingly irrelevant in the current context and circumstances. So, the NPP’s real challenge is not about demonstrating that it is something better than anything in the past, but to provide its own road map for governing, indicating milestones that are to be achieved and demonstrating the real steps of progress that the government is making towards each milestone.
There are plenty of critics and commentators who will not miss a beat in picking on the government. Yet there is no oppositional resonance to all the criticisms that are levelled against the government. The reason is not only the political inability of the opposition parties to take a position of advantage against the government on any issue where the government is seen to be vulnerable. The real reason could be that the criticisms against the government are not resonating with the people at large. The general attitude among the people is one of relief that this government is not as corrupt as any government could be and that it is not focused on helping family and friends as past governments have been doing.
While this is a good situation for any government to be in, there is also the risk of the NPP becoming too complacent for its good. The good old Mao’s Red Book quote that “complacency is the enemy of study,” could be extended to be read as the enemy of electoral success as well. In addition, political favouritism can be easily transitioned from the sphere of family and friends to the sphere of party cadres and members. The public will not notice the difference but will only lose its tolerance when stuff hits the fan and the smell becomes odious. It matters little whether the stuff and the smell emanate from family and friends, on the one hand, or party members on the other.
It is also important to keep the party bureaucracy and the government bureaucracy separate. Sri Lanka’s government bureaucracy is as old as modern Sri Lanka. No party bureaucracy can ever supplant it the way it is done in polities where one-party rule is the norm. A prudent approach in Sri Lanka would be for the party bureaucracy to keep its members in check and not let them throw their weight around in government offices. The government bureaucracy in Sri Lanka has many and severe problems but it is not totally dysfunctional as it often made out to be. Making government efficient is important but that should be achieved through internal processes and not by political party hacks.
Besides counterposing rhetoric and reality, the NPP government is also awash in a spate of reforms of its own making. The President spoke of economic reform, educational reform and sustainable development reform. There is also the elephant-in-the-room sized electricity reform. Independence day editorials have alluded to other reforms involving the constitution and the electoral processes. Even broad sociopolitical reforms are seen as needed to engender fundamental attitudinal changes among the people regarding involving both the lofty civic duties and responsibilities, as well as the day to day road habits and showing respect to women and children using public transport.
Education is fundamental to all of this, but I am not suggesting another new module or website linkages for that. Of course, the government has not created 78 reform modules as I say tongue-in-cheek in the title, but there are close to half of them, by my count, in the education reform proposals. The government has its work cut out in furthering its education reform proposals amidst all the criticisms ranged against them. In a different way, it has also to deal with trade union inertia that is stymieing reform efforts in the electricity sector. The government needs to demonstrate that it can not only answer its critics, but also keep its reform proposals positively moving ahead. After 78 years, it should not be too difficult to harness and harmonize – political rhetoric, reform proposals, and the realities of the people.
by Rajan Philips
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