Professor Mahesh Nirmalan MD, FRCA, PhD, FFICM,
University of Manchester, UK
Sri Lanka, is a nation shaped by paradoxes at every level. In 1819 missionary and future Bishop of Calcutta Reginald Heber captured this paradox in his poem as
“What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile”
Despite the colonial prejudices that are evident in the above words, the verse does capture the paradoxes of Sri Lanka which stand true to this day. The aspersion Heber casts on the native Sri Lankan, can be argued to be true of all human societies in general – divided, tribal, self-centred and potentially capable of extreme violence and cruelty to the ‘other’. As a small island located at the crossroads of major maritime trade routes and regional rivalries it has considerable geopolitical significance disproportionate to its size. It is also a society marked by significant internal divisions - linguistic, religious, and cultural, which boiled over as a 30-year war which influenced its political and developmental trajectories.
In this context, understanding the challenges in governance and sustainable development, requires a vision beyond simple linear economics. The country’s trajectory will clearly be determined by the interaction of geopolitical pressures - regional and beyond, internal fragmentation, development dependency, diaspora dynamics, and the search for sovereign economic pathways. At the heart of these challenges lies a deeper question on whether Sri Lanka can align its diverse identities into a shared national vision sufficient to withstand external pressures from an increasingly contested world.
Sri Lanka’s strategic location in the Indian Ocean has always defined its external reality. Situated along critical maritime routes, it occupies a position of disproportionate importance in global trade and security. This draws Sri Lanka into the gravitational pull of two major powers: India and China which holds the country as a ‘prisoner of geography’. Both powers have - and are willing to deploy, the necessary tools to exacerbate or ameliorate internal differences in order to pull the country in directions that are beneficial to their Regional aspirations. When American interests in curtailing the influence of China in the region are added to the mix, the foreign policy challenges increase exponentially. Sri Lanka must therefore engage with these three powers while fiercely preserving its sovereignty. This external constraint inevitably shapes internal policy choices, linking development decisions to geopolitical considerations.
If geography defines Sri Lanka’s external environment, its internal challenges stem from the country’s post-independence political evolution. The early years of independence offered promise, but this gradually gave way to a majoritarian political model that privileged some segments of society. Policies such as the ‘Sinhala Only Act’ making Sinhala as the sole official language of the country altered the trajectory of the state, marginalising Tamil-speaking communities and embedding identity politics into the socio-political fabric. This marginalisation was aided and abetted by some members of the academic and professional class who went that ‘extra mile’ of denying Tamil language, Tamil culture, Hinduism, Islam and Christianity - integral components of the broader Sri Lankan culture, their due places in the cultural and historical tapestry of the country.
The adoration of Lord Shiva as the lord of Koneswaram (Trincomalee) and Ketheeswaram (Mannar) by the Saivite saints - Sambanthar and Sundarar, from the 7th and 8th centuries AD is well documented. The Sivan Kovils of Pollonaruwa (10-11th century AD) are living symbols of Saivaism in the North Central province. Similarly, the ruins at Thondeswaram temple in Devinuwara (such as the Sivalingam and Nandhi or the Holy Bull), historic records of Royal Grants to the Muneswaram Temple in Chilaw by the kings of Kotte (Parakrama Bahu VI, 15th century) and the repeated reference to Kathirgamam (or Kataragama) by the 14th century poet Arunagirinathar in his compositions (known as Thirupuhal) confirm these sites to be integral to Sri Lankan culture.
Beyond religion, M B Ariyapala’s seminal PhD thesis submitted to the University of London in 1949 clearly refers to the use of musical instruments such as the Veena, Mattalam and Nagachuram (or Nadaswaram) at the royal courts in the 13th century. The archaeological findings such as the stone inscriptions at Lankatillake Viharaya (Figures 1 & 2) and the Galle Trilingual inscription (Figure 4) too clearly demonstrate Tamil culture and language to be integral components of ancient Sri Lanka.
Despite such overwhelming literary, cultural and archeological evidence, some post-colonial historians painted a picture of a pristine mono-ethnic native culture that was contaminated by periodic Tamil invasions from South India. Such sentiments were carefully nurtured by including these discourses into text books such as Kumarodhaya 2 - a Sinhala text book used in primary schools. This mindset and the consequent narratives provided the ammunition to a very parochial and orthodox Tamil Leadership, influenced by the concurrently evolving ‘Dravidian politics’ of South India, to launch their own brand of identity politics. They in turn articulated a version of history that clearly demarcated the Sinhala and Tamil societies into polarised socio-cultural-political and geographical spaces. These divisive discourses sadly distorted a truly inclusive Sri Lankan history and progressively escalated into a prolonged civil war with lasting scars.
Case studies from the stone inscriptions of Lankatillake Viharaya in Kandy and the Tri-lingial stone slab from Galle summarised below illustrate the co-existence of Sinhala and Tamil in pre-colonial Sri Lanka sharply contradicting the mono-ethnic narratives.
Figure 1 shows a part of the stone inscriptions at Lankatillake Viharaya in Kandy. This temple, from the Gampola Period (14th century) was commissioned by King Bhuvanekabahu IV. Externally the temple demonstrates a unique blend of Sinhalese, Dravidian and Indo-Chinese architectural styles. The inscriptions on the adjoining mountain face are in Sinhala (Figure 1) and Tamil (Figure 2).
The Sinhala and Tamil inscriptions appear in the same block of granite stone - one below the other, implying that the same message was inscribed in both languages that co-existed at the time.
Figure 3: The sign board installed by the Department of Archeology at the site of the inscription
The sign-board from the Department of Archeology at the above stone inscription however sadly refers to the language as “Medieval Sinhala” (Figure 3: yellow arrows) with no reference to the Tamil script. Such errors of omission and commission - accidental or otherwise, feed into the Tamil fears of loss of identity through assimilation.
These historical realities - including the well established presence of Islam in pre-colonial Sri Lanka, stand in stark contrast to the divisive narratives of the post-independence period. Even after the end of the war in 2009, reconciliation has remained incomplete and mistakes of the past only partially rectified. Despite the positive, well-intentioned and constructive messages from President Dissanayake’s government, governance is dominated by identity politics and ethno-nationalistic undertones that are hard to overcome. This has had a lasting impact on development as creating the institutional trust and policy continuity needed for long-term progress is nearly impossible in a fragmented society.
It is in this context that the economic crisis of 2022 needs to be seen. This financial meltdown was the culmination of several systemic failures - fiscal mismanagement, dependence on borrowing and a fragile governance structure that systematically exacerbated internal differences. The crisis exposed the limitations of a development model overly reliant on concessional grants and insufficiently grounded in domestic resilience and inclusive nation-building. What was most striking was the cultivated internal differences being deployed to mask systematic corruption by presenting a narrative of “We are poor because they exploited us” – an endeavour in which a small but vociferous group from the professional and academic class acted as collaborators.
Recovery has since been pursued through external assistance, particularly through IMF-supported reforms aimed at stabilisation. While necessary, these measures come with significant trade-offs. Fiscal consolidation and structural reforms often impose social costs, particularly on vulnerable populations. Developmental projects vital for economic recovery - such as the development of the Trincomalee oil storage tank farms or the Colombo Port City, have been delayed as the developmental partners were evaluated through the ‘ethnic prism’ rather than the merits (or demerits) of such partners. This highlights the central dilemma of how Sri Lanka can rebuild its economy and control its development priorities?
Development assistance - aid, concessionary lending, tariff free trade etc.; has long been central to Sri Lanka’s progress. Yet the politics of aid, in whatever form is rarely neutral. In fact, aid and fiscal assistance are very much extensions of foreign policy of powerful countries and carry conditions, explicit or implicit, that restrict policy direction. More fundamentally, aid can foster dependency and weaken domestic resource mobilisation, distort development priorities, and align national policy with external interests.
Like Sri Lanka several countries in Sub-Saharan Africa too face significant challenges in raising capital for vital developmental projects amidst internal fractures - along tribal lines, and external threats. How some of these low-income countries are navigating these challenges is therefore an interesting comparator. In this context, Ethiopia’s experience with the recently concluded Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) is provocative. Faced with limited external support, Ethiopia mobilised domestic resources - through bonds, state financing, and widespread public contributions - to build a transformative national project. This model was not merely financial; it was symbolic. Despite Ethiopia’s own ethno-tribal tensions that remain unresolved, the success of financing GERD entirely through internal mechanisms fostered a sense of national ownership, collective responsibility, and developmental sovereignty. The surge of emotions and pride amongst Ethiopians at the launch event was palpable and infectious across the entire African continent.
For Sri Lanka, the lesson is not that external aid should be abandoned, but that true sustainability requires internal alignment - of state, society, and diaspora. It should be built through building a covenant between the state and ALL sections of society. In this context, the Sri Lankan diaspora in general and the Tamil diaspora in particular has special relevance. If handled fairly but firmly, this group can become one of the country’s significant assets. Highly educated and globally connected, it carries financial, intellectual, and institutional capital that could contribute to national development. Yet diaspora engagement is complex. It is shaped by historical memory of conflict, displacement, and exclusion. This memory, while legitimate, can sometimes limit engagement with the present realities. Though the diaspora can provide investment and expertise, it can also reinforce divisions if engagement is driven by past grievances. The challenge to the current and future governments therefore lie in reorienting diaspora engagement towards a future-focused partnership grounded in trust.
At the core of Sri Lanka’s internal divisions lies a deeper civilisational paradox. The island’s two major religious traditions, Buddhism and Hinduism - are often presented as markers of division. Yet philosophically and historically, they are profoundly interconnected through concepts of dharma, karma, compassion, and transcendence. Both have coexisted for centuries, influencing each other’s practices, rituals, and ethical frameworks. In many respects, they are not opposites, but two interconnected world-views within a shared civilisational and philosophical continuum.
This insight opens a powerful pathway forward. Reconciliation in Sri Lanka has often been framed in political or constitutional terms - power-sharing arrangements, institutional reforms, international mechanisms of accountability. While these undoubtedly remain important, they are insufficient on their own. Sustainable peace requires a deeper cultural and philosophical accommodation. Building bridges between Buddhism and Hinduism offers such a possibility. It allows reconciliation to be grounded not in abstract frameworks imposed by external agencies, but in cultural narratives that are familiar, legitimate, and authentic.
Crucially however, this approach must avoid assimilation or dominance or changing historical realities. Neither tradition can subsume the other. The objective is not homogenisation, but mutual recognition - an understanding that these identities can coexist without threat. This form of cultural reconciliation could provide a foundation for rebuilding trust, particularly in regions where historical grievances remain strong. It offers a way of addressing identity not as a zero-sum contest, but as a shared inheritance.
Sri Lanka’s future therefore lies in aligning its internal and external realities into a coherent framework for development. These need to happen simultaneously rather than sequentially as they form parts of a mutually inter-dependent matrix.
This requires several paradigm shifts:
From dependency to agency: reducing reliance on external assistance while engaging it strategically.
From division to inclusion: building a political culture that recognises and respects diversity.
From diaspora alienation to partnership: harnessing global Sri Lankan networks as collaborators in development.
From technocratic solutions to cultural grounding: recognising that reconciliation must be rooted in shared civilisational values.
External aid will continue to play a role, geopolitical pressures will remain and diaspora engagement will be a double-edged sword. But none of these, in isolation, will determine Sri Lanka’s future. The decisive factor will be whether the country can draw upon its own internal resources - its institutions, its people, and its cultural traditions to create a shared vision of co-ownership. In this context, the recognition that Buddhism and Hinduism represent not opposing forces but complementary strands of a shared civilisational heritage may offer one of the most powerful tools for healing. The building of bridges between Buddhism and Hinduism however will not automatically include Islam and Christianity which are important, independent and inalienable components of this complex equation. Rather, it would demonstrate that identity is not a zero-sum contest and create the conditions for a more inclusive dialogue involving all segments of society. In the final analysis, sustainable development in Sri Lanka is not only about infrastructure, investment, or policy. It is about trust - between all segments of society, between state and society, and between the past and the future. Only when this trust is rebuilt can Sri Lanka move from a position of constraint to one of confidence - charting its own path in a complex and contested world.
The views expressed in this article are that of the author alone and do not represent the views of the University of Manchester on the subject.
