Thursday, 9 December 2004 |
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Sirisena Tilakaratna was born on Christmas day in 1938. He was appointed the Founding Professor of Economics in the University of Sri Jayawardenapura at the age of 34. He worked in local and foreign Universities, nationally and internationally. He served the government and inter-governmental agencies in the United Nations system. He reached the acme of our academic establishment when he was appointed Chairman of the University Grants Commission in 1995. He and his surviving wife Malini brought up two children who were educated in British Universities. After a brief illness, he died on 3 August 2001, without experiencing the menace of old age. His was a charmed life. His life is the story of a bright lower - middle-class village boy who reached the top of the academic and social ladder by virtue of a combination of high intelligence, discipline, a little bit of luck, and - so I should contend - a higher education in the English medium. I knew him by repute in the 1970s. I had read his writings on the rural poor. He was something of an authority on Participatory Rural Development. I got to know him personally and really well in the UGC. We used to argue about all sorts of things. He often said that as a realistic and practical economist, he did not believe, as I tended to do, that the never-wholly-satisfied demand for social justice by millions of people can be achieved by creating an ideal society overnight. We agreed that both he and I who began in the lower middle class were able to reach our present stations in life only because we were fortunate enough to receive a higher education in the English medium at State expense. But for the rural poor, the only feasible path of upward social mobility at present is an education in their mother tongue. We agreed that the main academic problem to solve in university education in our country is the tension between the demands of the rural poor and the lower middle class. He said we need not worry about the education of the well-to-do because they knew how to look after themselves. He insisted that in our mixed economy they should be allowed to do so. He strongly believed that the private sector should be encouraged to participate in the field of higher education. When I voiced reservation about the field of medical education, he invariably retorted, "What is so special about medical education? Like every other group with vested interests, medics want a monopoly on medical business, not because they care so much for the health of patients, but because like everybody else they love money". I have to admit that on this subject he often reduced me to silence. I miss very much those arguments I had with him and I cherish his memory. He is, indeed, worthy of commemoration. This year's memorial oration will be delivered by a another village boy Dr. Uswatte Arachchi, who was educated at the University of Peradeniya and the University of Cambridge, at state expense. The subject he has chosen to talk about is "What Are Universities For? In cynical old age, my answer to that question is: For the same reason that there are sheep; namely, to be fleeced by the academic staff. If you wish to listen to an answer which is both intellectually sophisticated and socially responsible, you should come to the National Library Auditorium at 14, Independence Avenue, Colombo 7 on Thursday December 9 at 5 p.m. - Professor Carlo Fonseka |
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