In memory of the late Mr. C. Cyril Matthew
(Minister of Industries and Scientific Affairs)
One of the central arguments of Tamil separatists for rebellion in Sri Lanka is the Standardisation of university admissions. By cleverly manipulating facts, extremists have deluded the international community and many Sri Lankans into believing that standardisation was a racist piece of regulation aimed at ethnic supremacism by the Sinhalese. However, two clear facts prove the lie of such misleading claims.

1) Tamil separatist terrorist activity clearly predates the standardisation legislation first adopted in 1972. For instance, by 1958 Tamil terrorists were already murdering Sinhalese civilians (like shopkeepers in Batticaloa) and policemen, and destroying public property (derailing trains, etc.). This was of course in the aftermath of the 24-hour Sinhala Only policy of Bandaranaike. In April, 1961 Chelvanayakam had declared an independent postal service in Jaffna and Mrs. Bandaranaike had to declare curfew and dispatch troops to control the situation. By 1961 a group called Pulip Padai (Army of Tigers) had formed to carry on an armed rebellion against the Sinhalese state. The Tigers also floated a trawler company in Colombo to smuggle arms into the country. In 1969 the Tamil Liberation Organisation was formed and by 1971 they were making bombs at high schools in the North. Notice that all of the examples cited above occurred well before standardisation as a practice came into operation.

2) The SLFP government of the time was justified in using standardisation as a solution to various mal-practices in the sphere of education and higher education. There is clear evidence of an island-wide Tamil conspiracy committing examinations fraud at the Advanced level and University level on a hidden, but massive scale. It is in part these illegal acts that forced the hand of the government.

Population figures
When Sri Lanka gained Independence, the population proportions were 71% Sinhala and 11% Ceylon Tamil. In 1954, 142 Sinhalese students were admitted to the University for science courses as compared to 145 Tamil students. In 1959 "the proportion of Tamil students receiving university education compared to the population was 1:320. This was as good as the educational facilities provided in the United Kingdom. But the proportion of Sinhalese receiving university education in comparison with the population was 1:3212" (Diabolical Conspiracy, 7). It only remained to be proven that Tamil students were being illegitimately admitted to state universities at the expense of students from other ethnic groups.

"It has been alleged by many witnesses, that probably questions at public examinations are being indicated to some students by the university lecturers. It was alleged that some lecturers who have some personal dislike towards some students are unduly harsh when awarding marks" (para. 86, University Commission Report).

"Concerning the allegation that extra marks are given on linguistic and racial considerations, some witnesses produced even statistical data to show how a certain Faculty has admitted large numbers of students belonging to a particular race and charged that Faculty with favouritism. This is very true" (para. 100, University Commission report).

Between 1965-70, the number of Sinhala and Tamil students admitted to the Faculty of Medicine were 410 and 464 respectively. During the same period the number of Sinhala and Tamil students being admitted to the Faculty of Engineering was 336 and 346 respectively. The above are the figures for the entire country. Notice that a minority that represents only 11% of the population was dominating more than half the university admissions at a national level. This would be equivalent to the total student population in universities in the United States being more than 50% black.

After standardisation was introduced in the early 70s, the figures improved dramatically for the Sinhalese students, but did not deteriorate significantly for the Tamil students. In other words, while admission of Tamil students only declined in relative terms, the admission of Sinhala students increased rapidly. Between 1971 and 1976 the number of Sinhala and Tamil students admitted to the Faculty of Medicine was 785 and 393 respectively. The admissions to the Faculty of Engineering were 921 for Sinhalese and 311 for Tamils. The huge outcry that followed was a clearly racist and apartheid style reaction to the just distribution of a scarce resource Ñ higher education Ñ to the various ethnic groups in the country. Unfortunately due to political pressure by small minority groups, the ethnic ratio in University standardisation was removed by the government (Diabolical Conspiracy, 14).

Strategy
As reported, one strategy Tamil students used to identify themselves secretly in examinations was the use of the Tamil letter "OM" in an inconspicuous corner of their examination answer sheets. Since a considerable number of examiners were Tamil, they could easily identify Tamil candidates and give them more marks than they deserved for their answers. In answers that were written in Tamil, the process of discrimination was even easier;

1. the candidate was clearly Tamil, since no Sinhala student would sit for an examination in Tamil, and

2. any overma-rking would not be evident to most Sinhala Education officers since they did not understand the Tamil language.

Furthermore, it was a habit of Tamil students presenting themselves for practical lab examinations to wear certain marks that would identify them as Tamils. For instance, it has been reported that "a Tamil lecturer, Dr. S. Nithiyananthan, approached a girl wearing a 'pottu' thinking she was a Tamil but moved away when she could not respond in Tamil as she was a Sinhala girl". The system of viva voce examinations as a means of testing at A/L examinations was abandoned entirely due to such malpractices (Diabolical Conspiracy, 20, 24, 62).

Further, Tamil schools with University Entrance candidates would invite Tamil university lecturers for preparatory seminars. These lecturers would innocently discuss certain questions with the students. Many of these Tamil lecturers had the responsibility of setting questions for the examinations. They would set the very same questions that they had discussed with the Tamil students. In this manner Tamil students would only have to memorize the answers and had an unfair advantage at the exams (Cyril Matthew, Diabolical Conspiracy, 38).

A committee consisting entirely of Tamil officials conducted a special investigation into the alleged irregular overmaking done by Tamil examiners. An official report was suubmitted to the Commissioner of Examinations. In a part of the report that is reproduced in column 1959 of the Hansard of December 11, 1978, "the Committee has without any ambiguity stated that overmarking has in fact taken place".

Mosquito example
The 'life cycle of the mosquito' example cited by Mr. Cyril Matthew is notorious. In this regard the behaviour of certain members of the TULF is noteworthy. Their intent was clearly to disrupt the presentation of evidence. This leads us to believe that even these members of Parliament were at least aware of the conspiracy. In order to confuse the proceedings even false affidavits, by persons like Dr. (Miss) Manomani Sabaratnam, were produced in parliament. The falsity of such documents was proved beyond doubt by Mr. Cyril Matthew.

These facts are recorded in the December 11 Hansard of 1978. Mr. Matthew states; "Favouration by Tamil lecturers and professors in the University is nothing new. It has been going on since the University of Ceylon was established in 1942 and the establishment of the Faculty of Engineering in 1950. In the forties there was not a single Professor who was a Sinhalese in the Faculty of Science of the University" (Diabolical Conspiracy, 59). In concluding the evidence for the 'mosquito', Mr. Matthew quite unequivocally states: "My charge is that the Tamil lecturers have cheated" (Diabolical Conspiracy, 75).

Even as late as 1975 and 1976, Tamil examiners were still committing examinations fraud and overmarking Tamil students. The Tamil medium students were scoring a much higher number of A/s and B/s compared to Sinhala medium students. At the University, Tamil examiners were also giving a large number of first classes to Tamil students. In the Department of Botany, University of Peradeniya, for instance, about 90% of Tamil medium students were given A/s, while only 5-10% of the Sinhala medium students had received A/s. Specifically, at the General Science Qualifying Exmaination in 1977, out of 45 Sinhala medium students only 2 received A/is. Of the 12 Tamil medium students, 10 received A/s and the remaining 2 received B/s. There were no C/s among the Tamil medium students (Diabolical Conspiracy, 62-3).

The results of the final degree examination in some departments, for instance in Engineering, as reported annually in newspapers, indicate that the situation has not significantly changed up to this day.

Scientific
Quite apart from these facts, Mr. Matthew clearly demonstrated that Standardisation is a scientifically accepted system used in education the world over for normalising student performance results (Diabolical Conspiracy, 41-45). Many of my friends in the United States have ignorantly raved against Standardisation in Sri Lanka. As a student in the US for four years, it has been my experience that American students can even be driven to mutiny when Standardisation is not used. In the US, Standardisation is just called something else: "the curve".

Some people do not like to hear about overreaching conspiracy theories against it. When those who expose such conspiracies insist on the veracity of their facts, they are branded as extremists. In fact Mr. Cyril Matthew probably sacrificed his political career by championing the cause of innocent Sinhala students, who were unfairly denied admission to the national universities. Mr. J. R. Jayewardene had to relegate Mr. Matthew from the forefront of the party because his views were considered too racially biased. It is a pity that a generation of Sri Lankans has grown up, who are completely unaware of this historical conspiracy. They compound matters when they bring this ignorance to the modern debate over the ethnic conflict.

Tamil separatists, extremists, terrorists and contemporary Devolution package proponents claim many things. However, one thing none of them can claim before even a vaguely informed and intelligent audience, is that University Standardisation was a racially discriminatory piece of legislation. In fact it was specifically implemented to prevent racist discrimination by some Tamil examiners against the majority Sinhalese students in higher education.

Ironic
It is ironic that the very SLFP, that once introduced Standardisation to provide justice to the Sinhalese students, is now central to the Devolution package, which is founded on fallacies of discrimiantion against the Tamil minority, as in the case of Standardization. While no ethnic discrimination of any kind is justifiable, it is necessary to understand that even events such as Sinhala-Tamil riots are in part cited by the kind of discriminatory background that is substantiated in this article. Those Tamil examiners and political extremists who willfully participated in this scheme must surely shoulder some of the blame for Many animosity and mistrust the Sinhala people may harbour against all Tamils. Evidence of this nature severely erodes the legitimacy of any Tamil demands for regional autonomy and even the practical rationality of asking for Tamil as a national language. First among those who are responsible for such a ground reality are the extremist Tamil groups.

In February, 1998 the PA government celebrated Sri Lanka's 50th anniversary since Independence from colonial rule. Great fanfare was involved and a large number of troops and military, naval and air force equipment that could not be spared from the war effort were brought to Colombo. This was all as a show for Prince Charles (many of these troops and equipment were lost when they were attacked while returning to the war zone). In the excitement of the celebrations, the PA Government ignored the fact that in all 50 years of Independence, there hasn't been a single year in which Sinhala students have had fair access to higher education in this country.

Continued from yesterday

Between the calls of duty in public life and the perks of ministerial office, the blandishment of travel abroad was like a siren singing in the distant twilight.

The lure of distant places, of privileged flights and pampering hosts, was what principally occupied the labourers in the political vineyard, the harvests they hallucinated about while treading the dirt and the dust of the hustings.

For a Prime Minister there were endless opportunities for visiting crowned counterparts, standing invitations to accept, visits to reciprocate, addresses to make in this or that distant forum; over and above all, to be heard in that ultimate summit of all international platforms, the United Nations General Assembly.

But to Bandaranaike, almost uniquely at the time, these were not siren calls. He intensely disliked travelling out of the country. It was a combination of the weariness of ocean liners or the hazards of the air and the tedium of packing and unpacking and living in hotel rooms that framed his state of mind.

He was also amused and irritated by the eagerness of his ministerial colleagues to take wing at the least provocation or none. He was vastly titillated by the almost passionate desire of one of them, the rotund, rollicking Minister of Posts, Marikkar who wished most of all to visit Japan in cherry blossom time and subject himself to the delectable ministrations of the geisha girls, known to him only through agonising hearsay.

He chuckled at such human foibles. Sometimes he did more than that. He would subject tardy or errant Ministers to the slash of his tempered tongue under which they could do no more than quail while smiling servilely.

And now it seemed he had to go to the United Nations and address the General Assembly. He had been there once, shortly after his accession to power, largely at the prompting of the ambassador in Washington who had urged him to place the country’s position on foreign affairs before the international body.

Well, he had done that with his acknowledged skill and considered that obligation fulfilled for some time. Within two years he was told his presence was necessary once more. He did not know, of course, that this was part of a benevolent domestic plot to see him out of the country. Astrologically his life was in danger if he remained in Ceylon.

In Ceylon, affairs of State, as all other matters, were ordained according to astrology. There was as in the Book of Ecclesiastes a time and a season for everything. There were precise times that were calculated according to the signs of the Zodiac and the lines on the palm of one’s hand.

It was the general belief that Bandaranaike, having been born and baptised a Christian with no less than the British Governor as his godfather from whom he derived his two middle names West Ridgeway, would not have had a horoscope cast; and if subsequently one had been done to satisfy his Buddhist wife and the demands of public office, it was assumed that being an Oxford-educated intellectual he would not attach any importance to it.

But he was a son of the soil from which astrology sprouted and flourished and which covered areas of human existence and beyond. And he was not immune to it.

Shortly after the general election which brought him into power and saw him installed as Prime Minister on 12 April 1956, an Indian publication, The Astrological Magazine foretold, after making some accurate forecasts regarding the acts of the new government, that the exit of Bandaranaike from power would be 'sudden and unexpected'. It was most likely that he was aware of this and of other forecasts in his horoscope and those made by the astrologers, that the current year 1959 would be a ‘bad one’ for him from the point of view of his personal safety.

Sirimavo wholeheartedly believed in astrology and astrological predictions as did millions of other Buddhists although Buddhism did not encourage such beliefs.

Her preoccupation with security arrangements stemmed from that belief.

Bandaranaike himself took astrological predictions and his own premonitions seriously. In the course of his first visit to London after he became Prime Minister, a friend had introduced him to a Moslem astrologer who practised this craft there. Initially Bandaranaike had shown but superficial interest. However, a few days later, he had contacted him in confidence and visited him for a consultation by himself, taking care that no one else would know of the visit.

The astrologer had told him quite directly, knowing the matter to be urgent, that his allotted life span was rapidly coming to a close. Bandaranaike had then admonished the palm reader not to tell even Sirimavo about it.

In the couple of years that followed there had been further consultations, sometimes with mediums in trance. There had been repeated confirmation of the imminent and rapidly approaching danger to his person.

Towards the middle of June in 1959, the opposition to Bandaranaike was getting sharper and more overt. Sirimavo, like so many others who feared for the Prime Minister's life, began to look for means to get him out of the country. It was a desperate move because there is a conviction among Buddhists that Maraya, the dreaded messenger of death knows no bounds when he has to deliver his message of doom.

Death by violence
But as something had to be done, and death by violence could be stalled by his absence from the country, Sirimavo used extraordinary skill to put a clever plan into action. She took the Sri Lankan ambassador to the United Nations into her confidence and suggested that he should tell the ambassador in Washington, Sir Claude Corea, that the Prime Minister’s presence was imperative in New York at the United Nations. Accordingly Sir Claude sent him a cablegram telling him just that.

At the time Bandaranaike received it in Colombo, Sirimavo and the children were away at their seaside residence in Balangoda during the so-called ësummer’ holidays.

The Prime Minister immediately decided to go as the situation seemed urgent. He telephoned Sirimavo and informed her of his decision, and invited her to accompany her.

Sirimavo was pleased that her plan was working.

Bandaranaike also told her to make suitable arrangements for the time they would be out of the country for her sister to be with the children.

Sirimavo smiled, as he never left the children except in her care or with some trusted relative.

He had then begun to make other arrangements such as re-scheduling his diary and gathering his thoughts and such belongings that he would require for the trip.

'I suppose these things have to be done', he muttered to himself, still uncomfortable with the thought of overseas travel. When Sirimavo returned from the country she started to pack his cases and found to her dismay that his Western clothes, so rarely worn, had been attacked by moths and they did not fit any more.

That, too, he considered, and though he disliked spending money on himself and especially on clothes, he telephoned an exclusive British firm, Millers, and ordered a few suits. Tailors arrived at his residence by appointment, measured him, and promised to return for a preliminary fit-on.

Those arrangements made, he considered the team that would accompany him. They would comprise officials, journalists and personal staff.

The Government Information Department in liaison with newspaper proprietors would arrange that part, but he had a special preference for Auggie Gabriel, political reporter of the Clarion. He was one of the newspaper tribe with whom he could have a comfortable and even enjoyable conversation. He looked forward to someone with whom he could relax on the long dreary hours in the air.

He had first met the handsome, debonair reporter at the weekly early morning press briefings where amidst the stilted, even fawning questions addressed to him, Gabriel had introduced a touch of humour.

The Prime Minister felt he could do with some of that as a break from, ah, more serious matters.

Something else that took his mind off serious matters was a wedding in the family only a fortnight before the date of his departure. It was the wedding of Sirimavo's youngest brother.

Most upper class weddings were held at the Mount Lavinia Hotel, a colonial relic of great elegance which wore about it an air of faded grandeur. Its spacious halls and bedrooms and heavily carpeted corridors had seen princes and potentates, writers, artists and celebrities from all walks of life tarry there for a while. To this wedding had also come the cream of society from the urban and rural gentry, politicians of many shades. Sirimavo’s maternal uncle, Sam, was also present in the traditional role of the one who would perform the marriage ceremony.

While having breakfast, Sam had remarked casually to the Prime Minister, 'Things are rather quiet now, no Banda?'

The Prime Minister had sucked in his pipe reflectively for a few seconds, then taking his pipe out of his mouth replied, 'A bit too quiet, Sam. I’m worried about that. When it's quiet like this, something is brewing. I don't like this quiet'.

Continued tomorrow