Is racism dead, dying or alive and kicking? A response

Buddhism is a sacred morality, and because it is based on reason and experience, it is a powerful force that can eliminate inequality. My ideal would be a society based on Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity - Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, the chief architect of the Indian Constitution

Introduction

Indeed, public debate on racism in Sri Lanka is both necessary and healthy, as no nation can truly progress while prejudice festers beneath its social fabric. However, in confronting these issues, we must guard against conceptual overreach and analytical imprecision, especially when constitutional provisions, religious identity, and political misuse are conflated, causing the debate to lose both clarity and credibility. At the heart of this discussion is whether Article 9 of the Constitution, which grants Buddhism the “foremost place,” effectively institutionalises racism. My answer is clear: racism and constitutional religious recognition are fundamentally different categories, and equating them blurs the critical distinctions necessary for mature constitutional discourse.

Racism: A question of ethnicity, not religion

Racism is defined by discrimination grounded in race or ethnicity—the belief in the inherent superiority of one ethnic group over another. It is significant that Article 9 makes no mention of Sinhalese, Tamils, Muslims, or any specific racial group; rather, it speaks exclusively of Buddhism as a religion. Theoretically, a Tamil Buddhist is protected under this mandate while a Sinhalese Christian is not, a fact that dismantles the claim that the article is racially constructed. While the clause may be debated on secular grounds, it cannot be accurately labeled as racist without stripping the word “racism” of its analytical force. Precision in terminology matters because when everything is labeled racism, the word loses its power to identify actual ethnic oppression.

Constitutional Recognition Is Not Unique to Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka is not alone in constitutionally recognising a majority religion, as many modern states maintain similar frameworks to reflect their historical-cultural identity. The United Kingdom maintains an established church, Thailand accords Buddhism special status, and Denmark recognises the Evangelical Lutheran Church as its national denomination. None of these states are labeled racist merely because their constitutions embody the civilisational narrative of their people. Such recognition does not automatically translate into ethnic oppression, provided the legal framework continues to protect the rights of all citizens regardless of their faith.

Racism and constitutional religious recognition are fundamentally different categories, and equating them blurs the critical distinctions necessary for mature constitutional discourse

Buddhism and the rejection of hierarch, or racism response 

The teachings of the Gautama Buddha explicitly reject notions of inherent superiority based on birth. The Dhamma historically dismantled caste privilege in spiritual attainment, emphasised moral equality, and elevated personal conduct over lineage. If the core doctrine of Buddhism rejects racial and social hierarchy, it is philosophically incoherent to claim that the constitutional recognition of that religion is inherently racist. We must be careful not to confuse the political abuse of religion for mobilisation with the religion’s core tenets. While political actors may cloak exclusionary agendas in the language of faith to galvanise a base, such maneuvers represent a departure from—rather than a fulfillment of—the Buddha’s Universalist ethics. Ultimately, judging a philosophy by its hijacked political iterations credits the opportunist while ignoring the foundational truth that the Dhamma offers no refuge for the concept of inherent superiority.

The “Sinhala-Buddhist Narrative”: Political, not constitutional

It is undeniable that Sri Lanka’s ethnic and religious identities overlap significantly, with most Buddhists being Sinhalese and most Tamils being Hindu. However, this sociological overlap does not translate into religious recognition of racial supremacy. When political actors manipulate religious identity to mobilise majoritarian sentiment, the fault lies in political opportunism rather than the constitutional text. If racism exists, it manifests in discriminatory policy, unequal enforcement, and ethnic profiling—governance failures that are not the automatic or legal consequences of Article 9.

Does Article 9 create “The Other”?

The argument that the constitutional recognition of Buddhism is inherently exclusionary rests on a fundamental misunderstanding of the religion’s ontological core, which represents a radical departure from the fixed social hierarchies of the ancient world. By replacing the rigid, birth-based structure of the Vedic Varna system with a meritocracy of Sila (virtue), the Buddha established that the path to enlightenment is a universal human potential, thereby making it philosophically incoherent to label the recognition of such a framework as “inherently racist.” 

While Professor Nihal Jayawickrama correctly identifies the risk of producing the category of “The Other,” it is essential to recognise that equality in constitutional law does not always require identical treatment; it requires non-discriminatory treatment. Article 9, which grants Buddhism the “foremost place,” must be read holistically alongside Articles 10 and 14, which guarantee freedom of religion and conscience to all citizens as a bedrock of individual liberty. If the State applies the law equally and protects minority rights robustly, the existence of such a clause functions as a historical and cultural acknowledgement rather than an engine of disenfranchisement, meaning the danger lies in the implementation rather than the existence of the text. Ultimately, we must be careful not to confuse the political abuse of religion for mobilisation with the core tenets of the religion itself, as judging a philosophy by its hijacked political iterations credits the opportunist while ignoring the foundational truth that the Dhamma offers no refuge for the concept of inherent superiority.

It is undeniable that Sri Lanka’s ethnic and religious identities overlap significantly, with most Buddhists being Sinhalese and most Tamils being Hindu. However, this sociological overlap does not translate into religious recognition of racial supremacy. When political actors manipulate religious identity to mobilise majoritarian sentiment, the fault lies in political opportunism rather than the constitutional text

The Trincomalee incident and rule of law

The removal of an illegally erected Buddha statue in Trincomalee under coastal conservation laws recently triggered communal tension, with some arguing for special consideration under Article 9. This incident does not prove that the Constitution is racist, but rather that the rule of law must be applied uniformly. No constitutional clause places any citizen—monk or layperson—above the law, and if some demand privilege beyond legal boundaries, that is a misinterpretation of the text rather than a constitutional mandate. The answer to such misapplication is firm enforcement, not conceptual distortion.

Racism: A universal phenomenon, not a Sinhala monopoly

As the article correctly notes, racism is a universal pathology not unique to Sri Lanka. From the history of slavery in the United States to apartheid in South Africa, prejudice thrives wherever power and fear intersect. Sri Lanka must confront prejudice wherever it exists—among Sinhalese, Tamils, or Muslims—but to single out one community as “constitutionally racist” because of Article 9 risks reinforcing the very polarisation we seek to dismantle. Racism is a behavioral issue that is not eliminated by simply deleting a constitutional clause.

FT Quick take

The original article can be found online at https://www.ft.lk/columns/Isracism-dead-dying-or-alive-and-kicking/4-788729

Reform requires more than symbolic abolition

Abolishing Article 9 is unlikely to eliminate racism, as racism persists in societies with strictly secular constitutions. India, which is constitutionally secular, still grapples with communal tensions, and European republics without a state religion still struggle with deep-seated ethnic discrimination. Meaningful progress requires institutional impartiality, educational reform, and economic inclusion. In my view, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s pledge to reject racism must translate into measurable governance outcomes, such as fair policing and equitable public service recruitment, because structural reform matters far more than symbolic gestures. In other words, true progress in Sri Lanka hinges on transforming President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s anti-racist rhetoric into a concrete governance framework that mirrors successful international models of structural reform. To achieve this, the administration must move beyond symbolic gestures by adopting institutional impartiality similar to Northern Ireland’s representative policing or Georgia’s meritocratic anti-corruption drive, ensuring that the state is a neutral protector rather than a tool of ethnic patronage. Educational reform must follow, perhaps drawing from Singapore’s neutral linguistic policies or Rwanda’s unified curriculum to dismantle the silos that foster communal mistrust from a young age. Finally, economic inclusion must be codified through data-driven development—akin to India’s targeted regional upliftment—and equitable public service recruitment mandates like those in New Zealand, ensuring that every citizen, regardless of their background, has a measurable stake in the nation’s prosperity. By embedding these global lessons into the local soil, the Government can replace the fragile “peace of the moment” with an enduring, inclusive democracy built on the bedrock of fair play and shared opportunity.

Article 9, which grants Buddhism the “foremost place,” must be read holistically alongside Articles 10 and 14, which guarantee freedom of religion and conscience to all citizens as a bedrock of individual liberty. Abolishing Article 9 is unlikely to eliminate racism, as racism persists in societies with strictly secular constitutions

Conclusion: Alive, yes — but misdiagnosed

Is racism alive in Sri Lanka? Yes—it persists in attitudes, political rhetoric, and sporadic acts of hostility. However, Article 9 is not, by itself, proof of constitutional racism. The danger in mislabeling the problem is that it diverts attention from practical solutions; racism cannot be eradicated by rhetoric or semantic inflation. It can only be reduced through a consistent rule of law, institutional fairness, and civic education grounded in pluralism. The real challenge is ensuring that constitutional identity does not become constitutional injustice. Racism is not defeated by confusion, but by courage and constitutional discipline. Furthermore, what I stated in “Reform Requires More Than Symbolic Abolition” is fundamentally important. 

(The writer, among many,  served as the Special Adviser to the Office of the President of Namibia from 2006 to 2012 and was a Senior Consultant with the UNDP for 20 years, and a Senior Economist with the Central Bank of Sri Lanka (1972-1993). He can be reached at [email protected])

Sri Lanka is not alone in constitutionally recognising a majority religion, as many modern states maintain similar frameworks to reflect their historical-cultural identity. The United Kingdom maintains an established church, Thailand accords Buddhism special status, and Denmark recognises the Evangelical Lutheran Church as its national denomination. None of these states are labeled racist merely because their constitutions embody the civilisational narrative of their people