By P M Amza –

History often returns to public debate through contemporary events. This time, it was the remarks of former British Home Secretary Suella Braverman that reignited discussion about the legacy of the British Empire. Responding to Jamaica’s calls for reparations for slavery, she argued that if former colonies sought compensation from Britain, they should instead “pay Britain back” for the institutions, infrastructure and investment the Empire had provided.

Her comments immediately sparked vigorous debate across the Commonwealth, including in Sri Lanka. The discussion gained added relevance after Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath told Parliament on 6 February 2026 that the Government was pursuing compensation for colonial-era losses and the return of cultural artefacts removed during colonial rule. Against this backdrop, a broader question deserves careful reflection: how should former colonies judge the legacy of an empire?

Few commentators have shaped this debate more than Shashi Tharoor and Niall Ferguson. In An Era of Darkness, Tharoor argues that British rule systematically impoverished India and subordinated its interests to those of Britain. Ferguson, by contrast, contends that although the Empire pursued its own strategic and economic interests, it also bequeathed institutions—including parliamentary government, the rule of law and modern administration—that outlived colonial rule.

Sri Lanka fits comfortably into neither narrative

Unlike India, it did not experience Partition or catastrophic famines. Unlike the Caribbean, its colonial economy was not built on plantation slavery. Yet the island undeniably lost its sovereignty, saw its economy restructured to serve imperial priorities and witnessed the suppression of indigenous resistance. At the same time, independent Sri Lanka inherited parliamentary institutions, an experienced civil service, an independent judiciary, a railway network and Colombo Port—assets that continue to support national development.

The question, therefore, is not whether British rule was wholly beneficial or wholly destructive. History rarely lends itself to such absolutes. A more useful approach is to examine Britain’s legacy as one would examine a financial ledger, recording both debits and credits before reaching a judgement.

The Debit Side of the Ledger

The greatest cost of British rule was the loss of sovereignty.

For more than two thousand years, despite invasions and internal rivalries, political authority remained in indigenous hands. That ended with the Kandyan Convention of 1815, which transferred sovereignty to the British Crown. Many Kandyan chiefs initially believed their traditions and Buddhism would be protected, but direct colonial administration gradually replaced indigenous authority.

Resistance followed swiftly. The Uva-Wellassa Rebellion of 1817–1818 was suppressed with exceptional severity. Villages were destroyed, crops burnt and livelihoods devastated under a scorched-earth campaign that remains one of the darkest episodes of Sri Lanka’s colonial history.

British rule also fundamentally transformed the economy. Coffee, and later tea, rubber and coconut, integrated Ceylon into Britain’s global trading system. The plantation economy generated considerable wealth, but its principal beneficiaries were British investors and commercial houses. Raw materials left the island, while shipping, insurance, finance and much of the value addition remained concentrated in Britain. Economic development therefore reflected imperial priorities rather than balanced national development.

The plantation economy also reshaped society. The migration of large numbers of Indian Tamil labourers made possible the growth of the tea industry and enriched Sri Lanka’s multicultural heritage, but it also created enduring questions of citizenship, political representation and social integration that continued well after independence.

Colonial land policy similarly altered traditional patterns of ownership. Through measures such as the Crown Lands Encroachment Ordinance of 1840, extensive lands were brought under Crown control and allocated to plantation enterprises. From the colonial perspective, these reforms promoted commercial agriculture. For many local communities, they represented dispossession and the erosion of customary rights.

The Colebrooke-Cameron reforms of 1833 created a centralised administrative system that improved efficiency but concentrated political authority in Colombo—a legacy that continues to influence debates over governance and devolution.

Perhaps the most fundamental criticism of British rule lies in its purpose. Roads, railways, ports and administrative institutions were not built as acts of generosity. They were constructed to strengthen imperial control, facilitate trade and maximise economic returns. Railways carried tea to Colombo Harbour, roads connected plantations to ports, and administrative reforms improved revenue collection. Their primary purpose was to serve the Empire.

The Credit Side of the Ledger

An honest ledger, however, must record assets as well as liabilities.

The most enduring inheritance of British rule was the creation of modern public institutions. During the nineteenth century, the British established a unified administrative structure with Government Agents, Kachcheris and specialised departments responsible for finance, customs, education, public works and health. Though created to govern a colony, these institutions became indispensable to the functioning of the independent state.

Closely associated with this was the evolution of the Ceylon Civil Service, widely regarded as one of Asia’s finest public services. Merit-based recruitment, administrative continuity, financial accountability and meticulous record-keeping became enduring features of governance that successive governments retained after independence.

The judiciary represents another important legacy. British legal reforms codified civil and criminal law, strengthened judicial procedures and reinforced the principle that disputes should be settled through independent courts rather than arbitrary authority. Colonial justice was far from perfect, but its institutional foundations proved remarkably durable.

Representative government also evolved steadily. Constitutional reforms culminated in the Donoughmore Constitution of 1931, which introduced universal adult franchise, placing Ceylon among the earliest countries in Asia to adopt this democratic principle. The Soulbury Constitution subsequently provided the framework for independence in 1948.

Infrastructure likewise transformed the island. The railway network, initially built to transport plantation produce, eventually integrated distant regions and facilitated commerce, mobility and national development. Colombo Port, expanded to serve imperial shipping, later became one of South Asia’s leading transshipment hubs and remains one of Sri Lanka’s greatest economic assets.

Education and public health also advanced significantly. English-language education created opportunities for professional advancement, while schools established during the colonial period contributed to the country’s later achievements in literacy. Hospitals, vaccination programmes and organised medical administration laid foundations upon which independent Sri Lanka built one of the developing world’s most respected healthcare systems.

These institutions were never intended as gifts. They were designed to strengthen imperial administration and commerce. Yet institutions often outlive the purposes for which they were created. Independent Sri Lanka chose not to dismantle Parliament, the public service, the courts, the Auditor General’s Department, the railway system or Colombo Port. Instead, it adapted and expanded them to serve a sovereign nation.

Can History Be Reduced to an Invoice?

This brings us back to the contemporary debate.

Suella Braverman’s suggestion that former colonies should repay Britain overlooks a fundamental reality. Colonial infrastructure was not financed out of imperial generosity but formed part of a strategy to strengthen political control and generate commercial returns. Much of the expenditure itself was financed through revenues raised within the colonies.

At the same time, calls for reparations cannot be answered through slogans. Each former colony experienced British rule differently. Jamaica’s history is inseparable from slavery; India’s from deindustrialisation, famines and Partition; Sri Lanka’s from the loss of sovereignty, the plantation economy and institutional transformation. These distinct experiences require careful historical and legal assessment rather than sweeping political declarations.

For Sri Lanka, however, the more important question is not whether Britain owes us, or whether we owe Britain. It is whether we have made the best use of the institutions inherited at independence while correcting the structural weaknesses colonial rule left behind.

When Ceylon became independent in 1948, it inherited a functioning parliamentary democracy, a capable public service, an independent judiciary, sound public finances and a globally recognised plantation economy. These were valuable national assets. The responsibility of independent governments was to preserve and strengthen them while addressing the inequalities created during colonial rule.

Nearly eight decades later, Sri Lanka’s successes and failures can no longer be explained solely through the legacy of the empire. Colonialism shaped our starting point, but it does not determine our destination. The quality of governance, economic prosperity, the rule of law and social harmony ultimately depend on the choices made by Sri Lankans themselves.

The debate nevertheless serves a useful purpose. It reminds us that history should neither be sanitised nor selectively remembered. Mature nations are capable of acknowledging both the achievements and the injustices of their past. They neither glorify the empire nor deny its enduring contributions.

The British Empire did not leave Sri Lanka either an inheritance or an invoice. It left a legacy—complex, contradictory and impossible to reduce to a simple balance sheet. Like every historical legacy, it contains both assets and liabilities. The task of historians is not to enlarge one column or erase the other, but to ensure that both are faithfully recorded.

Only then can the ledger of history be read with honesty. Only then can the past become not a source of perpetual grievance or misplaced nostalgia, but a foundation for wiser decisions in the future.

*The author is a former Sri Lankan Ambassador to the European Union, Belgium, Türkiye, Ukraine and Saudi Arabia and former Acting Sri Lanka High Commissioner in London. He also served as Additional Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.