By M. M. Janapriya –

Dr M. M. Janapriya

My mother was my first and the last teacher. If she’s looking down from heaven, I suspect she’s quietly pleased with how I’ve navigated this world. She taught me to revere Dr. Samuel Johnson, not just as an erudite Englishman and lexicographer, but as a philosopher who warned, “Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.” She also introduced me to Mrs. Malaprop, that delightfully misguided character from 18th-century theatre, who mangled words with misplaced confidence.

Thanks to my beloved mother, I developed an early aversion to linguistic misuse. Whether in Sinhala or English, the wrong word in the wrong place grates on my ears like a surgical blade drawn across bone and in Sri Lanka, where both languages are wielded by the “educated,” the misuse is rampant.

Loose Usage of Language: A National Malaise

Take the Sinhala words ඒකාන්තයෙන්ම and අනිවාර්යයෙන්ම. The former means “definitely, absolutely or most certainly,” the latter “compulsorily.” Yet the latter is now used indiscriminately, unhesitatingly, and unashamedly in place of the former. Every time I hear it, I challenge it. But mine is a one-man resistance against a linguistically adulterated nation. Still, I press on.

English fares no better. One glaring example is the confusion between digitisation and digitalisation, a distinction that matters more than most realise.

Court System Reform: A Misnomer with Consequences

Just days ago, Chief Justice Surasena announced his intention to “fast-track digitalisation” of Sri Lanka’s court system. The goal: to transform how justice is administered. Laudable, yes. But let us pause.

In most of South Asia and across much of Africa, winning even a straightforward case has long been a hit-or-miss affair. The ripples of my friend Lesego’s clarion call for judicial reform may well have reached Sri Lanka’s shores. But the term “digitalisation,” like Lesego’s father’s land, has been plundered, this time not by thugs without deeds, but by tech evangelists with buzzwords.

The Origin of Digitalisation: A Cautionary Tale from 1775

In 1775, Dr. William Withering, a Birmingham physician and botanist, encountered a miraculous recovery in a dropsical woman treated with herbal tea. Investigating further, he identified foxglove, now known for its cardiac properties, as the active ingredient. He began experimenting with its three main alkaloids, digoxin, digitoxin and lanatosides, later termed digitalis, and discovered its ability to induce diuresis in patients with oedema.

His breakthrough came when a prominent Oxford figure, abandoned by the finest physicians, recovered through foxglove treatment. Withering defined the patient profile, standardised leaf preparations, and established dosage guidelines, many still relevant today.

But his warnings about toxicity were ignored. Physicians misused the drug, harmed patients, and blamed Withering. Disillusioned, he wrote, “Shall we wonder then that patients refuse to repeat such a medicine, and that practitioners tremble to prescribe it?” Digitalis fell into disrepute for over a century.

Only after 150 years did its value in heart failure and arrhythmias gain recognition. It was then that the concept of slow, incremental dosing to reach an optimal therapeutic level was formalised, and the term digitalisation was coined by the medical fraternity. (Apologies to Dr. D.R Laurence, editor of Clinical Pharmacology)

Digitisation vs. Digitalisation: A Semantic Faultline

The national and private electronic media of the country showed very recently, how a lorry was needed to transport the Rambukwella family case notes. This case is only about a year old. One can just imagine how big the older case notes would be. What Chief Justice Surasena proposes, scanning mountains of case records, indexing them, and converting them into digital formats, is digitisation, not digitalisation. The latter refers to the incremental layering of digital processes atop an already digitised foundation.

Virtual hearings, online filing, SMS notifications, and public access portals are mere digital tents erected on an enormous digitised platform. To conflate the two is not just a lexical error, it’s a conceptual one.

What Reforms Must Not Leave Behind

This semantic slip by the Chief Justice is not a crime, it’s just a reminder. Even the top brass of the judiciary, being human, are fallible. And if they can err in terminology, they can err in judgment. That truth must be acknowledged with humility.

Reforms must be meticulous, user-friendly, and humane. They must reduce the travesties of justice, not just in process, but in outcome and for those wronged, there must be quick, easy, and ample room for review, perhaps by a larger bench, perhaps by a wiser one.

Let us not forget Lesego’s father, whose land was taken not by error, but by design. If digitalisation is to mean anything, it must begin with accountability, not just in code, but in conscience.