Dr. R. D. Guneratne
Senior Lecturer (retd.), University of Colombo; Former Director/CEO, National Science and Technology Commission
Chair: IDTDS committee, SLAAS
In the early 1950s, shortly after independence, our country ranked among the wealthiest nations in Asia by per capita GDP. Seventy-five years on, countries that once lagged far behind, most notably South Korea, have not merely caught up but have surged ahead, leaving Sri Lanka in a position of comparative stagnation. At a workshop organised by the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, I attempted to examine this troubling trajectory and argue that the root of Sri Lanka’s developmental failure lies not only in a persistent neglect of science, technology, and innovation, but in the inability of successive governments to establish an “innovation ecosystem” which would promote rapid, export-oriented industrialisation, ease of doing business, and a nexus between research and innovation on the one hand, and technology driven commerce on the other..
I frame national development as what scholars call a “wicked problem,” one that cannot be solved by any single discipline working in isolation. Understanding why some nations develop and others do not requires the combined insights of developmental economics, political science, sociology and anthropology, history, demography, and international relations. Sri Lanka’s failure, I argue, must accordingly be examined through multiple lenses simultaneously.
A comparison with Malaysia is particularly instructive. The two countries share notable similarities: both are multi-ethnic societies with histories of colonial rule, both inherited agricultural economies, and both faced significant social and political tensions in the post-independence period. Yet Malaysia’s trajectory diverged sharply from Sri Lanka’s, largely due to the visionary leadership of Dr. Mahathir bin Mohamad, whose tenure as Prime Minister from 1981 to 2003 oversaw average annual economic growth of approximately seven percent. Mahathir’s strategy was comprehensive: he established free trade zones, attracted foreign direct investment with accompanying technology transfer, privatised state institutions, streamlined the civil service, invested in heavy industry, and encouraged private sector participation in both industry and higher education. Crucially, he also invested heavily in science and technology infrastructure, including the establishment of research-oriented universities and the landmark Multimedia Super Corridor near Kuala Lumpur. Malaysia’s Gross Domestic Expenditure on Research and Development (GERD) grew from 0.22 percent of GDP in 1996 to 0.95 percent by 2020, with ambitious plans to reach 3.5 percent by 2030.
Sri Lanka’s record on the same measure is stark by comparison. Our GERD has hovered around 0.10 to 0.16 percent of GDP for several decades, with no meaningful upward trend. This is not merely a budgetary oversight. In my experience working within national science and technology institutions, I have observed a deeper cultural and institutional problem: for decades, both politicians and senior government officials have failed to recognise science and technology as genuine drivers of national development. The Treasury has historically treated R&D expenditure as a short-term investment, expecting commercialisable output within three to five years. When this does not materialise, as is entirely normal in basic and applied research globally, the spending is deemed wasteful. This reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of how research generates long-term value.
I must also be clear that investment in R&D alone is insufficient. What is needed is an integrated innovation ecosystem a coordinated framework within which research, enterprise, regulation, and finance operate in productive alignment. The components of such a system include government financing and regulatory support, robust intellectual property protection, accessible venture capital, fair insolvency procedures, and strong institutional linkages among universities, state R&D bodies, and private industry. In high-performing economies such as South Korea, the majority of GERD actually originates from industry rather than government, a sign of a mature ecosystem in which the private sector has both the incentive and the confidence to invest in knowledge creation.
Sri Lanka’s weakness on this front is clearly reflected in World Bank data on the ease of doing business. Ranked 99th out of 190 countries in 2020, we trail well behind South Korea (5th) and Malaysia (12th). In specific areas, the picture is even more discouraging: enforcing contracts ranks 164th, registering property 138th, and getting credit 132nd. These are not peripheral concerns; they are precisely the conditions that determine whether innovation can be translated into meaningful economic activity.
What I find most disheartening is that Sri Lanka had the foundations. Research institutes in tea, rubber, coconut, and rice were established well before independence, and the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research (CISIR), now the Industrial Technology Institute (ITI) followed in 1955. What was absent was the political will to build upon these foundations, to industrialise, and to create conditions in which science could serve economic growth. Instead, socialist policy orientations, hostility toward private enterprise and education, prolonged ethnic conflict, and a culture of dependency on the State combined to suppress the dynamic private sector that has driven development elsewhere in Asia.
Research into this problem requires a multi-disciplinary approach. Many mono-disciplinary studies have failed to find root causes. Finding and implementing a solution demands precisely the transdisciplinary thinking that the study of development requires. Economic reform, scientific investment, legal and regulatory overhaul, and cultural change cannot proceed in silos. Stake holders, including academics, policymakers, the corporate sector, educators, and the broader public, must work in genuine concert. Without this collective commitment, Sri Lanka risks not merely falling further behind, but losing the intellectual and human capital needed to catch up at all.
Sri Lanka’s development deficit is not the result of fate or geography. It is the product of decisions made and not made, institutions built and then neglected, and a national imagination that has yet to fully grasp the enduring connection between knowledge, innovation, and prosperity. That is a reality we can no longer afford to ignore.