-By a Special Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -14.Nov.2025, 11.00 PM) Concerns about malpractice at the University of Peradeniya’s Faculty of Arts have long circulated in academic circles. Only weeks ago, we reported on allegations surrounding its Dean, Prof. Prabath Ekanayake, and a close-knit coterie accused of turning a once-respected faculty into a private fiefdom. Now, fresh revelations point to an even more disturbing truth: systematic mark manipulation allegedly carried out by senior academics—evidence, according to insiders, of a culture of impunity so entrenched that accountability has become a farce.
At the centre of the latest scandal is **Dr Mahinda Herath**, a senior lecturer with a professorial credential, formerly the Head of the Department of Buddhist and Pali Studies. Herath has since been quietly removed from the post, though not before his alleged misconduct left a deep scar on the integrity of the institution.
Today, we reveal how Herath is accused of illegally accessing the university’s digital grading system—using the confidential login credentials of another academic—to **inflate the marks of a female undergraduate believed to be his romantic partner**. At the same time, he is alleged to have **deliberately lowered the marks of several other students**, including student monks, who were seen as “rivals” standing in the young woman's path.
In any globally recognised university, such a breach of academic integrity would trigger immediate suspension, a formal inquiry, and likely criminal investigation. But at Peradeniya, the response was lethargic, bordering on protective. Herath continued to function as department head weeks after the scandal had been exposed.
Only after mounting internal pressure did the administration shuffle him aside—though “discipline” came in the form of a cosmetic reassignment. The role of Acting Head of Department was handed to Prof. Abey Ratnayake of the Sociology Department, but Herath was granted a new appointment: **Coordinator of the Faculty’s internship programme**, effectively giving him authority over the entire final-year cohort.
Not only was he not sidelined - his administrative reach expanded.
This bewildering outcome has produced only one conclusion among senior academic observers: **the system is protecting its own**.
In a competitive specialised degree programme, the difference of even a single mark can alter a student’s ranking, scholarship eligibility, or postgraduate prospects. Herath was acutely aware of this. Insiders say his intervention permanently altered several students’ academic futures, all to advantage one undergraduate with whom he was romantically involved.
The gravity of the matter extends beyond mere favouritism. The manipulation allegedly involved accessing an official university database using the hidden profile of another academic—an act that would, in many jurisdictions, be classified as **data fraud**.
Colleagues describe Herath’s behaviour as the latest chapter in a long-running pattern of hypocrisy.
Before joining academia, Herath was closely associated with a temple near Thalatu Oya, where he lived as a monk. Senior members of the Dayaka Sabha recall a young novice whose piety was carefully displayed but shallow at its core. Those who knew him say that his personal struggles with discipline and desire shadowed him long before he entered the halls of Peradeniya.
University staff now say Herath’s time in the Arts Faculty has revealed what his earlier religious community quietly understood: a veneer of spiritual and academic respectability masking a propensity for duplicity.
Why did Herath believe he could manipulate marks, bury the evidence, and escape unscathed?
Because, say insiders, **the Faculty leadership had already set the precedent**.
Prof. Prabath Ekanayake—the Dean—has long been known to protect a cohort of loyalists. The Dean allegedly shielded his “inner circle” from scrutiny, offering administrative favours, promotions, and cover in exchange for unwavering allegiance.
Under such a structure, Herath’s offence may have appeared trivial, even acceptable—a small indiscretion compared to the catalogue of alleged improprieties swirling around the faculty’s top administration.
One senior academic, speaking on condition of anonymity, described the dynamic succinctly:
“Under this Dean, those who serve him are protected. Those who challenge him are crushed. Herath assumed he was protected. And for a time, he was.”
Herath’s misconduct ultimately created a stench too pungent for even the Dean to ignore. But instead of pursuing transparent discipline, sources say Ekanayake opted for damage management—choosing **containment** over **accountability**.
He temporarily stepped back from his post due to an unrelated administrative review. Yet even during his absence, he ensured that power remained within his trusted circle. Herath, though tainted, remained close to the centre of faculty operations. “Covering the rot”, as one senior lecturer put it, became more important than cleaning it.
The Dean’s office, critics allege, has become a sanctuary for underperforming, politically loyal, or ethically compromised academics—an ecosystem where wrongdoing is not punished but redistributed.
Since the scandal, Herath reportedly moves through the faculty like a man expecting the walls to whisper. Students note his unusual vigilance when someone enters his office. Digital devices are banned inside his room by faculty instruction after the incident—yet one person enters freely without restriction: the female undergraduate at the centre of the scandal.
Her presence, observers say, is a daily reminder of both his misconduct and the institution’s reluctance to address it.
The Peradeniya Arts Faculty is no stranger to tales of academic impropriety—romantic entanglements, exam-paper leaks, and administrative favouritism among them. But this scandal is different. It comes in an era when Sri Lanka is attempting a national reset—promising transparency, institutional rebuilding, and a commitment to “Clean Sri Lanka”.
If the Faculty of Arts, one of the country’s most influential educational centres, cannot uphold basic academic integrity, what does that say about the nation’s aspirations?
A senior professor made the point bluntly:
“A country cannot clean its politics if it refuses to clean its universities. That is where leaders are made—and corrupted.”
The evidence is in the open. The scandal is documented. The victims are identifiable.
What remains uncertain is whether Peradeniya’s top administrators possess the courage to undertake the one action that matters: a full, independent inquiry leading to meaningful disciplinary outcomes.
Herath’s misconduct is no longer an isolated event; it has become a symbol of the faculty’s moral collapse. A new era demands that such decay be confronted—not buried in committee rooms or smothered by administrative brotherhoods.
As Sri Lanka reorients itself toward transparency, the nation must ask:
**Will Peradeniya clean house—or continue disinfecting the symptoms while preserving the disease?**
For now, the answer remains painfully unclear. But one truth is evident:
The day of reckoning is coming.
-By a Special Correspondent
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by (2025-11-14 18:59:34)
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