On May 22, 1972, a significant moment unfolded in Sri Lanka’s history. With the certification and adoption of a new Constitution, the nation officially declared itself the Free, Sovereign and Independent Republic of Sri Lanka, severing its final constitutional ties with the British Crown. Yet, 53 years later, this day passes by each year with barely a whisper, unmarked by ceremony or national remembrance even in places as historically symbolic as Kandy.
Instead, successive governments have chosen to commemorate February 4th Independence Day as the primary national celebration. This marks the date in 1948 when Ceylon transitioned from Crown Colony to British Dominion under the provisions of a British parliamentary act assented to by King George VI. That day, though undeniably pivotal, still bound the nation to the British monarchy, a fact that underscores why May 22, 1972, is far more symbolic of true sovereignty.
While neighbouring India celebrates both its independence on August 15th and its republican birth on January 26th with grandeur and cultural pride, Sri Lanka’s Republic Day is conspicuously absent from public discourse and official calendars.
The significance of May 22 dates back to a decisive political chapter. Following the 1970 general election, Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike convened the elected members of the House of Representatives at the Navarangahala theatre in Colombo. There, they proclaimed themselves the Constituent Assembly of Ceylon. Under the stewardship of Dr. Colvin R. de Silva, the Minister of Constitutional Affairs, this assembly undertook the drafting of a new Constitution—one that would be born entirely out of domestic will and not granted by a colonial power.
In contrast to the 1946 Constitution, granted by King George VI through an Order-in-Council at Buckingham Palace, the 1972 Constitution was a product of legal revolution an act of autochthony, a deliberate and symbolic rejection of colonial vestiges. Dr. de Silva believed it would be inconsistent, if not illegitimate, to proclaim a republic under the authority of the very Crown that Sri Lanka sought to leave behind. The Constitution boldly stated, “Sovereignty is in the People and is inalienable.”
Rather than follow the conventional route using powers granted by the British, the government asserted a revolutionary course, declaring independence anew not by permission, but by the will of the people. J.R. Jayewardene, then Leader of the Opposition, supported this extraordinary undertaking, stating, “If, however, the victors and the vanquished… agree to make common cause in enacting a new basic law by means of a legal revolution, there is no law that says you cannot do so.”
It was a time of great uncertainty. Amidst the drafting process, the nation was shaken by a sudden and violent insurrection on April 5, 1971. Yet the project persevered. On May 22, 1972, in the presence of senior judges and lawmakers, the new Constitution was enacted, and the Republic of Sri Lanka was born—not granted by foreign decree, but forged through domestic resolve.
This achievement remains unparalleled in the nation’s post-independence political history. Yet today, the significance of that day has faded from national memory. There are no public holidays, no commemorative ceremonies—not even a plaque in Kandy’s historic precincts, where the first Republic Day flag was ceremonially hoisted near the Temple of the Tooth.
Ironically, it was the government that followed the administration of J.R. Jayewardene that downplayed Republic Day. In 1977, following a landslide electoral victory, Prime Minister Jayewardene addressed the nation from the Paththiruppuwa of the Temple of the Tooth, a symbolic act once denied to Sirimavo Bandaranaike out of respect for tradition. Soon after, the Republic Day was scrapped from official observances and replaced by National Heroes’ Day—a shift that has only deepened the historical amnesia.
This neglect not only diminishes the effort of those who wrested constitutional control from colonial authority but also silences the powerful symbolism of a nation declaring its own sovereignty. While the world celebrates decolonisation and the assertion of people’s power, Sri Lanka seems hesitant to acknowledge the day it broke free not just administratively, but spiritually and constitutionally.
The founders of the Republic Bandaranaike, de Silva, and even Jayewardene may have disagreed on ideological fronts, but on this they were united: that Sri Lanka’s sovereignty must come from its people, not from imperial edict. The revolutionary fervour, the legislative resolve, and the legal ingenuity that culminated in May 22, 1972, deserve more than a footnote in history books.
Today, as Sri Lanka grapples with its identity, sovereignty, and future, perhaps it is time to reclaim May 22 not as a forgotten page, but as the very chapter that redefined what it means to be truly free.
