The late Junius Richard Jayewardene, universally known as JR, was a colossal presence on the Sri Lankan political landscape in the second half of the 20th century. Few leaders shaped the institutional architecture, economic direction, and political culture of post-independence Sri Lanka as decisively as he did. Whether admired or criticised, he cannot be ignored.

In ‘The JR I Disliked,’ Imthiaz Bakeer Markar offers a deeply personal reflection on the man he once opposed and later came to respect. A key figure in the United National Party (UNP) from 1970 onward, Imthiaz shared much of JR’s political philosophy in his later years. Yet the relationship was not always one of admiration.

I have known Imthiaz since our schooldays at Ananda College, where his political ambitions were already evident. The well-known rivalry between Dudley Senanayake and JR shaped an entire era within the UNP. When disagreements arose between the two leaders, Imthiaz aligned himself with Dudley. That early positioning gives added resonance to the book’s title. 

Politics, however, is rarely static. Over time, he developed an appreciation for JR’s intellect, resolve, and strategic clarity – hence ‘The JR I Disliked’ becomes, in many respects, an account of reassessment and evolution.

This booklet, drawn from a lecture delivered at the J.R. Jayewardene Centre, is largely a favourable portrait.

It highlights JR’s political foresight, his role in ushering in economic liberalisation, and his determination to reposition Sri Lanka within a globalising world. Imthiaz writes with the warmth of one who has reflected long and carefully on a complex figure.

Yet, like every statesman of consequence, JR had shortcomings. These receive only brief mention, notably in a short paragraph under ‘Economic Progression’. One wishes this aspect had been expanded. 

The time has surely come to examine not only the triumphs but also the shadows of his tenure.

Did JR do enough to address the mounting ethnic tensions that would later engulf the country in prolonged conflict? Was the decision to disenfranchise Sirimavo Bandaranaike politically prudent or democratically corrosive? Was he, despite his strategic brilliance, a divisive figure? And has the executive presidency – with its concentration of power, introduced under his 1978 Constitution – ultimately served Sri Lanka well?

These are not peripheral questions. They are central to understanding his legacy.

It is, of course, natural that a memoir written by a fellow politician will incline towards generosity rather than forensic critique. Yet Imthiaz is, in my considered view, among the most decent and principled politicians Sri Lanka has produced. That may sound like a sweeping statement, but I do not make it lightly. 

I have observed his political journey over decades – the uncompromising stands he has taken at difficult moments, his willingness to dissent when conscience required it, and his consistent adherence to principle over expediency.

For that reason, his reflections on JR carry weight. They are not those of a sycophant, but of a man who once disagreed, reconsidered, and ultimately chose respect.

I enjoyed reading ‘The JR I Disliked’. It is thoughtful, measured, and sincere. At the same time, it invites a broader conversation – one that Sri Lanka must continue to have – about power, responsibility, and the burdens borne by transformative leaders.

(The writer is a recipient of the Order of Australia [AM] and an Adjunct Professor at the School of Law, University of Notre Dame in Sydney, Australia)

(The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect the official position of this publication)