Not everyone is a numbers person. Some of us have an annoying auto-response mechanism in our brains that shuts everything down the minute a percentage symbol or decimal point pops up in front of our eyes, reducing our cerebral processing powers to that of a dead fish.

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As luck and career choices would have it, I had signed up for the task of making the public interested in a report full of… you guessed it… numbers.

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Blink.

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But these are no ordinary numbers. These are statistics reflective of the opinions of 21 million people—people I identify with, sharing space in a country I call home. The Sri Lanka Barometer is a nationally representative survey that tracks public opinion on social cohesion and reconciliation every two years. Its purpose? To inspire public discourse and inform policymaking for peace and reconciliation.

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For an island that has struggled through so much, searching for lasting unity among its multiple ethno-religious groups, the numbers in this report are more than mere data points. They hold the power to counter disinformation that has fractured communities time and time again, keeping Sri Lanka from progressing. So yes, these numbers matter.

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Blink.

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It’s 2024, and the latest SLB survey results have finally been published—after nearly a year of island-wide research, meticulous analysis, and careful fine-tooth combing by a passionate team of people who, thankfully, love numbers far more than I do. I marvel at their ability to generate data so precise that the margin of error is just 1.53%. That’s no small feat; it speaks volumes about the strength of the scientific Barometer tool, globally recognised as one of the best indicators of a country's progress in serving its people. Now comes the real challenge: bringing these numbers to life, making them resonate with the very people they represent.

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Because it’s one thing to present survey data to academics and policymakers who understand its value. It’s an entirely different challenge to make the average Sri Lankan—like me—see beyond the graphs and statistics and truly feel their impact. We need people to recognise the needs, the systemic gaps, the truth reflected in these collective perspectives, and to commit to advocating for social cohesion.

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But how?

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Blink.

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Then it hits us: the answers aren’t outside the data—they’re within it. Behind every percentage, every decimal point, lies a human story. A lived reality. A truth. Each graph and statistic is not just a number—it is a person’s experience, a community’s reflection, a tapestry of diverse voices. And if there’s one thing people like me absorb better than numbers, it’s stories.

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And so begins a whirlwind of activity—tracking down these stories, amplifying them, and sharing them with the world. Our plan? To create a public exhibition where human narratives and data merge into a compelling, impactful presentation of the Sri Lanka Barometer’s 2023 survey report. We set off like bullets, travelling across the country, venturing into every province in search of voices willing to share their experiences.

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Blink.

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At first, we brace ourselves for the challenge of convincing people to share their stories publicly. But we couldn’t have been more wrong. From the North to the South, East to West—everywhere we go, there are hopeful smiles, eager tales waiting to be told. Strangers introduce us to others who, in turn, introduce us to more. This web of connections, this boundless generosity—it’s quintessentially Sri Lankan.

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And the stories? Oh, the stories.

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Each one adds a profound dimension to the numbers in our report. Each one holds the magic of human experience—testimonies of resilience, transformation, and the unyielding spirit of a people navigating the complexities of post-war life.

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We hear the awe-inspiring recollections of the Ex-Bishop of Jaffna, speaking to the gap between the demand for reconciliation and the slow pace of progress.¹ We feel the frustration of a group of displaced indigenous women in the East, whose lived realities painfully mirror the limited access to basic services.² We share the frustration of fishermen in Matara, whose struggles to sustain their livelihoods are starkly reflected in the rising lived poverty index.³ And we witness the joy of a woman community leader in Negombo, fostering forgiveness and compassion among different religious and ethnic groups—a living testament to the power of healing and the importance of dealing with the past.⁴

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Nearly 50 stories, gathered over 10 days, captured through the lens of an iPhone. No fancy cameras needed—these stories shine in their own light.

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What an adventure it is—wading through paddy fields with farmers, chasing a cycling geriatric justice of the peace, trudging through beach sands behind fishermen, laughing with a puppeteer, puffing up mountains for deep conversations with estate workers, engaging in intense discussions with a souvenir vendor selling manifestation crystals by a giant waterfall. Every moment is raw, real, and pulsating with the spirit of Sri Lanka.

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Blink.

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Back in Colombo, the daunting task begins—whittling 50 stories down to just 26 for display. How do we choose? Each account matters, each voice deserves to be heard. We debate, deliberate, agonise over the selection. But at last, after much back-and-forth, we settle on the final lineup and begin shaping the exhibition.

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Bit by bit, story by story, panel by panel, ‘Sri Lanka Speaks’ comes to life. What was once just an idea becomes a tangible, powerful experience—a space where visitors come face to face with the people behind the statistics. Their life-sized portraits glow under carefully positioned lights, their eyes inviting you into their truths. With each story read, each data visualisation absorbed, visitors begin to ‘hear’ the multilingual voices of Sri Lankans, understanding the roots of perspectives that shape the nation’s pathway to peace and social cohesion.

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Blink.

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December 2024. The exhibition setup is in full swing. Long hours, sleepless nights, inevitable technical hiccups. The perfectionists in us agonise over the angle of the seventh lightbox. The custodians in us triple-check every word for accuracy. The professionals in us trust the process. And yet, more than anything, we are proud. So very proud.

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Blink.

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The doors open. The public steps in. The Sri Lanka Barometer is more than just research—it is a tool for nation-building, a labour of love. Seeing students huddle in animated discussions over the data, witnessing visitors connect deeply with the stories, observing the curiosity, the nods of recognition—it all validates our efforts.

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And as our volunteer university students guide visitors through the exhibition with passion equal to our own, we know: we’ve done it. We’ve made numbers matter.

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I can’t believe it.

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Blink.

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And yet… I can.

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References:

1 - While the national mean score for demand of reconciliation stands at 7.9 in 2023, progress of reconciliation lags behind with a national mean score of 6.0 (both scores and all following scores are indicated on a scale from 0 to 10).

2 - The national mean score of access to basic services in the rural sector in 2023 stands at 5.9 out of 10.

3 - The Lived Poverty Index in the Southern Province has more than doubled from a mean score of 1.8 in 2020 to 3.5 in 2023.

4 - Nationally, the mean score on the importance of dealing with the past has increased slightly from 7.5 in 2020 to 7.7 in 2023.

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Shanuki de Alwis is a development communications and advocacy professional and the Technical Lead, Communications at the Strengthening Social Cohesion and Peace in Sri Lanka (SCOPE) program, responsible for communications and outreach initiatives by the Sri Lanka Barometer. She is passionate about designing impactful campaigns that benefit positive social change through creative storytelling.

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