(Written by the late Lakshmi Nimalasuriya in July 1986 and published to mark Lucille’s 40th death anniversary)

She was a special friend. We first met when she was president and I was honorary secretary of a voluntary organization. We worked together in great harmony. She was a person of outstanding merit and enmeshed in dreams and goals which she pursued with unflagging zeal.

Her wealth and position made no impact of exclusiveness, nor the advantages she had as a politician’s wife make her dominating.

She was intelligent, receptive and warm hearted and an indispensable member of the All-Ceylon Buddhist Women’s Association and the All-Ceylon Buddhist Congress. She had the ability to respond to any situation and act with confidence – the criterion of leadership.

She was invited to serve on national councils sponsored by the government and was successful in redistributing the allocation of grants which had continued to be unequal and favoured. She was an active member of the Inner Wheel Club adept at fund-raising and was in great demand. She worked long hours in preparation and enlisted all she knew to make the Flag Days successful. She wooed the wives of diplomats for charity performances and the press for publicity. By her tireless efforts she enriched the ever-depleting coffers of these voluntary organizations.

The spiritual growth of young people was a subject close to her heart. She initiated the Youth Forum of the ACBC. She was indeed a happy mother at the time of her death as all her children had grown up to become good citizens.

She was a gifted and versatile person who could sing, write, draw, paint, design, sew and make lovely handicrafts with effortless ease. So, be it an important occasion like her children’s weddings, or mundane functions, fetes, annual general meetings, or at a simple pinkama in the temple or nunnery, or on a sacred day, her lovely creations which she spent hours in making in silent enjoyment would add that splash of gaiety and festivity which delighted us. She told me she learnt this love of decoration from her father who was an eminent Buddhist worker. Underlying all her work was her dedication to the Buddha Sasana.

The death of her teenage daughter early in life, and the death of her husband, who pre-deceased her by a few years, left her inconsolable and she with great difficulty reconciled herself to their loss.

She relives again in memory – Here she comes, a winsome smile on her lovely face, of graceful stature, her wavy hair drawn back, her favourite throatlet around her neck; with friendly charm, her hand out-stretched to help and bound to a generous heart, so she rightly claimed her name of endearment – she was to all Lucilla akka, sister Lucille.

May she soon attain her goal – the end of suffering – Nibbana.

A leadership crisis that exposes the strategic fault lines of Ukraine’s war effort—and the competing imperatives of domestic command, Western pressure, and battlefield reality.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s abrupt dismissal of Defence Minister Mykhailo Fedorov and his broader cabinet reshuffle have exposed a deep fracture within Ukraine’s wartime power structure. This extends far beyond personalities and into the strategic orientation of the state itself. What is unfolding is not merely a bureaucratic dispute but a crisis of command in a country prosecuting a high intensity, NATO-supported war against Russia.

On 16 July, protests broke out in Kyiv demanding the removal of Commander in Chief Oleksandr Syrskyi and the reinstatement of Fedorov. Smaller demonstrations occurred in Odessa, Lviv, Kharkiv, Lutsk, Dnipro, and other cities. These protests, which have continued for a week, signal a rupture within the prowar bloc that has sustained the Zelensky administration since 2022.

Antiwar sentiment did not drive the demonstrations, in which the “usual suspects” of US-backed “Colour Revolutions” took part. In this case, veterans, territorial defence networks, and upper middleclass “civil society” actors, who remain committed to the war’s continuation. Their demand for Fedorov’s reinstatement reflects a belief that Zelensky has lost operational coherence and strategic clarity. Placards bearing Fedorov’s name were, in effect, endorsements of escalating long range warfare against Russia, despite the catastrophic human toll already borne by both sides.

The political shock waves have reverberated through Ukraine’s Western patrons. The Mayor of Kyiv, Vitaly Klitschko, a major player in the 2014 “Maidan Coup” who is aligned with German strategic interests, condemned the firing publicly as a “big mistake,” while major Western media outlets described the move as “destabilising.” Behind the scenes, officials in Washington and Brussels viewed the sudden change with alarm. Such reactions reveal the degree to which Fedorov had become embedded in Western military technical planning, particularly in the domain of drone warfare, where Ukraine’s operations increasingly intersect with NATO intelligence and logistical support.

This conflict has emerged precisely as Ukraine intensifies drone strikes deep inside Russian territory and escalates operations against Crimea. Fedorov, appointed only six months ago, became the face of this strategy, celebrated by Western media as a “drone warfare mastermind” and criticised domestically for sidelining artillery procurement. His approach aligned closely with NATO’s interest in testing and refining asymmetric strike capabilities against Russia.

Zelensky’s subsequent hints that he may reconsider the decision underscore the precariousness of his position. His authority now rests on a fragile balance between Western expectations, domestic military factions, and a society exhausted by mobilisation. His consultations with both Syrskyi and Fedorov suggest an attempt to reassert control over a command structure that is no longer unified.

Fedorov’s postdismissal revelations sharpen the picture. His claim that Syrskyi and Chief of the General Staff Andrii Hnatov blocked reform initiatives systematically, and that Syrskyi enabled corruption, points to a structural clash between two models of warfare. The Western media has analysed the row as one in which Fedorov represents a Westernaligned, technologydriven paradigm emphasising drones, automation, and longrange strikes. It portrays Syrskyi as embodying an entrenched Sovietera command culture, reliant on artillery, mass mobilisation, and hierarchical control. Zelensky’s decision to side with Syrskyi is presented as a political calculation, preserving the loyalty of the traditional military establishment at the expense of the “reformist” faction.

However, Fedorov’s political alliances complicate this narrative. His cultivation of farright networks, including neo Nazi blogger Serhii Sternenko, reveals the darker undercurrents of Ukraine’s wartime coalition. Sternenko’s role in the 2014 Odessa massacre underscores how extremist actors continue to intersect with state structures, especially in moments of institutional fragmentation.

In actual fact, the power struggle reflects a contradiction between two elite strategies for managing subordination. Ukraine is a subaltern national state embedded in a wider hierarchy of imperialist power. Fedorov is tied to global centi-billionaires and Western technology platforms. His camp can look “more Western” because it is more integrated into transnational circuits of capital and war-tech. The apparent modernity of that model still carries dependency: it improves efficiency while deepening reliance on external monopolies. The war state becomes dependent on foreign-owned infrastructure, satellite systems, software, and elite relationships, which gives external capital leverage over military coordination and political priorities.

Syrskyi, by contrast, is closer to an older form of domestic elite power: the military-bureaucratic order linked to native oligarchic interests, procurement channels, and patronage. This is a more nationally rooted fraction of the bourgeois bloc, but not necessarily a more independent one, because Ukrainian oligarchic power has long been intertwined with Western finance, arms flows, and state restructuring.

The struggle between Syrskyi and Fedorov therefore reflects competing modes of dependency, and (although clearly the Western establishment favours the latter) not a clean split between “national” and “Western” camps. One route passes through transnational tech capital and managerial reform; the other through entrenched oligarchic-military command and domestic networks of influence. The clash is therefore not an isolated dispute but a symptom of an intra-elite struggle over how Ukraine should be governed as a dependent war economy. Neither side points beyond bourgeois rule; they are different management styles of the same subordinated state form.

Taken together, the crisis reflects a deeper geopolitical reality: Ukraine’s war effort is no longer anchored by a unified elite consensus. Instead, it is being pulled apart by competing military doctrines, Western strategic pressures, corruption scandals, and the exhaustion of a society asked to sustain indefinite mobilisation.

Vinod Moonesinghe, formerly chair of the Ceylon German Technical Training Institute and of the National Institute for Language Education and Training, serves as Convenor of the Asia Progress Forum.

By Vinod Moonesinghe ✍️

I never learned how to communicate my emotions properly, even with my closest friends. It was only when a friend of mine called to tell me about the immense pressure and struggles he was experiencing that I realised how deeply ingrained this issue truly is in us. We are all taught, whether subliminally or explicitly, that expressing our emotions and seeking help are weaknesses. Even when talking to those close to us, it is the norm to keep our feelings secondary. That phone call revealed something I had sensed but never named: young men like us are experiencing an epidemic of loneliness, and our society has left us to face it alone.

Male loneliness and disengagement among young men aged 15 to 29 has emerged as a critical social and political crisis. As a young man, I have witnessed how pervasive disconnection isolates my peers, leaving them vulnerable to harmful online influences. The lack of emotional support systems, positive male role models, and societal permission for vulnerability drives young men toward toxic ideologies that further increase their isolation and threaten societal connection. This failure is a deeply systemic one, and it demands urgent action.

I think often about that phone call from my friend. Here was someone I had known for years, someone I considered close, and yet neither of us had ever truly discussed what we were going through. We had talked about sports, school, and superficial matters, but never the weight we carried. When he finally opened up, I realised I had been waiting for permission to do the same. This is the tragedy of male socialisation: we are surrounded by others who share our struggles, yet we are conditioned to suffer in silence. The statistics confirm what I experienced personally: we are a generation in crisis.

I am 17 years old, and I write this as a Sri Lankan-American trying to make sense of two worlds. My father was born in Colombo, and my grandparents, after 35 years in Washington, D.C., returned to Sri Lanka a decade ago, drawn by a homeland that continues to shape our family’s identity. On a visit to see them, we made a pilgrimage to Kataragama, one of the holiest sites on the island. Watching the devotees there, people from every background, every faith, my grandmother spoke to me about anukampā. It’s a Sinhala word that’s hard to translate exactly. She described it as what happens when your heart trembles because someone else is suffering. Not pity, not sympathy from a distance, but actually feeling it with them, and being moved to do something about it.

That idea stayed with me. When I think about what young men need, what I needed when I was struggling and didn’t know how to ask for help, it’s exactly that. Not judgment. Not being told to toughen up. Just someone whose heart trembles with ours, who sees our pain and responds. This essay argues that the epidemic of male loneliness stems from systemic failures in education and community support, pushing young men toward radical online communities. We need schools, governments, and communities to respond with the kind of compassion my grandmother described, and we need it now.

A Global Epidemic in Numbers

Recent data underscores the severity of male loneliness. A 2021 survey by the American Enterprise Institute found that 15 percent of men report having no close friends, a sharp rise from just 3 percent in 1990 (Cox, 2021). For young men aged 18 to 29, this isolation is particularly acute, with 27 percent reporting no meaningful social connections (American Enterprise Institute, 2021). This disconnection correlates with declining mental health: the National Institute of Mental Health reports that men aged 18 to 25 have suicide rates three times higher than their female counterparts (NIMH, 2023). These statistics reveal a generation of young men struggling to find belonging in a society that often equates emotional expression with weakness.

The World Health Organization’s 2025 Commission on Social Connection confirms that loneliness has become a defining public health crisis of our era. The WHO reports that one in six people worldwide is affected by loneliness, with the phenomenon linked to an estimated 871,000 deaths annually, more than 100 deaths every hour (WHO, 2025). Young people bear a disproportionate burden: between 17 and 21 percent of individuals aged 13 to 29 report feeling lonely, with the highest rates among teenagers (WHO, 2025). Gallup’s 2025 data reveals that 25 percent of American men aged 15 to 34 experience daily loneliness, significantly higher than the 18 percent national average and notably higher than their female peers, who also report 18 percent (Gallup, 2025). The United States stands out among wealthy nations: nowhere else is the gap between young male loneliness and the rest of the population as pronounced.

The Absence of Role Models

I attribute this crisis to the absence of positive, accessible male role models. Traditional notions of masculinity emphasise stoicism and competition, leaving young men without guidance on emotional health or self-awareness. Schools and communities rarely provide structured environments for boys to develop emotional literacy, unlike programs often available for girls, such as mentorship initiatives or social-emotional learning curricula tailored to female experiences (Brooks, 2022). This systemic oversight leaves young men to navigate their emotional lives alone, often turning to the internet for answers.

The cultural norms that stigmatise male vulnerability are not accidental; they are reinforced from childhood through adulthood. Phrases like “man up” and “boys don’t cry” communicate a clear message: emotional expression is weakness (Pollack, 1998). Moreover, mental health services remain inaccessible due to cost or stigma, with only 27 percent of men seeking therapy compared to 45 percent of women (American Psychological Association, 2021). Blaming individuals for their isolation overlooks the systemic failures that leave young men without the tools or spaces to address their emotional needs.

The Lure of Toxic Online Communities

In the absence of real-world support, young men are drawn to online communities, particularly those within the “Red Pill” movement, which promise belonging but often promote harmful

ideologies. Influencers like Andrew Tate or “Red Pill” podcast hosts offer messages of discipline and strength that resonate with isolated young men.

They are effective in their messaging because they feel relatable to millions of men across the country. Unlike celebrities and professional athletes, who can feel distant, these influencers are often everyday people, making their messages more direct and effective. Their content creates a one-on-one experience that speaks individually to every viewer and listener. As an example, when a multi-millionaire singer addresses their audience about an issue, it can feel impersonal and disconnected because their message is directed to hundreds of millions of people. On the other hand, when a young man can call into an influencer’s show, be heard and his views validated, this creates a powerful sense of belonging. It becomes less like watching content and more like talking to your friends.

However, the danger lies in the unchecked spread of misogyny, conspiracy theories, and radical beliefs. A 2022 study by the Anti-Defamation League found that 60 percent of young men exposed to “Red Pill” content reported increased hostility toward women, with many endorsing views that frame vulnerability as weakness (ADL, 2022). These influencers exploit the emotional void in young men’s lives, offering a sense of community while reinforcing the very isolation they claim to address. By presenting their ideologies as undeniable truths, they radicalize vulnerable audiences, with real-world consequences.

Political Ramifications

The political ramifications of this crisis are undeniable. In the 2024 U.S. presidential election, Donald Trump secured 56 percent of the young male vote, a significant increase from 41 percent in 2020 (AP VoteCast, 2024). This shift aligns with the rise of far-right movements, including MAGA, which capitalise on young men’s disillusionment by promoting narratives of dominance and control. Political scientist John Sides argues that these movements fill an emotional void by offering a sense of purpose and identity to disaffected men (Sides, 2024). Meanwhile, progressive voices often dismiss young men’s struggles as entitlement, failing to engage them with empathy or provide alternative spaces for connection. This imbalance allows far-right ideologies to dominate the narrative, further alienating young men from constructive societal participation.

Sri Lanka’s Parallel Challenge

This crisis is not confined to American shores. Sri Lanka, a nation that has endured decades of civil conflict, a devastating tsunami, and recent economic upheaval, faces its own youth mental health emergency. A WHO Global School-based Health Survey found that 30.8 percent of Sri Lankan adolescents report loneliness, while 40.3 percent experienced some form of mental health difficulty in the year preceding the survey (Rasalingam et al., 2022). The data is stark:

20.2 percent of adolescents experienced anxiety, and 3.7 percent reported suicidal ideation.

A separate study published in BJPsych International revealed that 9.5 percent of Sri Lankan school children aged 13 to 17 had seriously considered attempting suicide, with nearly 39 percent experiencing bullying within the preceding month (Wickramaseckara Rajapakshe et

al., 2023). Sri Lanka has historically had one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and while pesticide regulation has reduced overall numbers, the underlying mental health crisis, particularly among young people, remains insufficiently addressed. The country has approximately 170 board-certified psychiatrists serving a population of over 22 million, with adolescent mental health services only recently beginning to develop.

The parallels between American and Sri Lankan young men are instructive. Both face traditional cultural expectations around masculinity that discourage emotional expression. Both navigate economic uncertainty and rapidly changing social landscapes. Both are increasingly exposed to global digital platforms that can either connect or isolate, and both deserve better than what their societies currently offer. In both countries, the old ways of raising boys, telling them to be tough, to hide their feelings, to figure it out on their own, are failing a new generation.

What Compassion Looks Like in Practice

When my grandmother explained anukampā to me, she wasn’t giving a philosophy lecture. She was telling me how to be a good person. Your heart should tremble when you see someone suffering, she said. Then, you do something. That’s the difference between feeling bad for someone and actually caring: one keeps you comfortable, the other demands action.

To address this crisis, society must prioritise emotional literacy and community-building for young men. Schools should implement mandatory social-emotional learning programmes tailored to boys, teaching communication and vulnerability as strengths, not weaknesses. Community organisations can create mentorship programmes pairing young men with positive role models who model healthy masculinity: men who demonstrate that strength includes the courage to be vulnerable, that leadership includes the wisdom to listen, and that success includes the capacity to form meaningful relationships.

Additionally, policymakers must invest in accessible mental health resources, reducing financial and cultural barriers to care. The WHO’s 2025 report emphasises that solutions exist at national, community, and individual levels, from policy reform to strengthening social infrastructure like parks, libraries, and community centres where genuine human connection can flourish (WHO, 2025). These interventions can counteract the allure of toxic online spaces by providing young men with real-world support and belonging.

Sri Lanka, with its deep Buddhist roots, has something to offer to this global conversation. The concept of anukampā isn’t just a religious idea, it’s a practical one. It asks us to feel what others feel and then act on it. I call on leaders in Sri Lanka and around the world, teachers, politicians, religious figures, and community elders, to take this seriously. Young men are not a problem to be solved. They are people who are hurting, and they deserve to be met with hearts that tremble alongside theirs.

A Personal Plea

Young men’s loneliness isn’t a personal failing; it’s a societal one. The concept of “just toughen up” no longer works. This perspective ignores the structural barriers that discourage emotional expression. When people tell us to simply try harder, they overlook the fact that we were never given the tools to begin with.

What gave my friend the courage to reach out that day? What would have happened if he hadn’t? How many other young men are carrying that same weight in silence, waiting for permission that may never come? I have seen how policy and community engagement can make a difference. But policy alone is not enough. We need a cultural shift and a willingness to actually feel the pain of this generation and respond to it.

By neglecting to provide young men with emotional tools and supportive communities, we drive them toward radical ideologies that perpetuate division and harm. The evidence, from rising isolation rates to political shifts, demands urgent action. By fostering emotional literacy, creating mentorship opportunities, and challenging outdated notions of masculinity, society can empower young men to build meaningful connections and reject toxic influences.

If we fail to act, we risk creating a more divided and hostile world. But if we respond with real compassion, if our hearts tremble with the suffering of this generation and we are moved to action, we offer young men what they most need: the knowledge that their struggles are seen, their suffering is shared, and they are not alone. That is what my friend gave me when he called. That is what I hope to give others, and that is what I ask of you.

References

American Enterprise Institute. (2021). The Decline of Friendship in America. Retrieved from AEI.org

American Psychological Association. (2021). Mental Health Service Utilization by Gender. Retrieved from APA.org

Anti-Defamation League. (2022). Online Hate and Its Impact on Young Men. Retrieved from ADL.org AP VoteCast. (2024). 2024 Presidential Election Voter Demographics. Associated Press.

Brooks, D. (2022). The Boy Crisis: Why Our Boys Are Struggling and What We Can Do About It. Basic Books.

Cox, D. A. (2021). Men’s Social Circles Are Shrinking. American Enterprise Institute.

Gallup. (2025). Younger Men in the U.S. Among the Loneliest in West. Gallup World Poll. Retrieved from https://news.gallup.com/poll/690788/younger-men-among-loneliest-west.aspx

National Institute of Mental Health. (2023). Suicide Statistics by Demographics. Retrieved from NIMH.nih.gov

Pollack, W. (1998). Real Boys: Rescuing Our Sons from the Myths of Boyhood. Random House.

Rasalingam, A., et al. (2022). Assessment of mental health problems among adolescents in Sri Lanka: Findings from the cross-sectional Global School-based Health Survey. Health Science Reports, 5(6), e886. Retrieved from https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9576112/

Sides, J. (2024). The Political Appeal of Far-Right Movements to Young Men. Journal of Political Science, 45(3), 112–130.

Smith, R. (2023). The Rise of Red Pill Influencers and Their Impact on Youth. Social Media Studies, 12(4), 89–104.

Wickramaseckara Rajapakshe, O. B., Mohan, M., & Singh, S. P. (2023). Development of adolescent mental health services in Sri Lanka. BJPsych International, 20(2), 41–43. Retrieved from https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10895478/

World Health Organization. (2025). WHO Commission on Social Connection: Global Report on Loneliness and Social Isolation. Geneva: WHO. Retrieved from https://www.who.int/news/item/30-06-2025-social-connection-linked-to-improved-heath-and-reduced-risk-of-early-death

by Nikhil de Silva ✍️