Connect with us

Features

The migration of S. Thomas’ College from Mutwal to Mt. Lavinia

Published

on

R.S. de Saram was one of the first boys Hulugalle got to know when he entered St Thomas' College Mutwal in 1908

(Excerpted from Selected Journalism by HAJ Hulugalle)

The Editor has invited me to write something about the migration of St. Thomas’ College 50 years ago from Mutwal to Mount Lavinia. To do so I would have to begin at the beginning of my connection with the College.

I joined the Mutwal school as a boarder in January 1908. Among the boys I came to know then were Arthur Ranasingha, always a keen and diligent scholar, and R. S. de Saram, already showing the promise which made him the best all-rounder, in work, sports and leadership, produced by S. Thomas’.

The numbers of the Upper School and Lower School together in those days could not have been more than 400, and Warden Stone kept track of every boy. There were probably a 150 boarders in the four large dormitories and Winchester which housed the smaller boys. E. Navaratnam, perhaps the greatest of Thomian house-masters, wrote in the Centenary Number of the school magazine that “the boarding house system, then as now, was the focal point around which all College activities revolved.” This was because the boarders came from all parts of the Island, and formed a compact and disciplined community.

The dormitory masters were, besides Mr. Navaratnam, two Englishmen, the Rev. Handel Smith and C. W. B. Arnold, and O. P. Gooneratne. Miss Treason was Matron and was also in charge of Winchester. Many of those who were in the Matron’s dormitory, like Sam Elapata, Roy Jayasundara and Gordon Jan, are dead. A close friend of over 60 years, Leo Goonewardene, kinsman and near neighbour at Kurunegala, had a school career parallel to mine. He still preserves the elegant stance which distinguished his batting when he played for the College. He rarely misses Old Boys’ Day or the Royal-Thomian cricket match.

Mr. Christie-David, my first class-master, was something of an artist. He set a standard in map-making of which the Survey Department would not be ashamed and which some of the boys managed to reach, no doubt with help from their elders. He believed in the tonic effects of an occasional caning and sent up a few boys every Friday afternoon to stand in the line in the Warden’s study and receive their medicine. I had only a single experience of this treatment with a modest dose of four cuts.

Our new science master, C. W. B. Arnold, taught us enough chemistry in the Upper Third (fifth standard) to cope with any paper set for the Junior Cambridge (eighth standard) and laid a good foundation which stood in good stead in later years.

Mr. R. W. Evans was the head master of the Lower School, and he saw to it that no boy was issued a new exercise book unless the used one, which was handed in, had been neatly kept. He was a good musician and played the organ at the Cathedral which was in a part of the College premises. The boarders attended matins there every morning before breakfast.

Both Arnold and Evans afterwards joined business firms and prospered. The Rev. G. B. Ekanayake, the Principal of the Divinity School, was part of the College establishment. Warden Stone, the Sub-Warden (first the Rev. O. J. C. Beven), Mr. Ekanayake and sometimes Bishop E. A. Copleston, preached the sermons at Sunday evensong which were well above the heads of most of the boys.

Before I reached the Upper School I left St. Thomas’ and joined my brother at Trinity. Four generations of my family have now been to Trinity. When I went there the Principal was A.G. Fraser, a dynamic Scot who, like Arnold of Rugby, believed in a muscular Christianity. There were more activities at Trinity than at St. Thomas’ with perhaps less emphasis on scholarship even though Trinity had some superb teachers like W.S. Senior, N.P. Campbell and Lemuel. Life was less cloistered there and one got to know more about what was going on in the country.

In the midst of many distractions my work suffered. So I went back to St. Thomas’, to work harder and try to catch up with boys from whom I had parted company a few years earlier. By their standard of scholarship, I was gawky. My Latin was mediocre and I could not construe Virgil with the ease of those, like L.W. de Silva, who had been taught by C.V. Pereira and the Warden himself. How I wish I had had the benefit of the discipline exercised by C.V. Pereira, Navaratnam and O.P. Gooneratne!

I had no trouble with Mathematics and Science, and did not feel disgraced when I was placed below Ranasinha and R. S. de Saram in the Arndt Memorial English Prize for which I made a determined try. There was a crop of brilliant students in the College Form who had read widely. It was, for example said that E.B. Wikramanayake had read every book in the school library.

Many of the science students got distinctions in Latin in the Senior Cambridge Examination. Latin was a sine qua non in those days. The brighter boys had their eye on the English University Scholarships awarded on the results of the Inter Arts and Inter Science Examinations of the London University. To sit for them one had to pass the London Matriculation or gain an exemption from it, which meant passing in an extra language, ‘dead’ or `living’, and in most schools it was Latin. Every Thomian knew some Latin which was started very early. It was compulsory even in the Five A Form, a special enclave for non-scholars.

The story is told of S.J.K. Crowther, formerly Editor of the Ceylon Daily News”, of his first encounter with D.S. Senanayake, our first Prime Minister. Crowther was a new boy and at a test examination he turned to his burly neighbour, whose name he did not know, and enquired surreptitiously how the Latin noun “res” was declined. Senanayake whispered: “yes, rem, yetis, rete.” When his paper was scrutinised by Mr. Handel Smith, Crowther was in no position to give the source of his error.

Some of the most famous teachers in Thomian history moved with the school from Mutwal to Mt. Lavinia; among them C. V. Pereira and Navaratnam (both old Trinitians), O. P. Gooneratne and H.J. Wijesinghe, (Royalists), Leonard Arndt, H.D. Jansz, E.S.D. Ohlmus and George Amarasinghe. The Sub-Warden, the Rev. P. L. Jansz, who had acquired the gift of tongues was a fascinating teacher. He knew more Sinhalese than the Sinhalese boys and more Tamil than the Tamil boys. In addition, he knew French, German, Italian, Spanish and Hebrew.

He was supposed to teach the Inter class English texts but he wandered into so many exciting fields of knowledge that the less diligent boys were never able to master their texts. George Amarasinghe, still hail and hearty in his eighties, was a great mathematics teacher, fully in the tradition of his predecessors like Warden Miller, J.R. Jayatilaka and T.N. Nathanielsz.

I was a prefect of Copleston House which was separated from the main precincts by a noisome jungle. Mr. H. J. Wijesinghe, our dormitory master was Captain in command of the Cadet Corp. He kept a pony which he used to ride at the head of the column during route marches. In his absence some of the more daring boys initiated themselves into the art of horseback-riding. C. H. Davidson was one of the boys in Copleston House in my time.

It is sometimes said, especially by those of the older generation, that a Sixth Form or College Form boy 50 years ago had a better education than the average undergraduate of today. Those who left after the Inter had no difficulty in getting the London degree by private study. The Colombo University College was started in 1920 and the University twenty years later. Most of us were quite ignorant of Ceylon history and proficiency in Sinhalese and Tamil were rare. But one could say with confidence that the discipline of the subjects taught, and taught with thoroughness, had a greater character-forming influence than the loaded syllabuses of today. A boy sitting for the Junior Cambridge, for example, was more at home with the English Language than many a graduate of today.

Even the most ardent nationalism must now realize that, under modern conditions, every educated person needs to have a command of English or other world language which unlocks the treasure house of knowledge and which neither Sinhalese or Tamil will be able to do for a long time to come. Rich in certain respects, our national languages are inadequate to meet the demands of higher education, especially in science and technology. There is thus no alternative to an effective bilingualism.

It is noteworthy that the bigots who would exclude English are the first to ensure that their own children get it! With English as the medium of instruction, the schools were available to surmount the barriers of language and geography. Communal differences were dissolved and it meant nothing that a boy came from Batticaloa or Galle. The price paid for this unity was the gulf that was created between the elite and the masses.

Yet, St. Thomas’ produced many of the political leaders of the first half of the century. They were adept at mixing with the masses and found no difficulty in haranguing them in the language which the populace understood. Indeed they seemed to have learnt something from Cicero and Demosthenes in the demagogue’s art.

There is of course much greater control of education by the government now, and the schools are no longer autonomous. The official policy seems to be to gear the pace of the caravan to the speed of the slowest camel. The flow of brilliant European teachers has been arrested. Classes are often unwieldy in number. Good books in the national languages are few. The spectre of unemployment leads to early specialization but science teachers are lacking.

In these circumstances, if a boy does not wish to be left behind he must not only be prepared to work hard; he must plan his program of studies with the best advice available to him. Unless this challenge is met successfully, the justification for private schools will disappear.

(This was first published in the S. Thomas’ College Jubilee Number in 1968)

R.S. de Saram was one of the first boys Hulugalle got to know when he entered St Thomas’ College Mutwal in 1908.



Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

Regime change and the vacuum:Strategic lessons of Iraq and Libya

Published

on

Post-Gaddafi Civil war: the rebellion triggered by the arab spring of 2011 soon toppled the regime of Muammar Gaddafi. the power vacuum created by Gaddafi’s ouster has been exploited by local actors, as well as extraneous actors, with the only intention of making libya a war theatre for proxy wars and political disintegration

by Col. (R) Nalin Herath

There is a question that the international community must periodically ask itself: What happens to a State after its regime has been ousted?

The question is particularly relevant when examining Iraq and Libya. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were authoritarian rulers. Their governments were associated with political repression, human-rights violations and the suppression of political opposition. None of this should be ignored or excused. But recognising the failures of authoritarian rule does not prevent us from asking another, equally important strategic question:

Did the removal of these regimes adequately prepare for what came next?

The experience of Iraq and Libya suggests that removing a ruler is considerably easier than replacing the political, administrative and security architecture around that ruler.

Danger of confusing regime change with State reconstruction

A state is more than its leader. It consists of institutions, security forces, civil servants, courts, political structures, infrastructure, economic systems and, perhaps most importantly, an accepted monopoly over the legitimate use of force. When an authoritarian system has concentrated enormous power around one individual, removing that individual can expose weaknesses that were previously hidden. The strategic mistake is to assume that once the dictator has gone, a democratic and stable state will naturally emerge. History does not support such an assumption. The aftermath of Iraq demonstrates this particularly clearly. Following the 2003 invasion, the Coalition Provisional Authority issued Order No. 2, formally dissolving the Iraqi Ministry of Defence and the Iraqi Army, among other security institutions. A US congressional report later documented the enormous consequences of this decision, including the disappearance of hundreds of thousands of military personnel from the institutional framework of the state. Whatever the intentions behind the decision, the strategic consequence was that an established security structure had to be rebuilt while the country was simultaneously experiencing political upheaval and growing violence. That is a dangerous combination.

Iraq: Removing the structure before building the replacement

Saddam Hussein’s government was unquestionably authoritarian. It also reflected a complicated sectarian and political structure in which members of the Sunni minority occupied disproportionate positions of power despite being a demographic minority. But the question for strategic planners should not simply be whether Saddam deserved to remain in power. The question should have been:

What institutional structure would replace the system once he was removed?

An army can be politically controlled without being politically representative. A bureaucracy can serve an authoritarian government while still providing essential state functions. A security institution can be reformed without necessarily being destroyed. The distinction between reforming institutions and eliminating institutions is therefore critical. The post-2003 experience demonstrated the consequences of institutional disruption. Security vacuums contributed to insurgency and instability, while the process of rebuilding Iraq’s security forces took place amid an increasingly deteriorating security environment. The lesson is not that authoritarian institutions should never be reformed. The lesson is that state capacity should not be casually destroyed without a credible replacement.

Libya: prosperity, authoritarianism and institutional fragility

Libya presents an even more complicated case. Gaddafi’s government was authoritarian and deeply personalised. Political freedom was severely restricted, and the security apparatus was deliberately structured around regime survival. Yet Libya, under Gaddafi, also used substantial oil revenues to fund education, healthcare, infrastructure and social services. World Bank data from around the end of the Gaddafi era show life expectancy reaching approximately 75 years by 2011, skilled attendance at birth at 100 percent and measles immunisation at 98 percent. This does not prove that Gaddafi’s system was politically legitimate. It demonstrates something different: economic and social outcomes can coexist with authoritarian political structures.

The Great Man-Made River illustrates the scale of Libya’s investment ambitions. The World Bank described the project as one of the world’s largest engineering schemes, involving thousands of kilometres of planned pipelines to transport water from deep desert aquifers toward the populated coastal belt. The original project was estimated at approximately US$ 25 billion over several phases. Again, this should not become nostalgia for dictatorship. It should become a lesson in state capacity.

What happened after Gaddafi?

The post-2011 experience is perhaps the clearest illustration of the vacuum problem. Libya did not simply move from dictatorship to a consolidated democratic state. Instead, competing armed groups, political factions and institutions emerged. A UN economic and social affairs analysis concluded that the fall of the Gaddafi regime exposed weak state institutions and that the post-Gaddafi period was characterised by the proliferation of armed militias and institutional fragmentation.

The World Bank has similarly described how the security vacuum allowed armed groups to expand, while attempts to integrate them into the formal security apparatus produced a hybrid system in which state institutions and powerful armed groups operated alongside one another. This is the heart of the lesson. The consequences of regime change were also evident in Libya. The 2012 Benghazi attack, later portrayed in 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, illustrated the security vacuum that emerged after Gaddafi’s fall. The collapse of central authority allowed militias and competing armed groups to fill the space left by weakened state institutions. The lesson is clear: removing a regime may achieve military victory, but without a credible plan to rebuild the state, victory can quickly become a security vacuum.

When the state withdraws, something else occupies the space. If the replacement is not a legitimate national institution, the vacuum can be filled by militias, tribes, ideological movements, criminal networks or competing political authorities. The vacuum does not remain empty.

Terrorism question

There is another uncomfortable issue. Authoritarian regimes frequently suppress political and armed movements through coercive security systems. When those systems disappear abruptly, previously contained organisations can find new operating space. This does not mean that dictatorship is an appropriate method of counterterrorism. It means that counterterrorism cannot be separated from State capacity. The international community therefore needs to distinguish between defeating a particular terrorist organisation and maintaining the institutional conditions that prevent multiple armed actors from competing for power. The destruction of one regime does not automatically eliminate the forces that created insecurity. Sometimes it creates an environment in which those forces multiply.

Strategic mistake: winning the war but losing the peace

Military intervention can have a clearly defined operational objective. State reconstruction does not. A military campaign may successfully remove a government in weeks or months. Building legitimate institutions can take decades.This creates a fundamental strategic asymmetry. The shorter the planning horizon for intervention, the greater the danger of a long-term vacuum. The international community therefore needs to think beyond the first question: How do we remove the regime?

It must ask: Who governs the country the next morning? Who controls the borders? Who controls the security forces? Who pays government employees? Who maintains electricity, water and hospitals? Who protects critical infrastructure? Who administers justice? Who prevents armed groups from becoming alternative governments? Who provides political legitimacy? And perhaps most importantly: Who possesses the authority to enforce the decisions of the new state? If there are no convincing answers, regime change is only the beginning of the problem.

The lesson should not be that the United States or its allies should never intervene. Nor should it be that Saddam Hussein or Muammar Gaddafi should be rehabilitated as models of governance. The lesson is more practical. Regime change must never be confused with state-building.

Before dismantling an established political order, external powers need a credible understanding of the institutions that will replace it. Security-sector reform should normally distinguish between individuals who must be removed and institutions that must be preserved. A national army may need reform. A ministry may need restructuring. A security service may need accountability and civilian oversight. But destroying institutional capacity without having an operational replacement can create consequences far beyond the original objective.

Wider geopolitical lesson

The consequences of Iraq and Libya did not remain within their borders. State fragmentation affects neighbouring countries, migration, organised crime, arms trafficking, terrorism, energy markets and regional power competition. In today’s interconnected world, a failed transition in one country can become a security problem for an entire region. That is why intervention planning should include not only military objectives but also political, economic, humanitarian and security-sector objectives. The most important planning document may therefore not be the operational plan for removing the regime. It may be the plan for Day One after the regime has disappeared.

History should not be written as a simple choice between dictatorship and democracy. The real strategic challenge is more complicated. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were dictators. Their governments committed serious abuses, and their populations had legitimate grievances. But the failures of authoritarian rule do not automatically justify the destruction of state institutions without a credible plan for rebuilding them. The experience of Iraq and Libya demonstrates a fundamental principle of international security: A political vacuum is not neutral space. Someone will fill it. If legitimate national institutions cannot fill that space, armed groups, sectarian interests, extremist organisations or foreign-backed factions may do so. The ultimate lesson for the United States, its allies and the wider international community is therefore straightforward:

Removing a regime may win the immediate battle. Building a legitimate, functioning and secure state determines whether the intervention succeeds in the long term. The world should learn to ask not only “How do we remove the dictator?”. It must also ask:

“What happens to the country when he is gone?”

That may be the most important strategic question of all.

(The writer is the Secretary General of the Ceylon Chamber of Shipping, former Director General of the Institute of National Security Studies (INSS), and former Spokesman of the Ministry of Defence. He is also a Non-Resident Fellow at the London Dialogue. His areas of expertise include international relations, geopolitics, maritime affairs, national security, economic policy, and strategic governance. He is a consultant at JITT Group and a member of World Pace Board.).

Continue Reading

Features

‘Death at the Sign of the Rook’

Published

on

Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 23

By Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha

As I have noted with regard to the adventures of John Rebus, I am indebted to Dinali Fernando and her husband Steve for whole hosts of thrillers. The latter strongly recommended Kate Atkinson when I borrowed four books. I wondered about this, for I had not been too impressed with her debut novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, which was amongst the entries I had to judge for the Eurasian section of the Commonwealth Writing Prize. Two decades later, I had forgotten what it had been about.

But I am glad Steve persuaded me to read her. Kate Atkinson is distinctively British, and Death at the Sign of the Rook is set in a country house and the surrounding village, and seems a modern descendant of the laidback Agatha Christies I so much enjoy.

There are, however, many differences in that we have a policeman who can go rogue, like Rebus, with again a female sidekick who has a mind of her own, again like Rebus. But Jackson Brodie has retired and set up as a private investigator, while Reggie, a young lady, is still in the police.

There is a lesbian couple living in the converted dairy of the manor house, as has occurred in Agatha Christie too, in A Murder is Announced. But they are peripheral to the story, unlike Ben, the brother of one of them who left the army after losing a leg in Afghanistan. When he turns up at the Manor House to shelter from a snowstorm, along with its chatelaine, Lady Milton, he is asked to answer the door as various characters turn up, including Jackson and Reggie, who then starts fantasising about him.

The others who turn up are two couples, one from America, who have paid for a murder weekend at the hotel. The family is impoverished, and has sold lots of pictures to survive, but most recently a Turner had been stolen, almost certainly by Lady Milton’s housekeeper Sophie, who vanished one night along with the picture. Reggie had been involved in that investigation, but there had been no trace of either picture or young lady.

Jackson Brodie suspects a connection between that theft and the one he has been called in to investigate, which has not been reported to the police. The picture hung opposite the bed of an old woman whose carer vanished after she died, along with it. Her children, adopted twins, have asked Jackson to investigate and also try to trace the carer, though he suspects something strange in that they did not go to the police.

Kate Atkinson

Brodie, in studying the stolen art, is also struck by the disappearance of a Rembrandt from a house in Scotland, along with a member of the cleaning staff. He thinks the three women might be the same one.

But Brodie’s assumption that the three women who vanished when valuable pictures did were identical would not have helped except that Beatrice, as she was also called, kept turning up, including to the funeral home where the old lady’s body was kept. And then that picture turned up, in the village church, and was found by the local vicar, Simon Cate, whose life story is also a prominent feature of the novel. He was an aspiring actor but then smitten by faith, and became a priest, but in time he lost his faith. His wife left him after the death of their son, and he is now in this backwater, where he feels he is of no use to anyone. But he has a great feel for living beings, and his most successful service has been one in which he blessed pets. And he was deeply concerned about the bees that Ben looks after for his sister and her wife.

He too staggers into the manor house in the midst of the storm, in which everyone concerned loses their way comprehensively. But amongst those Ben lets in is a man in a tracksuit with cuts and bruises, who then vanishes after he has been led to a bedroom, when Ben went in search of brandy. We soon work out that it is the escaped murderer about whom Reggie has been alerted.

Simon also turns up, through the back door, carrying the picture and also a gun, for he has found the dead body of one of his parishioners when he went to her house in search of his mobile phone. She had been shot and he had picked up the gun he found there. But he could not tell the police, for though he called he had lost his voice, and for the last few days had communicated only through writing.

This chaotic mix of characters at the manor house is further complicated by the group of players putting on the murder mystery play though some members have either cried off or died before reaching the venue. So, there is much doubling up and confusion over who is an actor and who is not.

The grand now largely empty rooms of the manor house, and its various odd passages and multiple doors, make it a splendid set for the lunacy that runs on and on. Reggie finds herself in a pantry Atkinsonwith a dead body, though this turns out to be the nanny who fell down the stairs and was put there by Lady Milton’s younger son. And there is high drama on the roof when the murderer nearly kills Ben, but he is saved by Reggie, and when he tries to kill Brody with an axe, he is shot by Beatrice, who has been the maid who served at the dinner before the murder mystery play, and explains to Brody how she has managed all her thefts.

And then in the melee, she vanishes on a motorbike, along with the daughter of the old lady’s adopted daughter, the only person who seemed to grieve at the funeral, and to whom the old lady had left her house in a codicil to her will, which her children have not known about. She leaves the picture to the carer, but it is brought to Simon Cate as he lies in hospital, recovering from a heart attack which adds confusion to the play.

Wonderfully convoluted, but all very clear, despite the headlong pace of the book and its shifts from one scene to another, from one character to another (or rather combinations of them) and from one-time span to another. A writer and a detective well worth looking out for. e more books by her on Dinali’s shelves.

Continue Reading

Features

Safety, security and teamwork in aviation

Published

on

Indian Captain Smit Machchhar injured in the cockpit attack

by Capt. (Ret.).G.A. Fernando, MBA

There are three essential components to a commercial airline operation: safety, security and teamwork.

Aviation and teamwork at the ‘sharp’ end of a commercial aircraft, i.e. the flight deck, is unique. Unlike many other teams, it may be quite literally the first and the last time a particular combination of small teams of two, three, or four individual airmen (or women) will fly together. Sometimes even in the same airline that employs them.

Therefore, to make conditions safe and practical, while understanding and trusting tech other, they have to rely on a series of Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs), and ‘Normal’ and ‘Emergency’ checklists for every conceivable situation. That is, to be able to do the right things, and do things right. In fact, there is a saying in aviation to the effect that ‘if you make a mistake in aviation, be original and make a new one’.

To ensure that safety standards are constantly maintained, airline pilots’ proficiency is tested every six months, in simulators, under the supervision of examiners from the civil aviation regulator. In Sri Lanka that organisaton is the Civil Aviation Authority-Sri Lanka (CAASL). Three simulator checks are conducted every 12 months in keeping with the tenet that ‘practice makes perfect’. A pithy adage not confined to the world of aviation warns that ‘prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance’.

The simulator exercises include rejected takeoffs, including in cross-wind situations, landings, engine fires and/or engine failures from a variety of causes, cabin pressurisation failure, precision and non-precision approaches, and landings in bad visibility – amongst other conditions that could be expected in actual flight.

In addition, a flight in a real airplane, on a regular passenger service under the supervision of an examiner from the airline, is undertaken to ensure that the company’s standard practices and procedures are carried out and maintained as prescribed in the airline’s manuals. These publications are in turn approved by the national regulator.

Crash axe

Finally, flight crew members must take a written test annually, on emergency equipment locations and procedures, with 90% as the pass mark.

Since the mid-1980s it has been mandatory for airline pilots to undertake a Crew Resource Management (CRM) programme once every two years. This training essentially emphasises what to do and what not to do to, in a specific emergency situation, or even during normal operations, to make the team cohesive and effective. During the course, the CRM facilitators discuss recent incidents and accidents that have occurred. Results of those events are recorded and could be retrieved, when necessary, by the official aviation bodies.

Not unexpectedly, it is demanding on a pilot to fulfill these requirements on a regular basis throughout his/her career, along with presenting for a bi-annual medical examination, all with the objective of retaining one’s licence to operate an aircraft. It may not be understood, therefore, by persons outside the aviation industry, or even some working in other aspects of an airline organisation, that it is often the passion for flight that keeps many pilots doing what they do to earn a living.

Security

Another important factor is the challenge of maintaining security in all aspects of airline operations, not least in the cockpit. The challenges are many, with new ones surfacing almost every day. It is therefore essential to be always prepared for the activities and ‘methods’ of perpetrators seeking to wreak evil on an aircraft and its occupants. As it is impossible for any airline or national security organisation to cover all aspects, systematic management of risks to effect a safe outcome becomes imperative.

Flydubai Incident

In the recent Flydubai incident of 30 September, 2026, a first officer (co-pilot) attacked the captain of the flight with a crash axe to accomplish his sinister motives, into which investigations are continuing. For the time being, it prompts the questions: should the crash axe be easily accessible to the flight crew? Or even be there at all? I believe it is a case of assessing the greater risk.

With regard to that event, and the circumstances that led to it, other deterrents could have been applied more thoroughly. For example, more thorough screening of pilots’ and other crewpersons’ backgrounds, with emphasis on their mental health, ideological affiliations and previous employment history. Separately, during a time of conflict in the Middle East, should Flydubai have even been operating between Dubai and Tel Aviv? Notwithstanding that cost-cutting and profit maximisation are key aims of any business, an airline’s apparent failure to conduct adequate psychological profiling of flight crew members, while continuing to operate ‘profitable’ routes, regardless of potential danger, can only be regarded and condemned as greed and disregard for human lives.

( Captain. Fernando, RCyAF, SLAF, Air Ceylon, Air Lanka, Singapore Airlines (SIA), SriLankan Airlines, Former Chief Pilot, Air Lanka Boeing 737, Former Deputy Chief Pilot, Lockheed L 1011, Former Crew Resource Management (CRM) Facilitator, SIA, Former Deputy Director (Air Operations) CAASL, Former President, Aircraft Owners and Operators Association Sri Lanka (AOAOASL), President, The Colombo Flying Club, Representative for Aviation, Organisation of Professional Associations (OPA), Hony, and Member Sri Lanka Society of Transport and Logistics.)

Continue Reading

Trending