Features
Academic freedom: What is it and why is it important?
“When we commit ourselves to education as the practice of freedom, we participate in the making of an academic community where we can be and become intellectuals in the fullest and deepest sense of the word.”
– bell hooks (1989)
Traditionally understood, academic freedom refers to the freedom for academic communities to teach, learn, engage in research and advance scholarly inquiry, without interference. It encompasses the freedom to comment on internal university matters and also on issues of public interest without facing institutional censorship. These freedoms are vital for universities to function as places of learning and scholarship that promote critical dialogue and inquiry. They also allow university communities to hold power to account, whether inside or outside the university, and thus play a vital role in democratising society.
At a seminar on academic freedom, held at the University of Jaffna recently, the discussion opened with a question from a university teacher: “Does academic freedom mean we have the freedom to stay away from work?” While there was consensus among those present that academics at the pinnacle of the university hierarchy do enjoy considerable academic freedom in teaching, research and expressing opinions, others, especially those at lower ranks, shared concerns about what they believed was an abuse of academic freedom by teachers who do not turn up regularly to work, fail to fulfil the required number of teaching hours, place the teaching load on juniors, etc. In this article, we look at how academic freedom is framed within the state university system and the limits of our understanding and its implications.
State universities and academic freedom
The University Grants Commission (UGC) and university administrations only make fleeting references to academic freedom in their policies and guidelines where it is framed as an antithesis to academic accountability, which is now being policed by the UGC, COPE and others. A UGC policy document on academic ethics and accountability (2015) recognises that “[u]niversity teachers should have ‘Academic Freedom’ to: teach and carry out research without any interference; be open and flexible in their academic activities; and undertake activities outside their employment that enhance their intellect and professional skills…” but proposes the implementation of a ‘Workload and Work Norms Model’ to hold academics accountable. This model aims to quantify work based on a set of pre-defined standards; it recommends academics be allowed a maximum of seven hours from their minimum weekly workload for “pursuit[s] of their choice,” including those that involve remuneration.
Such directives have filtered down to the universities, which now have policies on academic accountability (not freedom). For instance, the ‘Policy on Academic Accountability’ of the University of Jaffna (2021) states: “While academic freedom is crucial for the academic achievement of the individual and as well as the University, it is necessary for a university academic to recognise and accept duties and responsibilities to fulfil.” This is followed by a lengthy list of principles in the areas of academic ethics, scholarly competence and engagement, respect for students and colleagues and, puzzlingly, “scholarly respect for the university”, which includes supporting “the mission, goals, policies, procedures, and expectations of the university.” Also based on UGC directives, universities have adopted social media guidelines that place limits on sharing views that may bring universities to disrepute; the social media guidelines for students and staff at the University of Colombo include “Non-violation of the dignity of the University as an institution,” as a core principle. While such policies and guidelines could be weaponised against teachers and students, faculty boards and senates blithely adopt them with little or no critical analysis or discussion of their implications.
At times, the attacks on academic freedom are less overt. For instance, the UGC’s Quality Assurance Framework, while compelling universities, faculties, and departments, to engage in a top-down checkbox activity that is expected to enhance quality (but often doesn’t because of its cookie-cutter approach that usually involves little consultation with academics or students), also normalises a restrictive outcome-based framework to curriculum development that compels alignment of graduate outcomes with industry requirements. The favouring of STEM research in national and university research grants and the emphasis on commercialisation, deprioritises social justice-oriented inquiry and scholarship in the social sciences and humanities. Our universities also restrict our freedom to “be” or express our identities, for instance, by policing attire, sexual activity, and erasing certain ways of being (e.g., LGBTIQ+, minority ethnicities).
Academic freedom should extend to all members of university communities, including those at the bottom of the university hierarchy. Yet, such freedom is seriously restricted for probationary lecturers, fixed-term staff and undergraduates. The hierarchical structure of the university breeds conditions for academic exploitation, sexual servitude, and other misconduct. In certain departments, junior staff take on the lion’s share of teaching, leaving them little time for research and career development. While they have little or no recourse to safe and independent grievance procedures, various other institutional barriers prevent probationary and fixed-term staff from engaging in academic life. For instance, restrictions on sitting on committees, not being encouraged to speak and participate actively at meetings, not being granted opportunities to represent the university at academic forums, and so on. Neither these staff nor students are permitted to organise meetings or events without obtaining approval at multiple levels. At the University of Peradeniya, students need to obtain eight signatures before they are granted approval to hold an event; very recently an event critical of the IMF was arbitrarily cancelled.
Although students could be a progressive force in demanding academic freedom, in Sri Lanka, not only the university administrations, but also the students threaten academic freedom. Ragging and the need to conform and follow rules set by seniors, including dress codes, is a clear example. Student unions control the kinds of events students organise and also impinge on the academic freedom of others. Quite recently, an event was cancelled at the University of Jaffna under pressure from the Student Union, who opposed the dissenting political views held by the speaker. Arguably, however, the greatest threats to academic freedom lie outside the university embedded in the political economy.
External threats to academic freedom
The security granted by tenure and collegial governance, so crucial to academic freedom, is under threat. Governments are defunding universities and rebranding them as businesses, crippling their ability to function as centres of critical thinking and inquiry. Left to generate their own funds, universities are becoming more and more reliant on course fees, and must now compete to attract students. Deep cuts to university budgets have been accompanied by a rise in the proportion of non-tenured teaching faculty. In parallel, power has steadily shifted from academic bodies like faculty boards and senates to administrators and funders—the latter including corporations. Collaboration with industry heavily shapes research agendas, rendering certain kinds of research questions off limits. The shift to outcome-based education, which prioritises skilling students for the labour market, has led to content that requires critical or analytical thinking being removed from curricula.
Rather than the pursuit of knowledge as an end in itself, the prime aim of higher education appears to be to create compliant workers for the industry.
In Sri Lanka too, this managerial model of university governance has taken hold, not least through quality assurance processes, which seem to force academic bodies into acquiescence. The freeze on hires under the economic crisis has led to a greater reliance on temporary and contract staff. The consequences of these changes to university education and, in particular, academic freedom, are felt most acutely at the lower rungs of the university hierarchy. Although state university enrolment is at an all-time high, students struggle to make end meet, as higher education is becoming increasingly unaffordable with insufficient residential facilities, rising food prices, and an overall weakening of the Free Education policy—a clear erosion of the freedom to learn.
To conclude
The emphasis on academic accountability in discussions on academic freedom may be misplaced. As state universities are being weakened by funding cuts and rampant privatisation, the UGC and university administrations are instituting policies and mechanisms to contain academic freedom. Rather than quantifying workload or introducing appraisal forms to police academic activity, the solution to deficits in accountability may be found in academic freedom itself. We should aim to create egalitarian university spaces in which power is re-distributed so that staff at all levels and students feel valued and encouraged to participate in university governance. When academic freedom is strengthened and practiced, the demands for accountability would come from within, from those very ranks whose academic freedom are trampled upon today.
(Ramya Kumar teaches at the University of Jaffna; Shamala Kumar and Sivamohan Sumathy teach at the University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies
by Ramya Kumar, Shamala Kumar
and Sivamohan Sumathy
Features
Lunatics of genius
Tales of Mystery and Suspense 2
A very different sort of murder mystery today, one of the few intended to provide laughter too. Written in the thirties, it deals with a murder during a ballet, its title being A Bullet at the Ballet. It was a collaborative effort by Caryl Brahms and S J Simon, to whom I was introduced nearly half a century ago by Robert Scoble, the friend with whom I have discussed and shared books more than with anyone else.
Brahms was a ballet critic whose parents were Jews who had emigrated to Britain from Turkey while Simon was born in Manchuria in 1904 to a White Russian Jewish family, and then ended up in England, where he was renowned as an expert on bridge.
Having been fellow lodgers in London, they wrote together for newspapers and then tried out a novel. A Bullet in the Ballet, published in 1937, was an instant success, and over the next few years they published a couple of sequels, involving the Ballet Stroganoff, and the detective Adam Quill, who was tasked with investigating the first murder.
In Robert’s Books and other reading around the world, published by Godage & Bros a few years back, I mentioned the first of these and also what then entertained me most, when I read these books in his luxurious flat in Chidlom Place in Bangkok, No Bed for Bacon, a romp through the days of Queen Elizabeth. Historical absurdities were their other forte, but in this series, I will confine myself to the three books that feature Quill, and the gloriously dotty Ballet Stroganoff.
It is owned by the impresario Vladimir Stroganoff, whose motley crew includes the once renowned ballerina Arenskaya, who is now his trainer, and the avant garde composer Nicolas Nevajno, who wants anyone, as he meets them, ‘to schange me small scheque’. The dancers are less memorable, except that two of them are the murder victims, both when dancing the title role in ‘Petroushka’. Neither Anton Palook nor Pavel Bunia was especially popular, and Quill was on the point of arresting the latter for the murder of the former when, having put it off at Stroganoff’s request so that he could dance the title role, the suspect was killed in the course of the ballet.
Both before and after the second murder, Quill is confronted with multiple motives, multiple means and multiple opportunities, to cite the formula in the Detective’s Handbook he has studied. Palook for instance had affairs with lots of girls but had recently taken up with the homosexual Pavel, whose lover, his dresser Serge Appelsinne, was profoundly jealous. The young dancers who performed brilliantly in the final performance of Petroushka, with which the novel ends, were also involved, in that Palook had been friendly towards Kasha Ranevsky, making Pavel jealous; and the ballerina Rubinska, involved with Palook, had tried to wean him away from Pavel, an appeal Pavel may have heard, after which she met Palook again just before he died, and he had said he was sick of being chased since his affairs were never lasting.
Preposterous intricacies one might have thought, had I not come across similar exchanges when we hosted the London City Ballet in Sri Lanka in 1985 on a British Council tour. Brahms and Simon simply push everything well over the top, with the characters pursuing their own obsessions without reference to the predilections, let alone the obsessions, of the others, all of which makes for high drama at a cracking pace.
But in dwelling at length on the plot of this first Brahms and Simon novel, I have omitted what perhaps provides the most zest to the plot, the constant bickering between Stroganoff and his orchestra, his efforts to avoid his relentlessly talkative Secretary, the endless stream of catch phrases, such as the Wiskyansoda Stroganoff offers his visitors, only to find there is none, just Russian tea, or the vigilant mothers determined to bag the best roles for their daughters.
Then there is Arenskaya, who flirts with the incredibly handsome Quill, and turns out to have had an affair years back with his boss, the usually grumpy Snarl, who softens surprisingly when he comes to a performance. And her husband, Puthyk, who was not at all jealous it seemed of her having had an affair with Palook, reminisces endlessly of his own wonderful performances in the past, though now at most he can only be used in crowd scenes.
Quill – and the ubiquitous press – meanwhile discover that a third Petroushka had died while playing the role, in Paris, before the two deaths in London. He had been found dead in his dressing room, and suicide had been the verdict, but now it was assumed that he too had been murdered, and there was thought to be a jinx on anyone dancing the title role. But Stroganoff was determined to go ahead with the gala performance he had planned, for which he hoped Benois, who had been involved in the original production with Njinsky, would come.
Though it was increasingly clear Benois would not appear, with tickets selling like hot cakes, in anticipation of a death, there was no way Stroganoff would cancel the performance. And his great rival Lord Buttonhooke, the newspaper proprietor, who it was rumoured wanted to start a ballet and had persuaded Palook to come over to him, had headlines about another murder all ready as the curtain rose.
Rubinskaya had earlier begged Quill to arrest Ranevsky, who was to dance the roll, as the only way of saving him, but there is no reason to do this, and so the performance does happen, with inspired performances by both of them. And, so, the murderer, who could not bear to have the role traduced, refrains from killing Ranevsky, and confesses to the earlier crimes. ‘Lord Buttonhooke strode from the theatre, a disappointed man’.
But that is not the end, for there is an epilogue in which Stroganoff writes to Quill to plead for kindness to ‘not an assassin, but an artist, that you have put in that pretty home in Sussex’. The letter has other elements that take up themes from the book, such as a new ballet by Nevajno, with ‘a scene where the corps de ballet is shot with a machine-gun. London will be shaken.’ And he will not tell Kasha and Rubinska that they dance better every day ‘lest their mother ask for bigger contracts’.
It was no wonder that the book was a triumph. The ballet scenes, if brilliantly exaggerated, did create a sense of how such spectacles were created, the murder mystery was full of suspense with the two deaths – and the discovery of another, treated earlier as suicide – well paced, and the climax when the ballet ends without another murder was gripping.
Features
Mysterious Death of United Nations Secretary General Hammarskjöld
LEST WE FORGET – IV
Dag Hjalmar Agne Carl Hammarskjöld
(‘DH’ for short) was appointed Secretary-General of the United Nations in April 1953, when he was 47 years old. He was a member of an aristocratic Swedish family, a diplomat and reformer, in whom the Western world and United States of America had faith to do the ‘right’ thing. His mission was to prevent minor skirmishes among countries from escalating into a third World War. In short, his role was to implement the UN Charter (Peace, Security, Development and Human Rights).
The Korean War was just ending, and the Cuban situation (1956 to 1958) occurred during his watch. The Vietnam North/South conflict had also commenced in 1955. So did the Suez crisis in 1956. By 1960 another crisis had occurred in the Congo. He applied himself with religious zeal, sometimes trusting his conscience, judgement and personal commitment to maintain the UN’s integrity during the Cold War. As a result, he was not too popular with the US, the UK and Russia, which at one point wanted him to resign. By now DH was serving a second term as Secretary-General.
In the Congo, mineral-rich Katanga province wanted self-rule with Moïse Tshombe as its head, while highly paid white mercenaries (dogs of war?) ran his military. Thus, with this situation creating a civil war, things were going from bad to worse. By now UN troops were fully involved in ‘peace keeping’ in the Congo. DH had made three trips to Congo before, and his fourth trip, on September 13, 1961, was to include a visit to Katanga for a meeting with Tshombe in the hope of negotiating for peace. His first destination was Leopoldville, now known as Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). There, he spent about four days before flying to Ndola in Northern Rhodesia, the country now known as Zambia. Ndola was situated at the Katanga border.
The flight took off from Leopoldville shortly after 3 pm on September 17. For security reasons, the flight was initially planned for another destination, then diverted to Ndola. The aircraft was a four-engine Douglas DC-6B, with ‘Aramco’ markings, Swedish registration SE-BDY, and named Albertina. With DH there were 15 other passengers and crew on board.
It was midnight when the aircraft overflew the Ndola airport, tracking towards a ground-based Non-Directional radio beacon (NDB) in the vicinity. To observers on the ground, everything about the aircraft looked ‘normal’. This was 1961, and it was still not mandatory to have a Flight Data Recorder (FDR) and Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR) – collectively known as the ‘Black Box’ – installed onboard. The air traffic control tower had neither radar nor voice-recording facilities.
The navigational equipment on the DC-6 was primitive by today’s standards. A needle over a compass dial in the Automatic Direction Finder (ADF) pointed to the beacon which was located close to the final approach. The ‘modus operandi’ was to fly past the beacon (which is at a known position relative to the airport). Pilots know they have flown past the beacon when the ADF needle swings around from pointing toward the nose of the aircraft to the tail. From overhead that Ndola NDB the aircraft is expected to fly on a heading of 280 degrees for 30 seconds, then carry out a course reversal, known as a ‘procedure turn’, offset to the right at 45 degrees (heading of 325 degrees) and flown for precisely 60 seconds, after which another turn is made to the reciprocal direction, in this case 145 degrees, back to intercept the extended centreline of the runway, with a bearing of 100 degrees to the NDB and the runway beyond. All this while descending to a minimum altitude of 5,000ft, as dictated by a landing chart for the airfield approved by the operating airline and local civil aviation authority. (See Chart 1 and 2)
In Chart 1, the significant high ground is only indicated to the north and south of the runway. There is no significant high ground to the west. Because pilots don’t know the exact distance from the airport, an acceptable technique used was ‘dive and drive’. Consequently, Albertina flew over Ndola at 6,000 ft or lower, and when turning ‘beacon inbound’ the pilots asked for a lower altitude of 5,000 ft to descend and maintain. While on descent, the DC-6 impacted unmarked high ground at 13 minutes past midnight, when only 9 miles from the airport.
Meanwhile in Ndola, a welcoming party awaited, consisting of Lord Alport, British High Commissioner to the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, Moïse Tshombe, the Katangese separatist leader, who had been brought in from Congo for talks with DH, and many others. They waited at the airport until shortly after 3 am, when the runway was closed and landing lights were turned off. Strangely, the air traffic control staff in the tower did not observe fire or noise of the crash and assumed that the aircraft had diverted to another airport. (See Image Wreckage)
The impact with trees occurred at a height of 4,357 ft above sea level, slightly left of the extended centreline of the runway. The aircraft should have been at least at 5,000 ft above sea level, as required by the approved landing chart. Significant high ground west of the airfield was not indicated in that chart.
The wreckage was found later in the afternoon of September 18, in the jungle, with over 80% of the airplane destroyed by fire. Although 14 passengers and crew were burnt beyond recognition, one bodyguard, Sergeant Harold Julien, survived for six days before dying in hospital. DH’s unburnt dead body was discovered with grass on his hands, propped up by an anthill and a playing card, the Ace of Spades, under his collar! The first UN officer to arrive at the crash site, Major General Bjørn Egge, a Norwegian, observed that there was a clean bullet hole in DH’s head that was covered up during the postmortem. So, did DH survive the crash to be killed afterward?
In the 24 hours preceding the crash, two of the three crew members had been on duty continuously for 17 hours, while the handling pilot’s duty time was within limits. The Rhodesian accident investigation team that conducted the inquiry declared it was ‘pilot error’. The following day, former US President Harry Truman, who was a confidant of incumbent President John F. Kennedy said that “Hammarskjöld had been killed”. Of course, pilot error was the most convenient explanation, because dead men cannot defend themselves. Therefore, those findings were disputed as there can be reasons why the pilots were forced to fly low. In other words, the cause behind the cause needed to be found.
In one of two UN-authorised inquiries, the UN’s Deputy Spokesperson, Farhan Haq, said that “significant new information” had been submitted to the inquiry for this latest update. This included probable intercepts by the UN member states, of communications related to the crash; the capacity of Katanga’s armed forces, or others, to mount an attack on the DC-6, SE-BDY; and the involvement of foreign paramilitary or intelligence personnel in the area at the time. It also included additional new information relevant to the context and surrounding events of 1961.
Additionally, in 1998 Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Chairman of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), stated that with regards to DH’s death in 1961, Britain’s MI5 (Military Intelligence, Section 5), the USA’s Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and South African Intelligence were implicated in letters where information was withheld before by member nations of the UN.
One possibility was the planting of plastic explosives in the wheel bay of the DC-6 when it was on the ground in Leopoldville. Pieces of wreckage were not spread out over the jungle. The aircraft crashed in one piece, creating a swathe in the treeline. So, it could not have been an explosion.
Many Congolese natives, including ‘charcoal burners’ in the jungle, said that there was more than one aircraft in the sky that night. These reports were dismissed as unreliable by the original accident inquiry. It was possibly because in 1961 the Rhodesian authorities only accepted ‘white’ witnesses’ evidence. So, was the DC-6 shot down, and if so by whom?
A High Frequency (HF) radio listening station in Cyprus monitored a transmission of a highly decorated, ex-Royal Air Force World War II pilot, operating in the Congo as a mercenary with the nickname ‘Lone Ranger’, giving a running commentary while shooting a large passenger aircraft from his modified Fouga CM.170 Magister two-seat jet trainer airplane. The pilot, Jan Van Risseghem (from a Belgian father and English mother), may not have known whose aircraft he was shooting at. He was only told of the mission he needed to accomplish. Besides, he had a strong alibi set up by the Belgian State Security Service (VSSE), saying that he was nowhere in the vicinity. Documents released later confirmed that the alibi was pure fabrication. It is also said that the American Ambassador to the Congo sent a secret cable saying that Van Risseghem was the possible ‘attacker’! (See Images Jan Van and KAT 93)
Harold Julien, the sole survivor of the crash, stated from his hospital bed that the aircraft caught fire before it crashed. But his evidence was disregarded on the grounds that he was seriously ill and delirious before he succumbed to his injuries.
Then, Land Rovers being driven to and fro were observed by natives in the early morning of September 18. This led to speculation that the occupants were suspected French mercenaries attempting to reach the crash site and destroy any evidence of foul play before the official party arrived. Questions were also asked as to how the Ace of Spades (or Six of Spades) playing card ended up under DH’s collar?
Further reports mentioned a de Havilland Dove aircraft flying in the vicinity of the crash. Was it part of an attempt to bomb the DC-6 from a high altitude?
On the other hand, the DC-6 was making a very difficult approach and landing at night, with the possibility for pilots to be distracted by optical illusions. These have been identified and labeled as potential killers by scientists and aviation accident investigators in subsequent crashes. With no lights in the foreground, they would have lost sight of the natural horizon in the dark. Years later, this phenomenon was called a ‘Black Hole’. Did the captain attempt to do a visual approach into uncharted territory, while disregarding the radio navigational beacon landing aid, and collide into high ground, a type of accident described as a Controlled Flight into Terrain (CFIT)?
The verdict is still open
Today’s airliners, equipped with Inertial Navigation Systems (INS) and satellite-aided Global Positioning Systems (GPS), can be set up by the pilots to fly an Artificial Intelligence (AI) generated approach angle, independent of ground navigational facilities, to prevent this type of CFIT accident. Besides that, all turbine-powered aircraft carrying more than nine passengers must be equipped with a Ground Proximity Warning System (GPWS) as mandated by law.
Going even one better, there are enhanced radar displays to show the presence of high ground. Unfortunately, the DC-6 that the Secretary-General of the UN travelled in was powered by four piston engines.
It was said of Dag Hammarskjöld that he served as Secretary-General of the UN with the utmost courage and integrity from 1953 until his death in 1961, setting standards against which his successors continue to be measured.
He is the only Nobel Peace Prize Laureate to have been awarded the distinction posthumously.
God bless all secret service agencies of the world and no one else!
by GUWAN SEEYA
Features
Putting people back into ‘development’ – a challenge for South
Should Sri Lanka consider an 18th IMF programme? Some academicians exploring Sri Lanka’s development prospects in depth are raising this issue. It is yet to emerge as a hot topic among policy and decision-making circles in this country but common sense would sooner rather than later dictate that it be taken up for discussion by the wider public and a decision arrived at.
The issue of an 18th IMF programme was raised with some urgency locally by none other than Dr. Ganeshan Wignaraja,Visiting Senior Fellow, ODI Global London, one of whose presentations, made at the Regional Centre for Strategic Studies (RCSS), Colombo, was highlighted in this column last week, May 7th. An IMF programme is far from the ideal way out for a bankrupt country such as Sri Lanka but a policy of economic pragmatism would indicate that there is no other way out for Sri Lanka. Such a programme is the proverbial ‘Bird in the hand’ for Sri Lanka and it may be compelled to avail of it to get itself out of the morass of economic failures it is bogged down in currently.
While local economic growth possibilities are far from encouraging at present, such prospects globally are far from bright as well. Some of the more thought-provoking data in the latter regard were disclosed by Dr. Wignaraja. For example, ‘The IMF’s April 2026 World Economic Outlook projects global growth slowing to 3.1 percent in 2026; with downside risks dominating: prolonged conflict, geopolitical fragmentation, renewed trade tensions, bearing down hardest on emergent and developing economies.’
However, as is known, an ‘IMF bailout’ is fraught with huge risks for the people of a developing country. ‘The Silver Bullet’ brings hardships for the people usually and they would be required by their governments to increasingly ‘tighten their belts’ and brace for perhaps indefinite material hardships and discontent. For Sri Lanka, the cost of living is unsettlingly high and 20 percent of the population is languishing below the poverty line of $ 3.65 per day.
These statistics should help put the spotlight on the people of a country, who are theoretically the subjects and beneficiaries of development, and one of the main reasons, in so far as democracies are concerned, for the existence of governments. Placing people at the centre of the development process is urgently needed in the global South and shifting the focus to other considerations would be tantamount to governments dabbling in misplaced priorities.
Technocrats are needed for the propelling of economic growth but a Southern country’s main approach to development cannot be entirely technocratic in nature. The well being of the people and how it is affected by such growth strategies need to be prime focuses in discussions on development. Accordingly, discourses on how poverty alleviation could be facilitated need urgent initiation and perpetuation. There is no getting away from people’s empowerment.
In the South over the decades, the above themes have been, more or less, allowed to lapse in discussions on development. With economic liberalization and ‘market economics’ being allowed to eclipse development, correctly understood, people’s well being could be said to have been downplayed by Southern governments.
The development issues of Southern publics could be also said to have been compounded over the years as a result of the hemisphere lacking a single and effective ‘voice’ that could consistently and forcefully take up its questions with the global powers and institutions that matter. That is, the South lacks an all-embracing, umbrella organization that could bring together and muster the collective will of the South and work towards the realization of its best interests.
This columnist has time and again brought up the need for concerned Southern sections to explore the potential within the now virtually moribund Non-Aligned Movement to reactivate itself and fill the above lacuna in the South’s organizational and mobilization capability. In its heyday NAM not only possessed this institutional capability but had ample ‘voice power’ in the form of its founding fathers, with Jawaharlal Nehru of India, for example, proving a power to reckon with in this regard. The lack of such leaders at present needs to be factored in as well as accounting for the South’s lack of power and presence in the deliberative forums of the world that have a bearing on the hemisphere’s well being.
The Executive Director of the RCSS, Ambassador (Retd) Ravinatha Aryasinha, articulated some interesting thoughts on the above and related questions at a forum a couple of months back. Speaking at the launching of the book authored by Prof. Gamini Keerewella titled, ‘Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective’, at the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies, Colombo, Amb. Aryasinha said, among other things: ‘Historically, there is a precedent that has been realized by the Non-Aligned group of countries – unfortunately, rather than being reformed and modified at the end of the Cold War, it has been tossed away.’
The inability of the nominally existent NAM to come out of its state of veritable paralysis and voice and act in the name of the South in the current international crises lends credence to the view that the organization has allowed itself to be ‘tossed away.’ The challenge before NAM is to prove that it is by no means a spent force.
As indicated, NAM needs vibrant voices that could advocate value-based advancement for the global South. Moral principles need to triumph over Realpolitik. Such transformative changes could come to pass if there is a fresh meeting of enlightened minds within the South. Pakistan by offering to mediate in the ongoing conflict between the US and Iran, for instance, proved that there are still states within the South that could look beyond narrow self-interest and work towards some collective goals. Hopefully, Pakistan’s example will be emulated.
Along with Pakistan some Gulf states have shown willingness to work towards a de-escalation of the present hostilities in West Asia. This could be a beginning for the undertaking of more ambitious, collective projects by the South that have as their goals political solutions to current international crises. These developments prove that the South is not bereft of visionary thinking that could lay the basis for a measure of world peace. That is, there are grounds to be hopeful.
NAM needs to see it as its responsibility to make good use of these hopeful signs to bring the South together once again and work towards the realization of its founding principles, such as initiating value-based international politics and laying the basis for the collective economic betterment of Southern people.
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