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America at 250

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A man watches as people hold an America 250 banner featuring George Washington and U.S. President Donald Trump near the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.

What has happened to Thomas Paine remains unresolved, and that uncertainty matters when trying to understand the United States at its present stage. The United States of America yesterday (July 4) marked its 250th birthday, a moment when one of the world’s leading liberal democracies appeared less as a coherent model and more as a divided system, a family business struggling to awaken from its long slumber. How the United States has acted against itself in recent years raises the question of whether it is still accurate to describe it as a single coherent nation-state in the conventional sense, or whether it is better understood as an idea that repeatedly turns inward and contradicts itself. As Wang Huning, Xi Jinping’s leading political theorist, wrote in 1991, “Americans accept only equality of conditions, not equality of results. Once equality of conditions is established, then comes the realm of liberty.” Whether one agrees with this interpretation or not, it captures a recurring tension in the American experiment: a belief in formal equality coexisting with persistent inequality of outcome.

The United States has always been more than a set of territorial and governmental structures. It is an idea that attracts interpretation, projection and reinvention, drawing together disparate intellectual traditions into a single, contested narrative of purpose. Despite sustained criticism, it remains one of the most successful political constructions in modern history, precisely because it is not fixed.

In 1783, while British troops were still being evacuated after defeat in the Revolutionary War, Ezra Stiles claimed that Americans had devised the “most perfect” principles of government anywhere, predicting that the population would exceed 300 million within “two or three hundred years”. In 1804, following the Louisiana Purchase, David Ramsay argued that the republic “can never be too large” and would eventually span the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In the political imagination of Thomas Paine and Thomas Jefferson, the United States was a beacon of republican government against monarchy and tyranny. Even in 1862, amid civil war, Abraham Lincoln still described it as “the last, best hope of earth”. Yet from the beginning, expansion and idealism were inseparable from fracture, contradiction, and conflict between universal language and particular power.

The life and posthumous fate of Thomas Paine illustrates this tension with unusual clarity. Paine gave the revolutionary project its most accessible moral language, insisting that sovereignty belonged to citizens rather than kings, and that authority required consent rather than inheritance. Yet his later life ended in obscurity, his reputation diminished in a society increasingly suspicious of his radicalism. His remains were later disinterred by William Cobbett and transported to England, only to be lost to history, fragmented into uncertain claims and incomplete records. That physical dispersal mirrors the dispersal of the revolutionary certainty he represented. What followed Paine was not the stabilization of a philosophical project, but its transformation into a governing system expanding across territory, economy and military capacity, constantly negotiating between founding principles and practical power.

This tension is embedded in the structure of the state itself. The United States developed as a system in which competing interpretations of the same constitutional text became engines of political struggle. Federalists and anti-Federalists, abolitionists and slaveholders, isolationists and expansionists all claimed fidelity to the founding framework while drawing incompatible conclusions from it. As territorial expansion accelerated, liberty and dispossession coexisted within the same national vocabulary. As industrialization advanced, contractual freedom coexisted with forms of dependency that contradicted its premise. The modern state, including what later became described as the military-industrial complex, did not emerge as an external distortion of the founding idea, but as one of its internal expressions. Its strength lay not in ideological consistency, but in its capacity to absorb contradiction and remain operational across changing historical conditions.

By the twentieth century, this elasticity had become both an advantage and a burden. The Cold War presented the United States as a universal model of liberty against external tyranny, yet this framing intensified internal contradictions rather than resolving them. Military interventions, proxy conflicts and intelligence operations expanded alongside declared commitments to democracy and self-determination. The result was not a simple case of hypocrisy, but a structural duality: the simultaneous production of democratic ideals and the support of undemocratic outcomes under the logic of strategic necessity. Over time, this contradiction ceased to appear exceptional and became normalized within political language itself, absorbed into the routine functioning of policy and public discourse.

Within this long historical arc, contemporary polarization can be read less as rupture than as revelation. Donald Trump, in this context, is not an anomaly outside the American tradition but a concentrated expression of its internal contradictions. The argument that he represents either a decisive break or a total corruption of the system misses the deeper continuity of American political life, which has always oscillated between moral idealism and pragmatic force, between universal language and selective application. The increasing intensity of political conflict reflects not sudden decline, but the difficulty of sustaining older narratives of unity under contemporary conditions.

The more fundamental question is whether the United States ever existed outside the tension it now displays so openly. Historical scholarship repeatedly returns to the same paradox: that a constitutional order capable of expanding rights also contained mechanisms of exclusion; that a political experiment inspiring global imitation was built alongside structures of inequality it struggled to overcome. The so-called hypocrisy of American liberty is not an incidental flaw, but a recurring condition of its development. It is visible in Indigenous dispossession, in the entanglement of slavery with economic growth, and in later global projections of power justified through the language of security and democracy. It is also visible in counter-traditions that repeatedly forced reinterpretation: abolitionism, civil rights movements, labour organization and reform politics, each attempting to re-anchor founding language against the realities of practice.

To describe the United States as an idea rather than a country is therefore partially accurate, but incomplete. It is an idea that has always required institutions, enforcement and coercive capacity to exist in material form. It is also an idea that has never been stable, continuously rewritten by successive generations who inherit it under different material conditions. The military-industrial system, the administrative state, the intelligence apparatus and the electoral framework are not deviations from the founding idea, but mechanisms through which it scales itself across time and global reach. The consequence is paradoxical: a system powerful enough to preserve continuity, yet structured in such a way that disagreement over meaning becomes permanent rather than resolvable.

At 250 years, the United States appears less like a completed political project and more like a continuing argument that has never settled its own meaning, where universal ideals and uneven outcomes persist within the same institutional framework and shape one another over time. Its history shows that reform and resistance are permanently entangled, since efforts to extend equality repeatedly collide with structures designed to preserve stability, hierarchy and continuity, producing cycles in which change often arrives as adjustment rather than rupture. In modern conditions of extreme wealth concentration and intensified political polarization, this tension becomes sharper, as formal equality coexists with highly uneven distributions of influence and power, all expressed through the same inherited language of rights and opportunity.

In this context, a 927-page financial disclosure attributed to President Donald Trump, describing extensive income streams from cryptocurrency holdings, property interests and royalty arrangements, is interpreted not simply as personal accumulation but as a symbol of a broader systemic paradox, where economic scale and political legitimacy increasingly overlap in ways that are difficult to disentangle. The result is a governing order that depends simultaneously on adaptation and preservation, where legitimacy requires change but continuity requires restraint, leaving the country defined less by resolution than by the ongoing friction between what it promises and what it produces.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa



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Eastern University and the making of a culture of peace

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by Jehan Perera

There is an important change in the way peace is being understood in Sri Lanka. The notion that peacebuilding is not simply the responsibility of governments, politicians and peace organisations, but is also a responsibility of educational institutions, appears to be permeating the consciousness of at least a section of the academic community. This was visible on International Peace Day at an event held at Eastern University by the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences. The event was unusual not least because the medical and nursing faculty of the university had decided that peacebuilding was relevant to its academic and professional responsibilities.

Peacebuilding has too often been treated as something undertaken after conflict, when the fighting has stopped and the immediate task is to rebuild relationships between communities. But peace cannot be sustained by governments and peace organisations alone. If it is to become long lasting, the values and practices of peace have to become part of the institutions through which a society educates its younger generations. Universities and other educational institutions are therefore important to peacebuilding. They are among the places where the foundations of a culture of peace can either be built or neglected.

The experience of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University provides a practical example of what this can mean. Led by its Dean, Prof Thillainathan Sathaananthan, the faculty organised an event which went beyond the ordinary academic scope of a medical faculty. University academics are experts in writing project proposals and applying for research grants. On this occasion, the members of the Faculty of Health-Care Sciences used those skills to apply for a UNESCO grant that they won to conduct an International Peace Day event. The significance lies less in the Rs 200,000 grant than in the decision to use the university’s institutional capacity and resources to invest in peacebuilding. The event at Eastern University needs to be understood as more than a successful university programme. It represents a possible paradigm shift in peace thinking.

Institutional Commitment

The Peace Day event obtained the support of the university administration, including Vice Chancellor Prof P Peratheepan, and reached out to secondary schools in the vicinity to mobilise their attendance. The event itself was meticulously organised. There were cultural items including traditional and modern dance and song in the three languages, performed by combinations of solo, duet and multiple singers, dancers and actors drawn in part from nearby secondary schools. There was a panel discussion by senior academics on the general theme of peacebuilding and how to prepare for it. A discussion among the students followed, where each student spoke on behalf of a religion that was not theirs. This is significant because peacebuilding cannot remain an idea discussed by specialists at conferences. It has to become part of the way institutions educate and prepare people for life in a plural society.

The Faculty of Health-Care Sciences at Eastern University has provided a model through its Peace Medicine course modules that were introduced to the curricular as a compulsory core course over 10 years ago. Two senior academics, Dr Kuveriel Eliyas Karunakaran and Dr Thillainathan Sathaananthan, have written a book on “Peace Medicine- A Health Care Concern” that was published five years ago. Its Peace Medicine Module integrates principles of medical ethics, compassion, equity, social justice and community engagement into health education and practice. In his introduction, former Vice Chancellor of Eastern University, Prof T Jayasingam noted “This book is an introduction to a theme which had already been operating in the Faculty of Health Care Sciences as a course.”

Doctors, nurses and health workers know better than anyone the harm that war and violence does. They are the people who treat the wounds and trauma that violence leaves behind. In a hospital, a patient is not asked what their religion or ethnicity is before they are treated. Health care is one of the places where peace is practised every day. The Faculty has therefore found a way of connecting its professional responsibilities with the wider social responsibility of peacebuilding. The question is whether this experience can be replicated throughout the country, at universities and at other educational institutions, so that peacebuilding becomes part of the consciousness of education itself. If that happens on a sufficient scale, it can begin to generate a culture of peace that becomes increasingly difficult to reverse.

Local Action

The Eastern University event corresponded closely to the United Nations theme for this year’s International Day of Peace, “Invest in Peace – For Everyone, Everywhere, Every Day”, which honours the “everyday architects of peace”, people driving local action, laying the groundwork for stability and building lasting peace from the ground up. The emphasis on investment is important. An investment means that something is put in: time, courage and resources. There is no more violent conflict in Sri Lanka today. But the absence of war does not automatically produce a culture of peace. The factors that fed the country’s conflict have not disappeared from the world. Racism, corruption and the violation of laws and human rights are the raw materials of conflict. So too are unresolved grievances, discrimination and the failure to recognise the suffering of others.

A country that does not deal with its past does not escape it. The past can return in the next generation. This is why the experience of Eastern University needs to be replicated countrywide, both at universities and at other educational institutions. The objective should not be to turn every academic discipline into peace studies. Rather, peacebuilding needs to become part of the consciousness of education itself. Eastern University shows that a medical faculty can develop Peace Medicine. A law faculty can examine the relationship between justice, rights and peace. Faculties of education can prepare teachers to work in diverse communities, while the humanities and social sciences can examine the different narratives through which communities understand their histories. Every institution can find its own way of making peacebuilding relevant to what it teaches.

Sri Lanka has had many declarations, pledges and programmes in the past. What matters is whether these produce changes in behaviour and institutional practice. Peacebuilding requires confronting difficult issues rather than avoiding them. It requires respect for different identities, but also engagement across those identities. It requires dealing with grievances in the present while also addressing unresolved issues from the past. It requires truth, accountability, reparations and guarantees of non-recurrence. It requires people to learn that the rights of another community do not diminish their own rights. The International Peace Day event at Eastern University was evidence of a change in the way at least some academics in a part of the country deeply affected by war are thinking about their responsibilities. Peace needs to be invested in and the most important investment will be in the minds of those who will inherit the future.

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Quality assured education commodities

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by Ahilan Kadirgamar

I have always noticed the little paper tags that are inside the packaging of some products that say quality assured or quality control. I often wonder who might have checked the product and stamped that tag, but I also forget the tag soon enough. Decades later, when I entered academia, I was taken aback by the emphasis placed on quality assurance in our universities. It is not something that could be forgotten and done away with; the entire university system is obsessed with quality assurance.

Beginning with the staff induction programme, quality assurance is drilled into the newly recruited lecturers. It is the norm, not seen as doing any harm and only trying to improve quality. It is accepted as given, and not questioned. Quality Assurance Cells and Committees are omnipresent and hover above the Departments and, at times, even the Faculty Boards. Quality Assurance reviews are feared by the Deans and Vice Chancellors. University life itself seems secondary to the rule of quality assurance. What do we make of this system of quality assurance and what are its implications for our university system?

Corporate speak

Universities globally have been going through major changes with neoliberal education policies. In many countries, universities increasingly became corporatised to be run like businesses in the 1980s. As state support for universities declined, cost cutting became the norm. They started hiring adjunct or part-time staff. Many public non-fee levying universities around the world began to charge fees. Decade by decade, tuition fees became more and more exorbitant, forcing students to take student loans. The total student debt in the United States now stands at close to US$ 2 trillion; which is about 20 times the GDP of Sri Lanka. As the higher education landscape transformed in the West, university administrations began to recruit Presidents, Vice Chancellors and administrative officials with corporate backgrounds and experience.

Such corporatisation of universities in the West has since been imported into countries like Sri Lanka, introducing a new corporate vocabulary, including quality assurance, graduate competencies, programme outcomes, intended learning outcomes, etc. University teaching has become secondary to documenting so-called outcomes. The teacher-student relationship, the environment of the lecture hall and even administering the university have been over-determined by the processes of ensuring quality. How did such major changes come about in such a short time? Indeed, academics of just two generation ago, would never have heard of these terms and processes in the Sri Lankan university system.

World Bank Trojan horse

Since the early 2000s there have been a number of World Bank projects that have drastically changed the character of Sri Lankan universities. Quality assurance as a central agenda within universities, and many other changes to the working of our universities, came through these World Bank initiatives. The Improving Relevance and Quality of Undergraduate Education (IRQUE) project and Higher Education for the 21st Century (HETC) project were two such earlier projects that set up the Quality Assurance and Accreditation Unit (QAAU) under the University Grants Commission (UGC) and established systematic quality assurance reviews for state universities. The public often thinks these are grants from the World Bank to modernise our universities. However, they are not grants but loans.

The most recent such project, Accelerating Higher Education Expansion and Development (AHEAD) is a US$ 100 million loan from the World Bank implemented from 2018 to 2023, which consolidated the quality assurance structures from the earlier projects. Furthermore, these projects are implemented with tremendous arrogance, prioritising their implementation over all other concerns in the universities, when the project over six years for example accounts for just one fourth of our budget allocation for universities this year.

The AHEAD project drastically changed course curricula, sought to increase student enrolment in science, technology, engineering, mathematics (STEM) disciplines, commercialise the university research agenda and create university-business linkages. All of this was pushed to supposedly help us face development challenges. We have heard the ideological attack on our universities and even students claiming they are “unemployable graduates”. These changes to our higher education system were supposedly going to create jobs and increase employment.

The irony of the AHEAD project is that just as it was ending in 2023, apparently after having reached its targets, the Sri Lankan economy was collapsing. The World Bank often gets the direction of causality wrong. It is the economy that creates jobs for graduates, and not the training or kind of graduates that create jobs. It is decades of World Bank policies, and those of its ideological twin the IMF, that have led to such high youth unemployment, not only in Sri Lanka but also in many other countries in the global South.

Sri Lanka entered an IMF agreement in March 2023 and started a new Country Partnership Framework with the World Bank in June 2023. These programmes have little to say about, and actively discourage, government initiatives that aim to create an industrial policy or an employment creation policy. Instead, they push for austerity measures, which not only restrict the allocation for education among other sectors, but also end up contracting the economy to the detriment of increasing employment. Their goal is the commercialisation of higher education, to make universities into businesses and run them like factories.

In this context, the ideology of quality assurance is powerful. The International Organisation for Standardisation (ISO), whose different standards are necessary for marketing, is the institution that came up with the concept of “quality assurance”. It promoted quality assurance as a process of identifying defected products. Therefore, when the World Bank promotes this conceptual framing, our students are, in fact, seen as products on the assembly line, with quality assurance processes aiming to prevent the release of defected products from the university system. For the US$ 100 million we borrowed for the AHEAD project and the many more million dollars in similar World Bank projects, there is no evidence of increased employment of graduates.

Commodity fetishism

Over a century and a half ago, Karl Marx critiqued the economic analysis prevalent at that time that associated some inherent or monetary value for commodities without considering the social relations that underlie the production of those commodities. Marx called this commodity fetishism. Furthermore, he theorised that such commodity fetishism was also a reason for the alienation of human beings from the world. If our labour and what we produce is seen devoid of the social relations that underlie them, we lose our connection with the people and the world. In this process we become alienated from what we produce and the world.

We are now in a world where our students themselves are fetishised as commodities for the market. Universities are no longer communities concerned about knowledge and human growth, but mere factories producing commodities, which have to be produced without defects to be marketed. In this way, quality assurance has become the cause for the alienation of students, academics and our universities themselves, from the larger relationship with our economy and society.

Our university system does need reform. It is grossly underfunded and not providing the financial support and facilities for our students. Universities have become hierarchical spaces without the academic freedom and democratic ethos necessary for producing knowledge. Academics and students need to engage more with their communities to make their learning and research meaningful, not to mention their contribution to and integration with society. However, when it comes to even questions of governance and regulation of the universities, such concerns are merely reduced to improving quality. In our contemporary times, this singular focus on quality assurance, as opposed to addressing the larger structural issues, is crippling our universities. There may be no way out, but to put back quality assurance where it started, those little tags on goods, to perhaps be noticed but quickly forgotten.

Ahilan Kadirgamar is a political economist and Senior Lecturer, University of Jaffna.

(Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies)

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Thailand’s biggest new global star …

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The entertainment scene, globally, is agog with excitement, and, why not!

Yes, a new global star has emerged … from Thailand, and she hit the headlines by winning America’s Got Talent.

Rattikarn Amloy, known to millions by her stage name Nene Royal, was crowned the winner of America’s Got Talent (AGT) Season 21 at the live finale at Pasadena Civic Auditorium, California, taking home the USD 1 million grand prize.

The 16-year-old rocker, from the holiday island of Phuket (I’ve been to Phuket, courtesy Tourism Authority of Thailand), has struck a power chord around the world, and is the first Thai national ever to win the hit NBC show.

She beat nine other finalists, including runner-up magician Geno Ploeger, after a blistering final performance.

Nene’s story is pure rock and roll fairy-tale. She says she picked up a guitar at age seven, fell in love at the first chord, and taught herself mostly by watching videos online. That dedication earned her a music scholarship to Kajonkiet International School Phuket.

Her audition at America’s Got Talent — a swaggering, shredding rendition of The Cranberries’ classic ‘Zombie’ — exploded online, amassing over 200 million views across AGT’s platforms, more than any act this season.

She kept wowing: ‘Hysteria’ by Muse, then ‘Black Hole Sun’ by Soundgarden which earned her Spice Girl Mel B’s Golden Buzzer, sending her straight to the live shows.

For the final, she unleashed ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Judge Howie Mandel shouted: “You should win. Give her the million, America.” Mel B praised her “mysterious, mystical stage presence”.

And for the grand finale, she lived every teen rocker’s dream — performing on stage, alongside US rock giants Linkin Park.

When host Terry Crews announced her as winner, the teenager collapsed to the stage floor in tears. “I’m very happy and you know I’m emotional right now,” she said.

And Thailand erupted. Her school held watch parties, posting: “You did it, congratulations, champion. We are so proud of you.”

Even Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul sent a personal congratulation. He had earlier hosted Nene at Government House in July, where she played guitar while he sang a Thai rock song. His office said her talent “brought pride to Thai people.”

Corporate Thailand also rallied behind her — Charoen Pokphand Foods, owned by billionaire Dhanin Chearavanont, even rented a giant billboard in Times Square, New York, to cheer her on.

With her blistering guitar solos, rock-ballad shrieks and fearless spirit, little Nene Royal has just become Thailand’s biggest new global star.

What’s more, this amazing teenager will be bringing her powerful vocals, guitar skills and signature rock-metal style to the stage, as opening act, before one of the world’s biggest rock bands, America’s Avenged Sevenfold, in Singapore, on 13 October.

Unfortunately, we are still to see a local artiste, grab the spotlight, on a global scale … like Thailand’s Nene.

Yes, they do shine, but mostly on social media, and that, too, with the aid of AI (Artificial Intellegence).

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