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Disability studies established in Lanka, Nalin’s heart attack in Johannesburg

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Some remarkable Japanese CBR workers

(Excerpted from Memories that Linger: My journey through
the world of disability
by Padmani Mendis)

The work done by the Disability Studies Unit (DSU) in Sri Lanka I have chronicled with my memories at home in Sri Lanka in a later section. Here let me recall but one other outstanding contribution that the DSU made at that time to the pursuit of disability studies and its practice. Through an agreement signed with the Child Health Unit of the University of London and the Great Ormond Street Hospital, London, a course for the education of Speech and Language Therapists (SLTs) was pioneered in 1998.

Since we had just one SLT at the time, we arranged for the London counterparts to send us six SLT teachers a year, each for one month for a period of six years, until some of ours could take over teaching functions. They also sent us Mary Wickenden as a full-time course coordinator for three years. Kelaniya University would establish relevant posts in the DSU by this time. What started as a diploma course became a degree course not much later. Soon those graduates were following masters degrees and then doing their doctoral degrees.

We started by selling our SLT course to the Ministry of Health for just six students at a cost of Rupees 90,000 per student per year. The ministry was required to establish a cadre and increase it annually. Private students were also enrolled. The DSU continued as a self-financing unit. When diplomas became degrees, I believe that initiative was no longer needed because the costs were met by the university.

The DSU is now a Department of Disability Studies or DDS with a large cadre of staff carrying out two degree courses. It has in the chair a Professor of Childhood Disability. A Disability Resource Centre to support disabled students and a Centre for Disability Research chaired by the Dean run alongside the DDS. The DDS is also the technical resource for the National Centre for the Rehabilitation of Children run by the University. It is called Ayathi.

Parting with satisfaction and fulfilment

I was sad to leave the DSU. Prof. Carlo Fonseka was no more the Dean. When leadership changes, so do policies. Disability was no longer viewed as a social issue and one of human rights. This was a Faculty of Medicine. It was made known to me that the responsibility for running the DSU would be taken over by a Senior Medical Teacher.

It was time for me to go. I left with a sense of satisfaction and fulfilment. I look back on that experience with an immense sense of joy. And of appreciation to the people of Sweden who made that possible. And then I continued on my journey in the World of Disability. This time with invitations also from the Japanese and the Norwegians.

Japan and Norway, major CBR supporters

Looking back, I wonder how I may, at this time of my life, share with you adequately my memories of all those other great individuals and organisations who contributed to the growth and development of Community Based Rehabilitation (CBR) and with whom I had a relationship in those early decades. All those people, those who lived with disability and those who did not, were concerned about improving the lot of a neglected, often oppressed section of our society. A few who I have not written about as yet come to mind. Of them, two press urgently on my memory. They are the Japanese and the Norwegians. Although I will spend some time with these two, that is not to say I have forgotten the many others. So before I go to those, let me share with you memories of Handicap International and of a personal experience in South Africa.

Handicap International

Handicap International, better known perhaps as HI, is one that brings back memories. They invited me to work in Nepal on many occasions to see the Nepalese on their way with CBR. I first met HI as a new-born in 1982 as Operation Handicap International or OHI. OHI had its headquarters in Lyon, France, not far from Geneva. Its co-founder, Jean-Baptiste Richardier, met us often at WHO and gave us valuable information and advice on appropriate assistive devices to include in the WHO Manual. And on other matters in general.

My relationship with HI was a long one though we did not meet frequently. It continued until much later, when they would call me in Colombo for briefings and discussions leading to work when needed. I hear that it is now called Humanity and Inclusion with branches in many countries. The name change was apparently to reflect that their work was no more confined to disabled people. It is also extended to other vulnerable groups. My, how it has grown in 40 years. Just wonderful.

South Africa, University of Witwatersrand and a Personal Experience

I cannot forget Marjorie Concha, a CBR pioneer in South Africa and Professor of Occupational Therapy at Witwatersrand University, Johannesburg, and her staff. Marj invited me over to meet with professionals in that part of the world and to visit a CBR project started by her department. Plans were first a three-day meeting with the professionals. Then a weekend at Krueger National Park with Marj and her husband Ettel, and thereafter on to CBR. The project was in Tintswalo in North Eastern Transvaal and adjoining the park.

This was a rare occasion on which Nalin had joined me. South Africa and Krueger wildlife could not be missed. But that was not to be.

At the end of the third day and with the end of the meeting, Nalin took ill. The hospital doctor instructed us to go to the Heart Hospital a few kilometres down the road (from our hotel). We found out later that this hospital was built for whites only during the apartheid regime. No expense had therefore been spared. It was the best that it could be. Thanks to the great Nelson Mandela, it was now open also to blacks, browns, the yellow-skinned and to all colours of the rainbow.

The Heart Hospital in Johannesburg

The warm and friendly young native African doctor who saw us was a cricket fan and knew well of our country. Sri Lanka was known all over the world not just for our tea, but also for our cricket. He talked of Arjuna, Murali and Aravinda. Sri Lankan Cricket was reason enough for his special concern.

Soon he told us that Nalin had had a heart attack. He arranged for Nalin to be admitted immediately. By this time it was nearly midnight but the Specialist came without delay. He told me the damage to the heart was extensive and severe. He had Nalin put on all the necessary life-saving machines. He said he would be back in the morning and carry out the required tests to make an accurate diagnosis.

He advised me to go back to the hotel and return at seven when he would be back. When I did go back in the morning, Nalin was in heart failure and in a coma. He remained in that state for the next four days. I was allowed to sit by his bedside all day. I had my meals in the hospital canteen. Nalin had a specialist nursing sister attending on him full-time, monitoring him closely. Each day would be written on his bed-head ticket, “Patient’s condition uncertain. Family informed.”

Back at the hotel on that first night there was much to be done. Communication by fax with the insurance people in London was a priority. But guess what? The insurance people informed the hospital that they would not meet our cost. We found out later that this was the reason – apparently Sri Lankans were notorious for travel insurance fraud. They would take out a travel insurance, go to a place like the UK, have pre-planned surgery and make costly insurance claims. So the London insurance people presumed we were one of the same breed. They refused our claim.

Fortunately, the owner of our insurance agency in Sri Lanka was Nihal Senaratne. Nihal came up trumps. He told the insurance people what the consequences of their refusal would be. All Nalin’s bills were settled. Otherwise that experience would at that time have cost us about USD 20,000. Such was the hospital. Such was the quality of care. Cheap in terms of the result.

Meanwhile my Lecture Tour was put an end to. But Marj and her staff did not end their relationship with me. They were in touch with me constantly through every day. I told them what I needed urgently was to get to a shopping centre. Two colleagues took me to one where I could buy for Nalin a couple of pairs of pyjamas. As a Sri Lankan, he wore only sarong at night. I was preparing for when he would come out of the coma. I knew he would recover. He had to. And then he had to have some smart pyjamas to walk around the hospital in.

Being with the Japanese

The Japanese came into CBR later, having first I suppose to look into their own disability situation. If I may name one individual who led the support for CBR in that amazing country, it was Yukiko Oka Nakanishi. She had lived with severe disability since the age of four years when she had polio. Yukiko’s empathy with people in the developing world who had disability themselves and for others of us who worked in the field of disability was infinite.

With her knowledge and commitment she earned the trust of JICA, the Japan International Cooperation Agency. She was one of its consultants and advisers it seems to me forever. JICA is the implementing agency of official Japanese development aid that supports socio-economic development and economic stability in developing countries. Influenced by Japan’s disabled people, JICA continued to push forward strategies to realise the full participation and equality of disabled persons globally.

Yukiko Oka Nakanishi

Yukiko was married to Shoji Nakanishi who also lived with very severe disability from a very young age. They are perfect partners, complementing each other’s work based on their life’s experiences before they met. And then continuing successfully to work towards changing the situation for others who had to face those same situations. She, through the Asia Disability Institute she set up. And Shoji, through the Human Care Association he founded.

Both promoted the Independent Living Movement (ILM). Shoji set up ILM through the Human Care Association. He took a leading role in it in his country, in the Asia-Pacific region and globally. Together, they harnessed the cooperation of many other fellow Japanese to change the situation of disabled people in their own country. And in other countries. And they continue to do so.

I had the good fortune to first meet Yukiko when she took up a post for three years at ESCAP, the Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific in Bangkok. Her task was, broadly speaking, to stimulate interest in disability issues in member countries of ESCAP and to discuss with them what they could do about it. Numerous meetings and workshops were held in Bangkok towards achieving this purpose and I was sometimes invited to share experiences of CBR at these events. ESCAP comes within the UN Economic and Social Commission headquartered in New York.

An Unusual Experience

I will illustrate how intensive CBR workshops generally were with a personal experience. I was the rapporteur at a multi-country workshop held in Khon Khaen city in north-eastern Thailand in 1990. Yukiko and her boss were working on the report with me. We worked long hours to get daily reports done. Then we had to get the final report ready by Friday morning so the participants could approve it.

We worked all night Thursday. We had it ready and photocopied. But it gave us time only for a quick shower and an even quicker breakfast so we could get to the workshop in time. The workshop ended by 1 p.m. for lunch. By 3 p.m. I was on a local flight to Bangkok with a direct connection to an international flight back home to Colombo.

Quite soon after boarding the flight to Colombo, I started feeling somewhat groggy. I held on for as long as I could, but decided finally to call a stewardess. Before I knew it, I found myself waking up flat-out on the aisle with a circle of worried faces peering down at me. I had collapsed.

When the flight landed, I was brought down in a wheelchair in the cargo lift. To be taken directly to the Medical Centre at the airport. When I said I was a diabetic, the good doctor gave me a glassful of glucose, quite sickening to drink and quite unnecessary I thought. I told her the reason for my collapse was fatigue. I was still unfit to walk, so the stewardess wheeled me out. Nalin was waiting to collect me. He nearly collapsed himself when he saw me being pushed out in a wheelchair.



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

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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.).

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‘Death at the Sign of the Rook’

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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.

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Safety, security and teamwork in aviation

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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.)

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