Features
Hard times and finally making the grade
Anna Maria worked as a cleaner to help tide us over
I was admitted to practice as a barrister and solicitor of the Supreme Court of Victoria on December 1, 1971. My dear friend, Ronnie de Kretser, was a partner in the firm of Weigall and Crowther, and he arranged for my admission to be moved by Robert Brooking Esq., QC, later Justice Brooking, and a young barrister by the name of Tim Smith, later Justice Smith.
I arrived for work the following Monday and was shown into my office. This was the second shock I received in the space of just over one month. It was not a room but a little cubicle about 10 feet long and six feet wide. It was the space between the boardroom and the main office complex. A large filing cabinet was placed by its entrance and next to it was a small desk and chair for me to use. The only redeeming feature of the cubicle was the large window to the left of my desk which ran all the way from floor to ceiling and looked down onto Lonsdale Street. Little did I realise that I was soon to spend many an unhappy hour looking disconsolately at that view.
Shortly after I settled down, Max bustled in with a dictating machine and several files. He opened the filing cabinet, popped several of the files onto my desk and gave me one to peruse. Each file contained a letter from the insurance company together with an accident report and an investigator’s report. I proceeded immediately to advise. Things were really beginning to look up.
One drawback was that neither Max nor Oscar had told me what they wanted of me, nor what I was required to do. As an advocate/ barrister in Ceylon, my advices were long and learned. I analyzed the facts in detail and wrote learned advices on the law when I was briefed to advise clients. I decided to follow my Ceylonese practice and provided the managers of these insurance companies with a comprehensive advice with regard to each file.
I was completely unaware that all the managers of these insurance companies wanted was to know whether they were liable to indemnify the insured, and what amount they had to pay. Neither Max nor Oscar told me that my advices were completely inappropriate to the extent that I was spending far too much time on each individual report. Instead, they tore my letters of advice to shreds. They even corrected my English in ways that were almost impossible to comprehend.
Let me give you an example of how pedantic these gentlemen were. On one occasion I had written: “The duty of an occupier to take care is …” The letter came back with my words scored off and replaced with the following words: “An occupier’s duty to take care is …”
I thought to myself, “Good God, I took Second-Class Honours in law at Cambridge, and had to come out to the colonies to have my English corrected!” This happened every day and my letters of advice came back completely mutilated so I had to rewrite them in my principal’s English. A few years later I showed these mutilated advices to my dear friend Louis Voumard QC and he was horrified.
But this was the least of my worries. Max treated me with contempt from the commencement of my employment. There was nothing racist in his treatment of me, for Max treated all his employees with contempt. He was a second-class bully (it would be insulting to call him a first-class bully). Many years later I was discussing my experiences of Max with a Queen’s Counsel at the Victorian Bar, who told me that when his son was employed under Max, he suffered a nervous breakdown and had to leave the firm.
On my first day at work when Max had brought me a dictating machine and files, I thanked him and called him “Max”. He remonstrated with me and informed me that I was just an employee in the firm and that I had to call him “Mr Williams”. A week later, I met him in the lavatory, got onto the little platform and stood beside him at the urinal. I looked down on him for he was only 5’4″ tall and said, “Mr Williams, I am sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk to each other.” He brushed past me muttering, “What is there to talk about?”
When I occasionally walked into a room to discuss a problem I had with a particular file, he would look disdainfully at me, pick up the telephone, swivel around in his chair, dial a telephone number and carry on a conversation with an unknown person for many minutes while I stood there looking up at the ceiling and counting the tiles. When he had finished, he would swivel around, glare at me and abuse me for disturbing him. This happened regularly and repeatedly; after some time my soul was completely battered and bruised, my confidence shattered and my mind in turmoil.
I was now at my wits end. I was too proud to go back to Ceylon and face the humiliation of having failed in Australia. My misery was compounded by the fact that I would go to the common room to have lunch every day, as I knew no one in the city of Melbourne. Occasionally, a vicious young employee solicitor would join us for lunch. He paid no heed to the fact that I was a stranger in a foreign land and needed to be treated with kindness and consideration. Whenever I joined in the conversation, he would make a point of humiliating and ridiculing me. I remember one occasion when I brought in some photographs of our tea plantation in Ceylon, this solicitor asked me where I had got these photographs from and why I was pretending to “skite over other people’s property.”
My only friend in the firm was Ian Robertson (now Judge Robertson). He had left the firm to go to the Victorian Bar and I had no one to turn to. I seriously contemplated taking my life, but I could not leave my dear sweet wife alone and friendless in Australia. I would look down at the people walking in Lonsdale Street. They seemed so happy and carefree. Did they know the turmoil in my heart and in my soul? I could not get another job: Eva Mahlab, who ran a legal employment agency and had obtained this job for me, bluntly told me that she could not find me any other employment.
I felt lost, I was desperate. In my hour of darkness I turned to valium. I started taking five mg at night in March 1972. By June I was taking another five mg at lunchtime. Looking back over the years, I cannot comprehend how I managed to drive to work and return-home driving down the South-Eastern Freeway, let alone do a day’s work. My wife was desperate. I had lost all interest in life. I would return home after work and sit in front of the television, staring blankly at the screen until it was time to have dinner and go to bed. The only pleasure I had in my life was at weekends when I could forget for a while about my employment.
One morning in the middle of September 1972, Oscar called me into his room. Max and Oscar had divided the bullying between them over the previous nine months, with each one unwittingly outdoing each other. Oscar smiled sarcastically and said, “Nimal, Max and I have been discussing your future in the firm. We have decided that you have no future in this firm. You are of no use to us because you have no brains.” This was a body blow. I sat there in a state of shock, fearing what was coming next. My sorry little world was about to disintegrate completely. He continued: “We realize that working in a firm doing defendants’ work is far too complicated for you. We thought you ought to join a firm doing personal injuries work for plaintiffs.” I looked down at the floor.
“Another alternative for you would be to go to the Victorian Bar. One of our articled clerks who was a complete fool went to the Bar and we heard that he is doing quite well. That may be your answer, for you don’t need any brains or ability to be a success at the Victorian Bar.” This was the last straw. I went back to my little cubicle, lay my head on my hands and burst out crying. Even 10 mg of valium a day was no help. I was lost, living in a foreign country with no one to turn to for help. That was the longest day of my life. I drove home as I usually did in a daze, but on this occasion I was completely shattered. I have no recollection of how I got home; all I can remember was cars flashing past me.
I drove into the garage. I could not get out of the car. My limbs were frozen. After some time, Anna Maria came to the garage to see why I had not come in. She opened the passenger door and got in. I fell into her arms sobbing and crying. Anna Maria had come from a little village in Northern Italy called Asolo. She had left school at the age of 15 to work, and had worked until we got married. I then told her that she would never have to work again as I would provide for her. Now when I told her what had happened, she said quite firmly that I had to go to the Victorian Bar.
I asked her sarcastically what she knew about the Victorian Bar. I told her that this was impossible, for no Australian solicitor would brief a coloured man. I asked her how we were going to manage. Where was the money to come from? I couldn’t get money out of Ceylon due to stringent exchange control regulations. She looked at me and smiled. She told me that every morning for some months, she had been walking along Glenferrie Road, Malvern to do her shopping. About a month before, she had met two Italian nuns. She heard them speaking in Italian and joined them in their conversation. They asked her whether she was working, to which she replied, “yes’ They then asked her whether she would like to work at the St Francis Xavier Cabrini Hospital as there was a vacancy for a cleaner, cleaning floors at the hospital. Anna Maria said yes, but she could only work part-time as she had to return home before her husband got home from work. She did not want him to know that she was working.
She had now been working for a few weeks as a cleaner at the hospital. The little extra money she earned from cleaning floors would come in useful for us. Anna Maria told me that she could now work-full time as a cleaner so that I could go to the Victorian Bar. She reminded me of the fact that I came from one of the great legal families in Ceylon and I had been on my way to the top of the legal profession in Ceylon before we left for Australia. She was the only one who had confidence that I would be a success at the Victorian Bar.
I went into the house, had a shower and felt like a new man. I telephoned several Ceylon-born solicitors in Australia who were practicing in Melbourne, including Ronnie de Kretser. Ronnie had been instrumental in helping me get my employment with Max as he was one of my referees. Every single Ceylon-born solicitor, without exception, cautioned me about going to the Bar, and advised me that no Australian solicitor would brief a coloured man. A few days after I made my decision to go to the Bar, I went to a friend’s son’s wedding. It was a Ceylonese affair. One cantankerous, nasty old Ceylonese-born solicitor, told the assembled guests that he had an announcement to make. In loud stentorian tones, he told the assembled gathering that I was going to the Victorian Bar and that there were easier ways of committing suicide. Great stuff, that.
The night after I made my decision, I threw my remaining valium pills in the bin. The next morning I strode into Oscar’s office and told him that I would take his advice and go to the Victorian Bar. One interesting feature of my employment was that during the nine months I had been there, I would be regularly called upon to contribute 20 cents for presents for employees who were leaving
the firm, even though I did not know any of them. I must apologize for this pettiness, but when I left, I did not receive a present, nor did Max and Oscar wish me well.I can now look back years later with considerable satisfaction. Although the early years were difficult, I am the author of Voumard: The Sale of Land, a work of recognized excellence in Australia, listed in the top twenty legal books in Australia. I am an authority on land law and a Queen’s Counsel. I was also appointed as a judge on the Court of Appeal in Fiji. I wonder what would have happened if I had not gone to the Victorian Bar?
My story has a happy ending. Supposedly it is Talleyrand who said, “Revenge is a dish best served cold” In 1986, I saw Oscar wandering around in Owen Dixon Chambers. He looked extremely sheepish when he saw me, for I was now a successful barrister. I had been invited to write a conveyancing manual and I took a leaf out of what Damon Runyan did when he wrote his first book: he dedicated it to his employer “who fired him with ambition”. I told Oscar that I was going to dedicate my work to Max “for firing me with ambition”.
I did write the conveyancing manual but certainly did not dedicate it to Max. I will be eternally grateful to Max and Oscar for giving me a helping hand to climb the rungs of the ladder of life in Australia.
Features
The NPP Government is more than a JVP offspring:
It is also different from all past governments as it faces new and different challenges
No one knows whether the already broken ceasefire between the US and Iran, with Israel as a reluctant adjunct, will last the full 10 days, or what will come thereafter. The world’s economic woes are not over and the markets are yo-yoing in response to Trump’s twitches and Iran’s gate keeping at the Strait of Hormuz. The gloomy expert foretelling is that full economic normalcy will not return until the year is over even if the war were to end with the ceasefire. That means continuing challenges for Sri Lanka and more of the tough learning in the art of governing for the NPP.
The NPP government has been doing what most governments in Asia have been doing to cope with the current global crisis, which is also an Asian crisis insofar as oil supplies and other supply chains are concerned. What the government can and must do additionally is to be totally candid with the people and keep them informed of everything that it is doing – from monitoring import prices to the timely arranging of supplies, all the details of tender, the tracking of arrivals, and keeping the distribution flow through the market without bottlenecks. That way the government can eliminate upstream tender rackets and downstream hoarding swindles. People do not expect miracles from their government, only honest, sincere and serious effort in difficult circumstances. Backed up by clear communication and constant public engagement.
But nothing is going to stop the flow of criticisms against the NPP government. That is a fact of Sri Lankan politics. Even though the opposition forces are weak and have little traction and even less credibility, there has not been any drought in the criticisms levelled against the still fledgling government. These criticisms can be categorized as ideological, institutional and oppositional criticisms, with each category having its own constituency and/or commentators. The three categories invariably overlap and there are instances of criticisms that excite only the pundits but have no political resonance.
April 5 anniversary nostalgia
There is also a new line of criticism that might be inspired by the April 5 anniversary nostalgia for the 1971 JVP insurrection. This new line traces the NPP government to the distant roots of the JVP – its April 1965 founding “in a working-class home in Akmeemana, Galle” by a 22-year old Rohana Wijeweera and seven others; the short lived 1971 insurrection that was easily defeated; and the much longer and more devastating second (1987 to 1989) insurrection that led to the elimination of the JVP’s frontline leaders including Wijeweera, and brought about a change in the JVP’s political direction with commitment to parliamentary democracy. So far, so good, as history goes.
But where the nostalgic narrative starts to bend is in attempting a straight line connection from the 1965 Akmeemana origins of the JVP to the national electoral victories of the NPP in 2024. And the bend gets broken in trying to bridge the gap between the “founding anti-imperialist economics” of the JVP and the practical imperatives of the NPP government in “governing a debt-laden small open economy.” Yet this line of criticism differs from the other lines of criticism that I have alluded to, but more so for its moral purpose than for its analytical clarity. The search for clarity could begin with question – why is the NPP government more than a JVP offspring? The answer is not so simple, but it is also not too complicated.
For starters, the JVP was a political response to the national and global conditions of the 1960s and 1970s, piggybacking socialism on the bandwagon of ethno-nationalism in a bi-polar world that was ideologically split between status quo capitalism and the alternative of socialism. The NPP government, on the other hand, is not only a response to, but is also a product of the conditions of the 2010s and 2020s. The twain cannot be more different. Nothing is the same between then and now, locally and globally.
A pragmatic way to look at the differences between the origins of the JVP and the circumstances of the NPP government is to look at the very range of criticisms that are levelled against the NPP government. What I categorize as ideological criticisms include criticisms of the government’s pro-IMF and allegedly neo-liberal economic policies, as well as the government’s foreign policy stances – on Israel, on the current US-Israel war against Iran, the geopolitics of the Indian Ocean, and the apparent closeness to the Modi government in India. These criticisms emanate from the non-JVP left and Sinhala Buddhist nationalists.
Strands of nationalism
To digress briefly, there are several strands in the overall bundle of Sri Lankan nationalism. There is the liberal inclusive strand, the left-progressive strand, the exclusive Sinhala Buddhist Nationalist (SBN) strand, and the defensive strands of minority nationalisms. Given Sri Lanka’s historical political formations and alliances, much overlapping goes on between the different strands. The overlapping gets selective on an issue by issue basis, which in itself is not unwelcome insofar as it promotes plurality in place of exclusivity.
Historically as well, and certainly after 1956, the SBN strand has been the dominant strand of nationalism in Sri Lanka and has had the most influential say in every government until now. Past versions of the JVP frequently straddled the dominant SBN space. Currently, however, the dominant SBN strand is in one of its more dormant phases and the NPP government could be a reason for the current dormancy. This is an obvious difference between the old JVP and the new NPP.
A second set of criticisms, or institutional criticisms, emanate from political liberals and human rights activists and these are about the NPP government’s actions or non-actions in regard to constitutional changes, the future of the elected executive presidency, the status of provincial devolution and the timing of provincial council elections, progress on human rights issues, the resolution of unfinished postwar businesses including the amnesia over mass graves. These criticisms and the issues they represent are also in varying ways the primary concerns of the island’s Tamils, Muslims and the Malaiyaka (planntationn) Tamils. As with the overlapping between the left and the non-minority nationalists, there is also overlapping between the liberal activists and minority representatives.
A third category includes what might be called oppositional criticisms and they counterpose the JVP’s past against the NPP’s present, call into question the JVP’s commitment to multi-party democracy and raise alarms about a creeping constitutional dictatorship. This category also includes criticisms of the NPP government’s lack of governmental experience and competence; alleged instances of abuse of power, mismanagement and even corruption; alleged harassment of past politicians; and the failure to find the alleged mastermind behind the 2019 Easter bombings. At a policy and implementational level, there have been criticisms of the government’s educational reforms and electricity reforms, the responses to cyclone Ditwah, and the current global oil and economic crises. The purveyors of oppositional criticisms are drawn from the general political class which includes political parties, current and past parliamentarians, as well as media pundits.
Criticisms as expectations
What is common to all three categories of criticisms is that they collectively represent what were understood to be promises by the NPP before the elections, and have become expectations of the NPP government after the elections. It is the range and nature of these criticisms and the corresponding expectations that make the NPP government a lot more than a mere JVP offspring, and significantly differentiate it from every previous government.
The deliverables that are expected of the NPP government were never a part of the vocabulary of the original JVP platform and programs. The very mode of parliamentary politics was ideologically anathema to the JVP of Akmeemana. And there was no mention of or concern for minority rights, or constitutional reforms. On foreign policy, it was all India phobia without Anglo mania – a halfway variation of Sri Lanka’s mainstream foreign policy of Anglo mania and India phobia. For a party of the rural proletariat, the JVP was virulently opposed to the plantation proletariat. The JVP’s version of anti-imperialist economics would hardly have excited the Sri Lankan electorate at any time, and certainly not at the present time.
At the same time, the NPP government is also the only government that has genealogical antecedents to a political movement or organization like the JVP. That in itself makes the NPP government unique among Sri Lanka’s other governments. The formation of the NPP is the culmination of the evolution of the JVP that began after the second insurrection with the shedding of political violence, acceptance of political plurality and commitment to electoral democracy.
But the evolution was not entirely a process of internal transformation. It was also a response to a rapidly and radically changing circumstances both within Sri Lanka and beyond. This evolution has not been a rejection of the founding socialist purposes of the JVP in 1968, but their adaptation in the endless political search, under constantly changing conditions, for a non-violent, socialist and democratic framework that would facilitate the full development of the human potential of all Sri Lankans.
The burden of expectations is unmistakable, but what is also remarkable is their comprehensiveness and the NPP’s formal commitment to all of them at the same time. No previous government shouldered such an extensive burden or showed such a willing commitment to each and every one of the expectations. In the brewing global economic crisis, the criticisms, expectations and the priorities of the government will invariably be focussed on keeping the economy alive and alleviating the day-to-day difficulties of millions of Sri Lankan families. While what the NPP government can and must do may not differ much from what other Asian governments – from Pakistan to Vietnam – are doing, it could and should do better than what any and all past Sri Lankan governments did when facing economic challenges.
by Rajan Philips
Features
A Fragile Ceasefire: Pakistan’s Glory and Israel’s Sabotage
After threatening to annihilate one of the planet’s oldest civilizations, TACO* Trump chickened out again by grasping the ceasefire lifeline that Pakistan had assiduously prepared. Trump needed the ceasefire badly to stem the mounting opposition to the war in America. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu wanted the war to continue because he needed it badly for his political survival. So, he contrived a fiction and convinced Trump that Lebanon is not included in the ceasefire. Trump as usual may not have noticed that Pakistan’s Prime Minister Shehbaz Shariff had clearly indicated Lebanon’s inclusion in his announcement of the ceasefire at 7:50 PM, Tuesday, on X. Ten minutes before Donald Trump’s fake deadline.
True to form on Wednesday, Israel unleashed the heaviest assault by far on Lebanon, reportedly killing over 300 people, the highest single-day death toll in the current war. Iran responded by re-closing the Strait of Hormuz and questioning the need for talks in Islamabad over the weekend. There were other incidents as well, with an oil refinery attacked in Iran, and Iranian drones and missiles slamming oil and gas infrastructure in UAE, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain and Qatar.
The US tried to insist that Lebanon is not part of the ceasefire, with the argumentative US Vice President JD Vance, who was in Budapest, Hungary, campaigning for Viktor Orban, calling the whole thing a matter of “bad faith negotiation” as well as “legitimate misunderstanding” on the part of Iran, and warning Iran that “it would be dumb to jeopardise its ceasefire with Washington over Israel’s attacks in Lebanon.”
But as the attack in Lebanon drew international condemnation – from Pope Leo to UN Secretary General António Guterres, and several world leaders, and amidst fears of Lebanon becoming another Gaza with 1,500 people including 130 children killed and more than a million people displaced, Washington got Israel to stop its “lawn mowing” in southern Lebanon.
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu agreed to “open direct negotiations with Lebanon as soon as possible,”. Lebanese President Joeseph Aoun has also called for “a ceasefire between Israel and Lebanon, followed by direct negotiations between them.” Israel’s involvement in Lebanon remains a wild card that threatens the ceasefire and could scuttle the talks between the US and Iran scheduled for Saturday in Islamabad.
Losers and Winners
After the ceasefire, both the Trump Administration and Iran have claimed total victories while the Israeli government wants the war to continue. The truth is that after more than a month into nonstop bombing of Iran, America and Israel have won nothing. Only Iran has won something it did not have when Trump and Netanyahu started their war. Iran now has not only a say over but control of the Strait of Hormuz. The ceasefire acknowledges this. Both Trump and Netanyahu are under fire in their respective countries and have no allies in the world except one another.
The real diplomatic winner is Pakistan. Salman Rushdie’s palimpsest-country has emerged as a key player in global politics and an influential mediator in a volatile region. Pakistan’s Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif and Chief of Defence Field Marshal Asim Munir have both been praised by President Trump and credited for achieving the current ceasefire. The Iranian regime has also been effusive in its praise of Pakistan’s efforts.
It is Pakistan that persisted with the effort after initial attempts at backdoor diplomacy by Egypt, Pakistan and Türkiye started floundering. Sharing a 900 km border and deep cultural history with Iran, and having a skirmish of its own on the eastern front with Afghanistan, Pakistan has all the reason to contain and potentially resolve the current conflict in Iran. Although a majority Sunni Muslim country, Pakistan is home to the second largest Shia Muslim population after Iran, and is the easterly terminus of the Shia Arc that stretches from Lebanon. The country also has a mutual defense pact with Saudi Arabia that includes Pakistan’s nuclear cover for the Kingdom. An open conflict between Iran and Saudi Arabia would have put Pakistan in a dangerously awkward position.
It is now known and Trump has acknowledged that China had a hand in helping Iran get to the diplomatic table. Pakistan used its connections well to get Chinese diplomatic reinforcement. Pakistani Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar flew to Beijing to brief his Chinese counterpart and secured China’s public support for the diplomatic efforts. The visit produced a Five-Point Plan that became a sequel to America’s 15-point proposal and the eventual ten-point offer by Iran.
There is no consensus between parties as to which points are where and who is agreeing to what. The chaos is par for the course the way Donald Trumps conducts global affairs. So, all kudos to Pakistan for quietly persisting with old school toing and froing and producing a semblance of an agreement on a tweet without a parchment.
It is also noteworthy that Israel has been excluded from all the diplomatic efforts so far. And it is remarkable, but should not be surprising, the way Trump has sidelined Isreal from the talks. Prime Minister Netanyahu has been enjoying overwhelming support of Israelis for starting the war of his life against Iran and getting the US to spearhead it. But now the country is getting confused and is exposed to Iranian missiles and drones far more than ever before. The Israeli opposition is finally coming alive realizing what little has Netanyahu’s wars have achieved and at what cost. Israel has alienated a majority of Americans and has no ally anywhere else.
It will be a busy Saturday in Islamabad, where the US and Iranian delegations are set to meet. Iran would seem to have insisted and secured the assurance that the US delegation will be led by Vice President Vance, while including Trump’s personal diplomats – Steve Witkoff and son-in-law Jared Kushner. Iran has not announced its team but it is expected to be led, for protocol parity, by Iran’s Speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, and will likely include its suave Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi. Vice President Vance’s attendance will be the most senior US engagement with Iran since Secretary of State John Kerry negotiated the 2015 nuclear deal under President Obama.
The physical arrangements for the talks are still not public although Islamabad has been turned into a security fortress given the stakes and risks involved. The talks are expected to be ‘indirect’, with the two delegations in separate rooms and Pakistani officials shuttling between them. The status of Iran’s enriched uranium and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz will be the major points of contention. After Netanyahu’s overreach on Wednesday, Lebanon is also on the short list
The 2015 nuclear deal (the Joint Comprehensive Action Plan) took months of negotiations and involved multiple parties besides the US and Iran, including China, France, Germany, UK, Russia and the EU. That served the cause of regional and world peace well until Trump tore up the deal to spite Obama. It would be too much to expect anything similar after a weekend encounter in Islamabad. But if the talks could lead to at least a permanent ceasefire and the return to diplomacy that would be a huge achievement.
(*As of 2025–2026, Donald Trump is nicknamed “TACO Trump” by Wall Street traders and investors as an acronym for “”. This term highlights a perceived pattern of him making strong tariff threats that cause market panic, only to later retreat or weaken them, causing a rebound.)
by Rajan Philips
Features
CIA’s hidden weapon in Iran
We are passing through the ten-day interregnum called a ceasefire over the War on Iran. The world may breathe briefly, but this pause is not reassurance—it is a deliberate interlude, a vacuum in which every actor positions for the next escalation. Iran is far from secure. Behind the veneer of calm, external powers and local forces are preparing, arming, and coordinating. The United States is unlikely to deploy conventional ground troops; the next moves will be executed through proxies whose behaviour will defy expectation. These insurgents are shaped, guided, and amplified by intelligence and technology, capable of moving silently, striking precisely, and vanishing before retaliation. The ceasefire is not peace—it is the prelude to disruption.
The Kurds, historically instruments of Tehran against Baghdad, are now vectors for the next insurgency inside Iran. This movement is neither organic nor local. It is externally orchestrated, with the CIA as the principal architect. History provides the blueprint: under Mohammad-Reza Shah Pahlavi, Kurdish uprisings were manipulated, never supported out of sympathy. They were instruments of leverage against Iraq, a way to weaken a rival while projecting influence beyond Iran’s borders. Colonel Isa Pejman, Iranian military intelligence officer who played a role in Kurdish affairs, recalled proposing support for a military insurgency in Iraq, only for the Shah to respond coldly: “[Mustafa] Barzani killed my Army soldiers… please forget it. The zeitgeist and regional context have been completely transformed.” The Kurds were pawns, but pawns with strategic weight. Pejman later noted: “When the Shah wrote on the back of the letter ‘Accepted’ to General Pakravan, I felt I was the true leader of the Kurdish movement.” The seeds planted then are now being activated under new, technologically empowered auspices.
Iran’s geographic vulnerabilities make this possible. The Shah understood the trap: a vast territory with porous borders, squeezed by Soviet pressure from the north and radical Arab states from the west. “We are in a really terrible situation since Moscow’s twin pincers coming down through Kabul and Baghdad surround us,” he warned Asadollah Alam. From Soviet support for the Mahabad Republic to Barzani’s dream of a unified Kurdistan, Tehran knew an autonomous Kurdish bloc could destabilize both Iraq and Iran. “Since the formation of the Soviet-backed Mahabad Republic, the Shah had been considerably worried about the Kurdish threat,” a US assessment concluded.
Today, the Kurds’ significance is operational, not symbolic. The CIA’s recent rescue of a downed F-15 airman using Ghost Murmur, a quantum magnetometry system, demonstrated the reach of technology in intelligence operations. The airman survived two days on Iranian soil before extraction. This was not a simple rescue; it was proof that highly mobile, technologically augmented operations can penetrate Iranian territory with surgical precision. The same logic applies to insurgency preparation: when individuals can be tracked through electromagnetic signatures, AI-enhanced surveillance, and drones, proxy forces can be armed, guided, and coordinated with unprecedented efficiency. The Kurds are no longer pawns—they are a living network capable of fracturing Iranian cohesion while providing deniability to foreign powers.
Iran’s engagement with Iraqi Kurds was always containment, not empowerment. The Shah’s goal was never Kurdish independence. “We do not approve an independent [Iraqi] Kurdistan,” he stated explicitly. Yet their utility as instruments of regional strategy was undeniable. The CIA’s revival of these networks continues a long-standing pattern: insurgent groups integrated into the wider calculus of international power. Israel, Iran, and the Kurds formed a triangular strategic relationship that terrified Baghdad. “For Baghdad, an Iranian-Israeli-Kurdish triangular alliance was an existential threat,” contemporary reports noted. This is the template for modern manipulation: a networked insurgency, externally supported, capable of destabilizing regimes from within while giving foreign powers plausible deniability.
Iran today faces fragility. Years of sanctions, repression, and targeted strikes have weakened educational and scientific hubs; Sharif University in Tehran, one of the country’s leading scientific centres, was bombed. Leaders, scholars, and innovators have been eliminated. Military readiness is compromised. Generations-long setbacks leave Iran exposed. Against this backdrop, a Kurdish insurgency armed with drones, AI-supported surveillance, and precision munitions could do more than disrupt—it could fracture the state internally. The current ten-day ceasefire is a mirage; the next wave of revolt is already being orchestrated.
CIA involvement is deliberate. Operations are coordinated with allied intelligence agencies, leveraging Kurdish grievances, mobility, and ethnolinguistic networks. The Kurds’ spread across Iran, Iraq, Turkey, and Syria provides operational depth—allowing insurgents to strike, vanish, and regroup with impunity. Barzani understood leverage decades ago: “We could be useful to the United States… Look at our strategic location on the flank of any possible Soviet advance into the Middle East.” Today, the calculation is inverted: Kurds are no longer instruments against Baghdad; they are potential disruptors inside Tehran itself.
Technology is central. Ghost Murmur’s ability to detect a single heartbeat remotely exemplifies how intelligence can underpin insurgent networks. Drones, satellite communications, AI predictive modeling, and battlefield sensors create an infrastructure that can transform a dispersed Kurdish insurgency into a high-precision operation. Iran can no longer rely on fortifications or loyalty alone; the external environment has been recalibrated by technology.
History provides the roadmap. The Shah’s betrayal of Barzani after the 1975 Algiers Agreement demonstrated that external actors can manipulate both Iranian ambitions and Kurdish loyalties. “The Shah sold out the Kurds,” Yitzhak Rabin told Kissinger. “We could not station our troops there and keep fighting forever,” the Shah explained to Alam. The Kurds are a pivot, not a cause. Networks once acting under Tehran’s influence are now being repurposed against it.
The insurgency exploits societal fissures. Kurdish discontent in Iran, suppressed for decades, provides fertile ground. Historical betrayal fuels modern narratives: “Barzani claimed that ‘Isa Pejman sold us out to the Shah and the Shah sold us out to the US.’” Intelligence agencies weaponize these grievances, pairing them with training, technological augmentation, and covert support.
Geopolitically, the stakes are immense. The Shah’s defensive-offensive doctrine projected Iranian influence outward to neutralize threats. Today, the logic is inverted: the same networks used to contain Iraq are being readied to contain Iran. A technologically augmented Kurdish insurgency, covertly backed, could achieve in months what decades of sanctions, diplomacy, or repression have failed to accomplish.
The operation will be asymmetric, high-tech, and dispersed. UAVs, quantum-enhanced surveillance, encrypted communications, and AI-directed logistics will dominate. Conventional Iranian forces are vulnerable to this type of warfare. As Pejman reflected decades ago, “Our Army was fighting there, rather than the Kurds who were harshly defeated… How could we keep such a place?” Today, the challenge is magnified by intelligence superiority on the insurgents’ side.
This is not a temporary flare-up. The CIA and its allies are constructing a generational network of influence. Experience from Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon proves these networks endure once operationalised. The Shah recognized this: “Iran’s non-state foreign policy under the Shah’s reign left a lasting legacy for the post-Revolution era.” Today, those instruments are being remade as vectors of foreign influence inside Iran.
The future is stark. Iran faces not simply external threats, but a carefully engineered insurgency exploiting historical grievances, technological superiority, and precise intelligence. The Kurds are central. History, technology, and geopolitical calculation converge to create a transformative threat. Tehran’s miscalculations, betrayals, and suppressed grievances now form the lattice for this insurgency. The Kurds are positioned not just as an ethnic minority, but as a vector of international strategy—Tehran may be powerless to stop it.
Iran’s containment strategies have been weaponized, fused with technology, and inverted against it. The ghosts of Barzani’s Peshmerga, the shadows of Algiers, and the Shah’s strategic vision now converge with Ghost Murmur, drones, and AI. Tehran faces a paradox: the instruments it once controlled are now calibrated to undermine its authority. The next Kurdish revolt will not only fight in the mountains but in the electromagnetic shadows where intelligence operates, consequences are lethal, and visibility is scarce.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
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