Features
How Oslo’s handshake became the world’s most expensive photo-op
The Peace Mirage:
Remember that iconic photograph of September 1993? Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat shaking hands on the White House lawn while President Bill Clinton beamed between them like a proud father at a wedding. The world watched and thought: “Finally, śhāntiya (peace) is possible.”
That iconic 1993 handshake on the White House lawn—Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat clasping hands while Bill Clinton beamed like a proud parent—was supposed to be the beginning of Middle East peace. Instead, it became the most over-promised underdeliver in diplomatic history. Three decades later, the Oslo Accords have delivered neither the Palestinian state nor Israeli security they promised, but they’ve certainly delivered plenty: more settlements, more violence, more broken promises, and a peace process that exists mainly in the nostalgia of ageing diplomats. The handshake cost Nobel Prizes, billions in international aid, countless lives, and—most expensively—the credibility of anyone who still believes that photo-ops can substitute for political will. Oslo didn’t fail because peace was impossible; it failed because both sides treated it as a starting gun for a race to create facts on the ground rather than a roadmap to compromise. The real question isn’t whether Oslo was a mirage—it’s how long we’ll keep pretending we see water in the desert.
Thirty years later, that handshake looks less like a breakthrough and more like the world’s most expensive publicity stunt. As we traced in our previous column, the Palestine-Israel conflict was born from a century of broken promises and double-dealing. But the Oslo period represents something even more tragic: the systematic destruction of hope itself.
When Australia announced its recognition of Palestinian statehood last month, it wasn’t celebrating a peace breakthrough—it was performing the last rites over the corpse of the two-state solution.
The Oslo Māyāva (Illusion): 1993-1995
The Oslo Accords didn’t emerge from some sudden burst of goodwill. By the early 1990s, both sides were exhausted. The First Intifada (1987-1993) had drained Israeli resources and international patience, while the PLO was broken and diplomatically isolated after backing Saddam Hussein in the Gulf War. Sometimes peace talks happen not because people want peace, but because war becomes too expensive.
The secret negotiations in Norway—away from the media circus and American micromanagement—produced something remarkable: mutual recognition. Israel acknowledged the PLO as the legitimate representative of Palestinians, while Palestinians recognised Israel’s right to exist. For the first time since 1948, both sides admitted the other wasn’t going to disappear.
The plan was elegant in its simplicity: gradual Palestinian autonomy, Israeli withdrawal from populated areas, and final-status negotiations on the tough issues—Jerusalem, refugees, borders—within five years. The Palestinian Authority (PA) would govern parts of the West Bank and Gaza, building institutions for eventual statehood.
November 4, 1995: Yigal Amir, a Jewish extremist, shot Rabin dead at a peace rally in Tel Aviv. The assassin didn’t just kill Israel’s Prime Minister—he executed the peace process itself. Rabin was the one Israeli leader with enough military credibility to sell territorial concessions to a skeptical public.
But here’s what most people miss: Rabin’s assassination wasn’t just about one extremist. It reflected a broader Israeli society torn between those willing to trade land for peace and those who saw any compromise as rājadrōhīkama (treason). The same dynamic exists today.
Meanwhile, something else was quietly destroying Oslo’s foundations: settlements. Even as Rabin negotiated withdrawal, Israeli settlements in the West Bank expanded. Between 1993 and 2000, the settler population nearly doubled from 116,000 to 200,000. Imagine negotiating the sale of your house while the buyer is simultaneously building extensions in your backyard.
The Camp David Destruction: Summer 2000
By 2000, the five-year Oslo timeline had expired with none of the final-status issues resolved. President Clinton, desperate for a foreign policy legacy, dragged Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak and Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat to Camp David for what he promised would be the final negotiations.
The conventional narrative says Barak made “generous offers” that Arafat rejected because Palestinians never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity. The reality was far more complex. Barak’s offer would have given Palestinians 91% of the Imagine if someone offered you 91% of your house but kept the kitchen, bathroom, and all the connecting hallways.
The Gaza Mess: Hamas vs. Fatah
By 2006, Palestinian society was fragmenting. Hamas—the Islamic Resistance Movement—won legislative elections, defeating Fatah for the first time. The international community, led by the United States, refused to recognise a Hamas government and imposed sanctions on the PA.
The result? Civil war. In 2007, Hamas violently expelled Fatah from Gaza, creating two competing Palestinian governments: Hamas ruling Gaza and Fatah controlling the West Bank under President Mahmoud Abbas. It was like having two captains on a sinking ship, each steering in opposite directions.
Israel’s response was a comprehensive blockade of Gaza, controlling everything from construction materials to kekiri (cucumber) imports. The stated goal was preventing weapons smuggling, but the effect was collective punishment of Gaza’s two million residents.
This created a perfect storm: Hamas could claim resistance legitimacy by fighting the blockade, while Israel could justify the siege by pointing to Hamas rockets. Meanwhile, ordinary Gazans became prisoners in their own territory, with unemployment reaching 45% and basic services collapsing.
Sri Lanka’s Diplomatic Dilemma
During this period, Sri Lanka faced its own challenges. The post-9/11 “War on Terror” era put pressure on countries to choose sides. The LTTE’s terrorist designation made it awkward for Colombo to maintain its traditional support for “liberation movements” while cooperating with Western counter-terrorism efforts.
Yet Sri Lanka consistently maintained its support for Palestinian self-determination in international forums. This wasn’t just principle; it was recognition that small nations need international law to protect them from big power bullying. As Foreign Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar often noted, Sri Lanka’s own sovereignty depended on the same principles it advocated for Palestinians.
The irony wasn’t lost on observers: Sri Lanka was fighting its own separatist movement while supporting Palestinian separatism. But Colombo drew distinctions between legitimate national liberation and terrorism, lines that became increasingly blurred in the post-Oslo landscape.
The Death of the Two-State Dream
By 2010, even the most optimistic observers acknowledged that Oslo was dead. The two-state solution that once seemed inevitable now appeared impossible. Israeli settlements had tripled since Oslo, creating 600,000 settlers in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. Palestinian authority had split between two competing governments that couldn’t agree on the time of day, let alone negotiating strategy.
More fundamentally, both societies had moved away from compromise. Israeli politics shifted rightward, with parties opposing Palestinian statehood gaining strength. Palestinian politics radicalized, with Hamas gaining influence by promising resistance rather than negotiation.
The international community kept paying lip service to the two-state solution while doing nothing to preserve its viability. It was like doctors discussing treatment options for a patient who had already died.
The Revenge Cycle Continues
What emerged from Oslo’s wreckage wasn’t peace but managed conflict. Israel could control the situation without making concessions, while Palestinians could claim resistance legitimacy without accepting responsibility for governance. International donors could feel good about funding Palestinian institutions without pressuring Israel to end occupation.
The system worked for everyone except ordinary Palestinians and Israelis who continued dying for their leaders’ failures.
When Hamas launched its October 7, 2023 attack, killing 1,200 Israelis and taking 240 hostages, it wasn’t an irrational explosion of violence. It was the logical endpoint of three decades of failed diplomacy, broken promises, and managed despair.
Israel’s massive response, killing over 40,000 Gazans according to local health authorities, followed the same logic: overwhelming force to restore deterrence and destroy Hamas’s military capabilities.
Both sides were playing by rules written during Oslo’s collapse: might make right, negotiation is weakness, and the other side only understands force.
The Recognition nāṭakaya Theater
Australia’s announcement recognising Palestinian statehood isn’t really about Palestinians. It’s about signaling to domestic audiences and international partners that the old rules no longer apply. When even traditionally pro-Israeli countries start hedging their bets, it suggests that Israel’s post-October 7 response has crossed red lines.
But recognition without a viable path to actual statehood is just nāṭakaya (theater). The fundamental problems that killed Oslo remain incompatible claims to the same land, leaders who benefit more from conflict than compromise, and international powers that prefer managing crisis to resolving it.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe. The views and opinions expressed in this article are personal.)
Features
Addressing human rights needs multi-pronged approach
by Jehan Perera
The ongoing 63rd session of the United Nations Human Rights Council, which runs from September 7 to October 7, 2026, in Geneva is important to Sri Lanka. Its outcome will send a signal to other international actors, including the European Union, as to whether Sri Lanka’s reform policy is on track. The written update on Sri Lanka, prepared by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights under High Commissioner Volker Türk and presented by Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif, has taken a more holistic approach to the government’s performance over the past year. It acknowledged the progress Sri Lanka has made under the NPP government in relation to accountability for financial fraud and other economic crimes. At the same time, the High Commissioner’s update made clear that progress in relation to economic crime cannot be equated with progress in relation to accountability for grave human rights violations committed during the armed conflict and in other periods of political violence.
The government may have felt sufficiently confident that its response to the High Commissioner’s update could be handled by its representative in Geneva and did not require the attendance of Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath. Sri Lanka’s representative Sumith Dassanayake called for a fundamental review of country-specific mandates within the UN Human Rights Council. Sri Lanka has been facing repeated scrutiny in the form of successive UNHRC resolutions from 2012 onwards. Ambassador Dassanayake argued that such mandates should not continue indefinitely and must be regularly assessed against measurable objectives and tangible outcomes. This may reflect confidence that its record of reform is beginning to receive recognition internationally. The reports and statements at the Human Rights Council acknowledged progress in the government’s efforts to address corruption and economic crime.
The government’s anti-corruption drive has included investigations into allegations involving individuals who held the highest political offices in the country. The arrest of former President Ranil Wickremesinghe in connection with alleged misuse of public funds, and the investigation into the controversial SriLankan Airlines Airbus transaction involving former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, are examples of the reach of these investigations. The arrest of SLPP National Organiser and Member of Parliament Namal Rajapaksa in connection with allegations relating to the Airbus purchase scandal has also demonstrated that the government is willing to pursue cases involving politically powerful figures.
Wide Range
The ongoing investigations appear to encompass a wide range of parliamentarians and government members, both past and present. They suggest that accountability for corruption is not being confined to lower-level officials or to individuals who lack political influence. This is precisely the kind of accountability that the public has long demanded and that previous governments have too often failed to deliver. The government is also reaching into the upper levels of the military hierarchies of the past. The case in which 11 young men, most of them Tamil, disappeared after being abducted in Colombo between 2008 and 2009 involved allegations that some families were asked to pay ransoms. The investigation into this case has reached senior military figures. The willingness to pursue such cases is important because it challenges the assumption that those who exercised power during the war are beyond the reach of the law. Such cases would provide a practical test of whether the government’s commitment to accountability for economic crimes is part of a broader commitment to the rule of law.
Success in prosecuting corruption cannot substitute for justice for those who were unlawfully killed, disappeared, tortured or otherwise victimised. The UN report noted that there had been no recognition or accountability for crimes under international law, gross human rights violations and serious violations of international humanitarian law committed by all parties during the war. The government has yet to establish a credible and effective process to address the many cases of enforced disappearance, extrajudicial killing, torture and other serious violations. The government needs to take the international commitments it has inherited on human rights issues seriously. It needs to adopt a multi-pronged approach and go beyond focusing primarily on financial and corruption-related accountability.
Need Action
As a member of the international community, Sri Lanka has a responsibility to abide by the commitments it has made. It cannot selectively uphold international obligations postponing those that are politically difficult. Also, as a small country, Sri Lanka has a self-interest in ensuring the survival of international law, which is all that it has to protect it from the depredations of the bigger international actors. The erosion of international law by powerful states makes it all the more important that smaller states uphold the principles on which the international system is based. Sri Lanka cannot credibly appeal to international law when it is threatened from outside while disregarding its own obligations within. Sri Lanka also needs to win the confidence of its own population that it is committed to justice and equality for all. Public opinion polls and community-level research have disclosed that ethnic and religious minorities are appreciative of the sense of greater security they enjoy under the present government from ethnic or religious extremists.
But a sense of security is not the same as the fulfilment of rights. As far as the Tamil people are concerned, the government has yet to deliver on several of its specific promises. These include the long-standing problems of missing persons, the release of political prisoners who have been members of Tamil militant organisations, and the return of land taken over for military purposes during the war. The issue of Buddhist statues and archaeological sites found on their properties which are then taken from their control continue to trouble them especially as they see no signs of resolution of those disputes. The issue of pastureland in the east of the country in Mylathamadu is particularly concerning to them as they see orders by successive presidents, both President Ranil Wickremesinghe and President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, being disregarded on the ground. The Mylathamadu pastureland dispute is where traditional Tamil dairy farmers have engaged in multi-year protests against the ongoing encroachment of their ancestral grazing lands by Sinhalese crop cultivators relocated under government development schemes.
The government’s failure to hold Provincial Council elections is particularly troubling. The provincial council system is the only one that can provide the Tamil people and other ethnic minorities the opportunity to wield political power and exercise a measure of self-determination in the areas in which they are the numerical majority. The continued postponement of Provincial Council elections therefore has consequences that go beyond an ordinary electoral delay. It deprives communities of an important constitutional avenue for democratic participation and power-sharing. The ethnic and religious minorities appreciate what the government is doing in the larger national interest, but they must not be made to feel that their special concerns are being ignored. The government cannot resolve Sri Lanka’s entire legacy of rights violations overnight. But it does need to demonstrate that it is willing to move forward on multiple fronts, not only on a few.
Features
The emptying university: why are academics leaving?
by Hasini Lecamwasam
Brain drain in Sri Lanka is at an all-time high. The latest Human Flight and Brain Drain Index for 2024 shows that we are 16th of 175 countries on this count, and first in South Asia. That this is a crisis goes without saying. Brain drain affects all sectors, and is a huge strain on the resources of a developing country. Particularly in Sri Lanka, where considerable public investment is made in the moulding of professionals through the system of free education, this amounts to transferring the resources of poorer countries to richer ones with top migration destinations. It is, therefore, important to consider the push and pull factors behind skilled outmigration, specifically from the public university system of Sri Lanka, a key focus of the Kuppi column.
From frustration to exit
Several bitter realities in our crumbling public university system act as push factors in the migration decisions of academics. Many essays on this column have, over several years, attempted to highlight numerous aspects of this erosion. Perhaps, primary among them is the lack of adequate funding, which has debilitating ramifications for the system: very little investment is made in the up-keep of infrastructure (and even less in its expansion), resulting in serious constraints in accommodating growing batches of students and the wellbeing of the staff (particularly in regional universities); research funding is negligible, severely curtailing academics’ ability to effectively discharge their primary duty of teaching which should ideally be informed by their research (and the research of others, access to which is also, unfortunately, mediated by funding); a funding crunch also means a slash in (or greater constraints on) recruitments, increasing the workloads of academics, currently in service, and eating into the quality of their teaching and research.
What recruitments are done frustrate those with any faith in merit. As many of our interventions in this column have shown, recruitment processes are characterised by archaic selection criteria that place very little weight on a candidate’s postgraduate growth and the advantages of interdisciplinary training. Added to this is the general preference for ‘culturally compliant’ candidates who would not rock the boat too much. The combined effect is that those with the capacity and spirit to try out innovations in education are discouraged from joining or staying on in the public university system. Some, or many, of them may instead seek appointments abroad.
A thread that binds all of these problems together is pervasive hierarchy which, again, many interventions on this column have sought to highlight. It is the interest in preserving hierarchy that leads to the preference for alumni in recruitment processes. Hierarchy within universities can be particularly frustrating for younger faculty and women, who typically have to bear the brunt of the workload of their senior, often male, colleagues. In a context of funding, and, therefore, recruitment, restrictions, this translates into a disproportionate burden being placed on junior (usually female) faculty, seriously hindering their prospects of growing into successful academics due to the time constraints within which they have to operate. Junior academics, therefore, are more likely to look to educational institutions abroad for what they hope would be a different work culture that respects them more.
Ideological ruses
On top of these structural frustrations are also the workings of neoliberal ideology. For one, the nature of relations between the global metropole and peripheral countries like Sri Lanka largely dictates what is desirable and what is not. The apparent lifestyles of Western countries – from food to clothing, housing, appliances, and so on – have continued to lure people from the periphery with the promise of a ‘better’ life, alongside better career advancement opportunities. This, of course, masks much of the struggle that goes on behind the scenes to survive in Western societies. For instance, in most cases highly attractive public infrastructure such as roads, public transport, clean air, quality control of food, and so on belie the astronomical privatised costs of healthcare and education. Health insurance is usually mandatory and steep in most high-income settings, while even subsidised education (for which eligibility criteria are strict) creates a serious dent in household earnings. Of course, the happy images of glossy trams and gleeful international travellers don’t convey this.
A second ideological ruse is the myth of greater opportunities and recognition abroad. While there is no denying that local skilled sectors – be it higher education, health, civil service, or private white-collar positions – are replete with issues that inhibit merit-based professional advancement, the notion that things are fundamentally different in Western countries stems from an uninformed optimism. As is now increasingly known and discussed, Western labour markets are notoriously racialised, and equivalent skills are rarely treated as such. Instead, it is usually demanded that skilled migrants clear certain formal examinations in their host countries. In fields like medicine, this is followed by an interview that may also be racially prejudiced. Once these initial steps are cleared, remuneration reverts to square one irrespective of experience accumulated abroad, not to mention the many subtle aggressions, rejections, and trials one has to go through in the negotiation of everyday life. In the many cases where professional qualifications are used as leverage for a move abroad, sights are set on a better future for one’s children, which again is informed by the misplaced faith in greater opportunities and a lack of awareness of the factors outlined above. Needless to say, in the global swing to the Right, things have become even more challenging. In such a context, considering the few rare cases where skilled migrants live extremely comfortable lives as the norm becomes a dangerous misconception.
The two ideological pull factors mentioned above are complemented by a push factor, which has to do with a highly classed understanding of what a white-collar professional is due in their society. Many of these aspirations are clearly articulated in academic trade union action demanding separate quotas for school entry, increased fuel allowances, winning back the presently stalled vehicle permit scheme, salary hikes, and so on. While working people have every right to agitate for better material conditions, insofar as it remains unconnected to a broader movement for improving the conditions of the lot of the working class, it remains self-serving and very much within the class logic of capitalist society. Since these demands are articulated as a means of maintaining distinction, it is clear that they are not envisaged as part of a class movement. The frustration of not having these needs for distinction satisfied may push some to seek greener pastures abroad, at least financially, (perhaps as a means of social mobility based on it), only to be disappointed on most occasions.
What is to be done?
Addressing the systemic push factors listed above requires, first and foremost, greater allocations for free public higher education. This would immediately translate into more recruitments and less work per academic, and better research and teaching in the long haul. An increase in funding would also ideally lead to greater infrastructural investments, especially including improving the living conditions of those who work in regional universities amid untold hardships. Next, fairer, more creative, and, therefore, more effective recruitment policies are badly needed to attract talented individuals to university positions. Rather than carving out a ‘special category’ for academics to achieve this purpose, which is informed by a classed logic, this needs to be done through fundamental reforms in recruitment processes. Third, a persistent attack on the entrenched hierarchy within universities through internal reform is much called for. Reforming recruitment practices will go a long way towards addressing this. Measures should also be taken to introduce more stringent policies against SGBV (not to mention ragging, even though it is not directly connected to brain drain). Such measures would create a safer, fairer, and more attractive workplace, which would give more reasons for people to stay.
On top of greater allocations, we also need a transformation of our aspirations themselves if this situation is to change. That necessitates a kind of education capable of questioning the ‘paradise’ conception of Western societies, and lays bare their colonial material and ideological dimensions, in both their historical and contemporary manifestations. These colonial understandings of the ‘good life’, moreover, have devastating ecological implications for the planet, not to mention social justice. An education with the ability to transform this mindset would hopefully prove to be more than a mere path to social mobility, rather being a tool of social emancipation that renders mobility moot.
(Hasini Lecamwasam is with the Department of Political Science, University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Friends favourite Suzi Croner returns for Oktoberfest 2026
Charming audiences in Switzerland as Suzi Flückiger, Sri Lanka’s own Suzi Croner is coming home… for a very special occasion.
The bubbly former frontline vocalist of 90s band Friends will take the stage at a popular venue in Colombo for Oktoberfest 2026.
Known in Europe for her country and classic hits, Suzi has remained a much-loved name back home. This will be a rare chance for local fans to see her live and celebrate the voice behind so many Friends memories.
Oktoberfest 2026 in Colombo promises an evening of live music, traditional Bavarian food and beer, colourful dirndls and lederhosen, folk dancing, and plenty of community cheer.

Suzi Croner (Flückiger)
Against this lively backdrop, Suzi will take the stage for a special solo set, featuring her own pre-recorded music. She performed at the event last year too, as a solo artiste, but a German band providing the music.
This year, however she says, it’s a different scene.
“The novel attraction will be the dancers from Germany — all girls, clad in German outfits,” Suzi said. She added that the event will also highlight the activities generally connected with Oktoberfest, which should generate a lot of fun and excitement for those who join her in Colombo next month.
Suzi has become a much-in-demand artiste in Europe, and has even performed Down Under, in Melbourne.
In Switzerland, where she has been based for the past 42 years, she continues to charm audiences with country and classic hits, performing at private events and community nights across Europe.
“My weekends are generally loaded with my work as a singer,” she said. “And I also play tennis three times a week, because I need to keep fit to entertain my audience in an active way.”
Her repertoire is made up mainly of Swiss, German and English songs.
And true to form, Suzi loves springing surprises.
“So watch out when you join me at Oktoberfest 2026, in Colombo!” she said.
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