Features
Israel’s Gaza Campaign Is the Gravest Moral Crisis of Our Time
The crisis in Gaza shows those nations that should be defending international law and humanitarian values to be openly betraying their commitments.
by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi
I write this essay as a senior American Buddhist monk of Jewish ethnicity who has been deeply distressed by Israel’s military assault on the population of Gaza. I see this campaign as perhaps the gravest moral crisis of our time. The blistering bombardments, the ever-mounting death toll, the deadly blockade of vital essentials, the annihilation of innocent human lives—all these events sear the moral consciousness like a red-hot iron and demand a loud shout from the depths of the soul: “For God’s sake, stop it!” Indeed, in its own discreet tones, the International Court of Justice has issued such a shout, yet it seems to have fallen on deaf ears.
Given the many instances of sheer inhumanity unfolding over just two decades—in Iraq, Syria, Tigray, Myanmar, and Ukraine—why should I highlight Gaza as the major moral calamity of our time? I will lay down five reasons why this is the case.
The first concerns the sheer intensity of the assault. Arif Husain, the chief economist at the United Nation’s World Food Program, bears testimony to this with his remark: “I’ve been doing this for the past two decades, and I’ve been to all kinds of conflicts and all kinds of crises. And, for me, this is unprecedented because of, one, the magnitude, the scale, the entire population of a particular place; second, the severity; and third, the speed at which this is happening, at which this has unfolded.”
Unlike the Nazi Holocaust and other war crimes—including Russia’s blood-curdling operations in Ukraine—the genocide in Gaza unfolds live on our television and computer screens, right before our eyes.
The figures representing deaths, injuries, and destruction in Gaza bear out Husain’s words. We are told that 70% of the victims are women and children; that doctors, medical staff, journalists, and university professors are being targeted; that all of Gaza has become a death camp where no one is safe anywhere. We learn of whole families being liquidated at the drop of a bomb, three generations wiped out in an instant; of kids losing their parents and all their siblings, left with no surviving family members in the world; of hospitals being shuttered and their patients forced to walk miles to designated safety zones, only to be hit by sniper fire en route or struck by rockets when they arrive.
On top of the deaths, injuries, and demolitions directly caused by the bombardments, Israel’s near-total blockade of vital essentials—food, water, fuel, and medicines—drives the spike of suffering even more deeply into the hearts of Gaza’s population, subjecting displaced people to extremes of hunger, thirst, and infectious disease. Now that the major Western donors are suspending their funding of UNRWA, the U.N. relief agency for Palestinian refugees, the very lifeline for the people of Gaza is being cut. Like a ravenous hawk, famine hovers just above the strip, ready to strike.
The second factor that underscores the moral gravity of the crisis in Gaza is its visibility, its living immediacy. Unlike the Nazi Holocaust and other war crimes—including Russia’s blood-curdling operations in Ukraine—the genocide in Gaza unfolds live on our television and computer screens, right before our eyes. The images jump out from the screen and beg us to act: children with amputated limbs, their bodies torn and broken; babies abandoned in powerless incubators; apartment buildings and universities collapsing like decks of cards; historic churches and mosques destroyed beyond repair; refugees crammed into infested camps, crying out for water and food; corpses thrown into mass graves; captives blindfolded and stripped naked, paraded like cattle through desolate streets.
Such images make all our normal activities—chatting with friends, going out for a meal, joining a family gathering, going to a concert—seem insipid, hollow, and pointless. Once we bear witness to these horrific crimes, we feel a heavy moral responsibility has fallen on our shoulders, a burden we can’t shake off by claiming these atrocities don’t concern us. The burden is painful, but also exhilarating in reminding us of our capacity for empathy.
A third factor that heightens the moral gravity of the Gaza crisis derives from the fact that it is the state of Israel, the self-declared national home of the Jewish people, that is inflicting all this suffering, anguish, and death on Gaza. Yes, we do hold Israel to a higher moral bar than we do most other nations, but not from anti-Jewish bias. We do so because the Jews are the ethnic group that experienced the horror of the Holocaust and would should therefore be the most vigilant defenders of the inviolable right of people to be free from ethnic persecution.
The vow “Never again,” as understood by Jews of conscience, means never again for anyone. Yet, instead of showing empathy, Israel is now using the past trauma of the Holocaust—and the guilt of the countries that inflicted that trauma—as a shield to silence criticism and maintain its impunity. It’s as if they are saying to the world, “You can’t touch us because you bear the guilt for our past suffering.”
Since we, as Americans, are citizens of the nation foremost in shielding Israel from accountability, this places on us the moral burden of opposing our country’s policies.
The fourth way in which the crisis in Gaza bears moral weight relates specifically to us here in the United States. Our country is complicit in Israel’s crimes. With our own tax dollars, we fund Israel’s military, supplying it with the most advanced weaponry available. We give Israel diplomatic cover at the U.N. through our use of the veto. And we give Israel moral cover by echoing the messages of its propaganda machine at press conferences and international gatherings, while tarring those who criticize its actions.
When all the moral dimensions of the situation in Gaza are viewed together—the sheer volume of indiscriminate killing; the fact that the devastation is starkly visible to us through the media; the fact that the operation is being carried out by the state representing the Jewish people, the historic victims of persecution and genocide; and the complicity of the United States—they point to the fifth reason this is a deeply moral crisis. Taken conjointly, all these factors shatter the moral framework offered to us as the key for understanding our world.
For decades, the major Western powers have presented themselves as the bulwarks of the rules-based international order, the defenders of human rights and decent human morality. Yet now, under the shallowest of pretexts, they throw their weight behind Israel, even when the World Court designates its operations a “plausible genocide.” This unwavering loyalty to a nation that flouts international law overturns the moral lens through which we’ve been taught to view the global order. Now the masks come off, exposing the hypocrisy of the major Western powers hidden behind their polished exteriors.
The crisis in Gaza shows those nations that should be defending international law and humanitarian values to be openly betraying their commitments. Their moral bankruptcy couldn’t be more glaring. They advise Israel to carry out its operations in accordance with international law, but continue to provide it with weapons even when it breaks those laws. They say they favor peace, but at the U.N. Security Council they veto or abstain from resolutions calling for a humanitarian cease-fire. They say they are opposed to genocide, but dispute South Africa’s case at the World Court. They say that Israel should treat prisoners humanely, but turn a blind eye when it tortures, humiliates, and even executes them.
Since we, as Americans, are citizens of the nation foremost in shielding Israel from accountability, this places on us the moral burden of opposing our country’s policies. Given this responsibility, how can we keep silent? There is simply no excuse for standing speechless on the sidelines. We can’t let silence reign as the final word. We can’t let silence replace the word. Since the U.S. government represents us, as Americans we must boldly speak up and oppose its support for Israel’s operations.
The plain fact is that the key to a solution lies in the hands of the U.S. Only if the U.S. applies tough economic and political pressure on Israel can the conflict be justly resolved. And crucially, a just resolution would also serve Israel’s long-term interest, finally permitting it to live at peace with a free Palestinian state, for the mutual benefit of both nations.
Every voice counts, and we can do our share in a variety of ways: by joining marches, writing to the White House and our representatives in Congress, posting relevant news articles and commentary on our social media platforms, writing articles, and talking with friends. It’s not enough to post bromides on social media about love and peace or to pin doves and hearts to our profiles. To fulfill our duty as moral beings, we need to actively express our solidarity with the besieged Palestinians who can’t speak for themselves. And that means, for a starter, calling for a complete cease-fire. Not just for “peace,” but for a real, complete, monitored cease-fire.
But a cease-fire is only the first step. Beyond stopping the present round of destruction, we should also demand a genuine, sincere, concerted attempt to finally fulfill the aspirations of the Palestinian people for a fully sovereign state of their own, which will also be the precious key to Israel’s security. The road to a solution of this long-standing problem will be rocky and hard, but we need to join voices and hands with the many others calling for the first steps to be taken—and to be taken now.
(Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi is a Buddhist scholar and translator of Buddhist texts. He is also the founder and chair of Buddhist Global Relief, a charity dedicated to helping communities around the world afflicted by chronic hunger and malnutrition.)
Features
Coercive laws recipe for future misrule
by Jehan Perera
The NPP government is going after powerful figures from the past and present who have engaged in corruption, fraud and criminal activity in a way that no previous government in Sri Lanka has done. Former ministers, politicians and senior state officials are among those facing investigations and legal proceedings. The government has placed before Parliament a document listing 50 cases involving corruption, fraud and other crimes. These include not only financial offences but also cases relating to the Easter Sunday attacks, the killings of Lasantha Wickrematunge and Wasim Thajudeen, the disappearance of Prageeth Ekneligoda and attacks on journalists Keith Noyahr and Upali Tennakoon.
The significance of this effort is that it can demonstrate that nobody is above the law, regardless of political connections or social standing, which will help restore public confidence in institutions that have long been distrusted. It could also recover public resources, improve the investment climate and strengthen the foundations for a more prosperous and just Sri Lanka. When criticised for focusing on the past and not the present, the government position is that these investigations were initiated under earlier governments, particularly between 2015 and 2019, and that it is now allowing investigators to proceed to deal with the backlog without political interference.
But there is an aspect of the government’s approach that is less justifiable. While pursuing past wrongdoing by powerful individuals, it is also advancing a triumvirate of draft laws that could give the state sweeping powers over citizens, organisations and dissent in the present and future. The draft Prevention of Terrorism legislation, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill raise serious questions about the over-centralisation of power. Each of these laws strengthens the powers of the state while weakening the rights and safeguards that protect people from their misuse and thus questions the basic rights of people in democracy where ‘the power of the people is vested in the government’. This is a recipe for future misrule rather than the rule of law. As the well-known saying goes, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Proposed Laws
The real test of system change, for which the government obtained an overwhelming mandate, requires not only a government willing to hold others accountable, but one prepared to subject itself to the same principles of legality, transparency and restraint. The three proposed laws that are particularly important in this regard are the Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill, the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill and the NGO Registration and Supervision Bill. Each of these draft laws has been presented as serving a legitimate purpose. Preventing terrorism, combating organised crime and ensuring that NGOs do not facilitate money laundering or terrorist financing are proper responsibilities of the state. Sri Lanka has international obligations in these areas, and no responsible government can disregard them. However, the existence of a legitimate objective does not justify every means adopted to achieve it.
The proposed Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill illustrates the problem. Although its definition of terrorism draws on a model developed by a former United Nations Special Rapporteur, the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka has warned that the definition of terrorism extends beyond the model and could bring legitimate political protest, trade union action and civil disobedience within the scope of counter-terrorism legislation. Its concerns also include prolonged detention, inadequate judicial oversight and restrictions on access to legal counsel. These are objections that go to the heart of the relationship between the citizen and the state. The government cannot credibly promise to protect democratic freedoms while creating powers that could be used to restrict them. It is necessary for the government to reassess the draft through transparent consultation and revise provisions that could criminalise legitimate dissent.
The Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill raises similar concerns. It is presented as giving effect to the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organised Crime, which Sri Lanka ratified in 2006. The Centre for Policy Alternatives (CPA) has argued that the convention does not require many of the bill’s provisions. The proposed law extends to a broad range of offences, permits detention orders lasting up to a year, makes confessions to police admissible for purposes of legal evidence, and introduces extensive surveillance powers. A law intended to dismantle criminal networks should not create a parallel system of exceptional powers that could be applied far beyond organised crime. Nor should safeguards developed through years of experience with abuses under the Prevention of Terrorism Act be weakened through legislation bearing a different name. The government should review whether or not existing laws could be used effectively to control these crimes or whether each exceptional power is necessary.
Civil Society
The proposed NGO Registration and Supervision Bill presents another test of the government’s intentions. The government may reasonably seek transparency in the finances of organisations receiving public or foreign funds, including measures to prevent money laundering and terrorist financing. It seeks to justify its overreach on the grounds of meeting the internationally mandated requirements of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) for the Asia-Pacific region. But these objectives do not justify placing civil society and NGOs under excessive administrative control when even the FATF ranks them as low to medium risks. The draft bill would require registration and renewal, impose extensive obligations on organisations and empower authorities to suspend or deregister them on broadly framed grounds. It is important to redraft provisions that confer excessive discretion over registration, renewal, suspension and deregistration of NGOs.
Among the concerns raised by United Nations human rights special rapporteurs with regard to the draft NGO law are provisions requiring organisations to align with government policies and restrictions that could affect advocacy, dissent and freedom of association. The implications extend well beyond organisations that engage directly with the government. Community groups, human rights organisations, independent researchers and organisations working on reconciliation or accountability could find their activities constrained by uncertainty over how these provisions might be interpreted. Organisations that criticise government policies are not thereby working against the country. Their freedom to do so is part of what distinguishes a democracy from a system in which the government determines which opinions and activities are acceptable.
The government has generated considerable public goodwill through its pursuit of corruption and criminality. It should not assume that this goodwill gives it an unlimited mandate to strengthen the coercive powers of the state. The NPP knows from its own history that governments can treat dissent as a threat and use the machinery of the state against their opponents. There is still time to correct the drafts through transparent public consultation, narrow definitions of offences, meaningful judicial control over detention and surveillance, and effective remedies against arbitrary decisions. A government that pursues corruption while weakening safeguards against state abuse risks undermining its own achievements. Besides bringing to light the abuse of power by previous governments, the NPP government needs to build a system in which no future government can abuse power in the belief they can get away with it.
Features
Quality assurance without quality enhancement: The irony of university QA
By Ramya Kumar
According to the Quality Assurance Council (QAC) of the University Grants Commission (UGC), quality assurance (QA) refers to “the means (i.e. the policies, attitudes, actions, procedures, etc.), by which an institution can guarantee with confidence and certainty, that the standards and quality of its educational provision are being maintained and enhanced”.
An expansive structure has been in place since 2005 to govern and implement QA processes within the state university system. The QAC is the focal point at the UGC that implements external reviews of state universities and institutes. Each university has its own Centre for Quality Assurance (CQA) tasked with performing QA in line with QAC directives. Faculties, in turn, have Internal Quality Assurance Cells (IQAC) performing their own QA; they are answerable to the CQA.
The big question is whether this all-encompassing top-down QA system, that in many ways undermines the internal dynamics of university governance, actually supports universities to enhance the quality of education. This article highlights some concerns.
Top-down check-box activities
The QAC conducts external reviews of universities and degree programmes. A review team appointed by the UGC (who may or may not have experience in the institution/programme in question) examines the self-evaluation report submitted by the said institution/programme. The team then conducts a site visit to verify the claims made in the university’s self-evaluation report, clarify issues identified during the desk review, and examine how QA procedures operate in practice. The team holds meetings with the university administration, members of the Council and Senate, Deans, Heads of Departments, academic and non-academic staff, students, and others. Following the visit, a draft report is submitted to the relevant institution/programme for comment before final publication. The reviewed institution/programme then prepares and publishes an action plan addressing the recommendations, with subsequent monitoring of progress.
There are some worthy QA initiatives under implementation, such as improving facilities for students with disabilities and strengthening mechanisms to address sexual- and gender-based violence. However, for the most part, QA activities have little to do with improving the quality of education. They are mostly preoccupied with monitoring faculty and department websites, digital transformation, student feedback, subject evaluation, course evaluation, peer evaluation, and, more recently, staff appraisal. These activities, which consume an inordinate amount of time—so precious at understaffed universities—have become check-box activities completed to generate evidence for the next review. Below is an excerpt of a conversation between two academics (1 and 2) that conveys how QA plays out at universities (reproduced with permission).
1: … .it’s like social media you know, like posting things on Facebook or twitter or Instagram. When people do a lot of social media, everything they do, they do thinking, “okay I’m going to post it in this way… this I have to put on my Instagram.” QA is a little like that… everything is considered in light of, “ah we can use this for the review, as evidence… for example very recently we were encouraged to have all the things that we do in our department in the faculty newsletter so then they can put in the review. Every little thing has to be noted down….
2: And with pictures and all…
1: At the very least it has to be written so that you have written evidence .. you can’t be doing something for the sake of doing something or because it is good for the department … and sometimes people tell me “oh yea that’s a good idea we can fit that under this x, y section of the review..”
2: Yea, and nobody really thinks about the actual outcome… whether it’s actually helping anyone..
1: I also find that a lot of the words that we used in different ways have now been co-opted to the QA discourse ..including quality.. I can’t actually say what I want as an “outcome”, for example, that the outcome of this workshop is that my students “think about” … then I am told “ah but no that’s not one of the Bloom’s taxonomy words, “think about”.…
2: And the worst part is these medical and agriculture people, these types of people go around spreading it like some kind of gospel!
1: Yea, this cookie cutter way of doing things, they think is the height of innovativeness or creativity, when actually it is so mundane … for me the most awful thing about it is like some fungus of mundanity has taken over through QA reviews.
2: yea, when you say QA, my mind closes off immediately and I stop listening…
Auditing everything but power
QA leaves out crucial aspects of university governance. For instance, there is no review or assessment of the “quality” of university administrations under Criterion 1 or the integrity of procedures governing the promotion of academic staff under Criterion 6 of the institutional reviews.
The majority in the Council—the university’s executive and governing body, which is responsible for selecting the Vice-Chancellor (VC)—are appointed in ad hoc fashion. Apart from the Ex-Officio members in the Council (VC, Deans, etc.), and the two members elected by the Senate, the remainder are appointed by the UGC with no formal consultation or vetting procedure. The VC appointment process described in UGC Circular No. 03/2023 exemplifies how an ostensibly technical process can become entangled in political sycophancy. The Registrar invites applications for the position of VC through advertisement. Applicants must submit a curriculum vitae, a statement of vision for the university and supporting documents. The University Council appoints a three-member Search Committee of senior academics to encourage “eminent persons” to apply, while the UGC appoints a former VC from another university to “observe” the selection process.
A Special Meeting of the University Council is convened. Candidates are interviewed and must make a presentation to the Council Members, followed by questions. Each Council member “gives marks” for seven prescribed criteria: strategic focus (20%), effective leadership (20%), holistic thinking/conceptual skills (10%), academic and research excellence (15%), personal integrity (10%), professional communication (10%) and managerial competence (15%). Marks are averaged, and the Council recommends three candidates to the UGC in rank order. The UGC-appointed observer separately submits a confidential report on the selection process.
This procedure is expected to guarantee quality, but does it? Applications are submitted to the Council Members, who have been appointed on questionable bases, and who are expected to review the applications and give scores, based on objective assessments. But, in reality, most Council Members are manipulated by VC candidates, who often have personal ties with them. The UGC-appointed observer usually has no genuine interest in the outcome. And there is no way for anyone to actually question the Council’s decision once it is made. Although the highest-ranked candidate may ultimately be appointed, the selection remains a political decision made by the President, who retains the discretion to appoint any one of the three.
External reviews also do not look into the promotions of academic staff, except to scrutinise whether there are policies and procedures in place to govern promotion. Academic staff may apply for promotion to Professor once they satisfy the prescribed eligibility requirements, which typically include the period of service, academic qualifications, research and publication achievements, teaching experience, and contributions to the university and wider community. Applications are evaluated against specified criteria, with research output and academic contributions assessed through documentary evidence and expert evaluation. Under the UGC’s scheme for Professors, two experts from outside the applicant’s institution assess specified aspects of research and knowledge dissemination. Again, beneath this technical process, which is externally evaluated, lies a problematic points-based scheme that can be manipulated and abused with impunity.
Rethinking university QA
Like the VC election process and the schemes of promotion for academic staff, QA reviews are open to manipulation. Before a review, there is a chaotic rush to complete evidence gathering and reporting. Academics leave all other work aside, including at times their teaching, to focus on completing documentation and preparing reports. The standardised criteria in the review manuals and scoring sheets often do not reflect differences in disciplines and institutional contexts. But this does not really matter because any serious problems experienced by institutions or programmes are hastily brushed under the carpet to conceal any evidence that could taint the review. The goal is to obtain an A or at least a B grade at whatever cost.
QA may result in positive change if it moves beyond top-down check-box activities towards internally designed and owned processes encompassing all aspects of university governance, led by departments and faculties, and supported by adequate resources. The current QA system needs to be dismantled and replaced by procedures that are accountable, not to the UGC, but to our students and the communities we serve.
(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna)
. Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Down Memory Lane — the Grand 20th Edition!
Yes, Down Memory Lane, the beloved Sing-Along concert series that first struck a chord, way back in 1997, returns for its landmark 20th edition this Saturday, 17th October, at the beautiful Bolgoda Grand Resort, Moratuwa town centre.
Having celebrated its glorious 25th anniversary with the show in 2023, this milestone 20th concert promises to be even more special.
The organisers, the ever-popular Moratuwa Arts Forum, are pulling out all the stops to present yet another unforgettable evening, brimming with camaraderie, fellowship, and pure nostalgia.
Get ready for two-and-a-half hours of non-stop singing as veteran vocalists, from the Moratuwa Arts Forum, will take the stage to lead and inspire the happy audience to sing, sing and sing to their hearts’ content.
The repertoire? Absolutely magical, according to the organisers.

Veteran Arun Dias Bandaranaike: Will handle the evening’s proceedings / Priya Peiris: Event Conceptor
Around 40 golden oldies — from timeless English vintage evergreens and hits from the 50s to the 90s, to toe-tapping calypsos, soulful American plantation melodies, rousing cowboy and Dixieland favourites, aa well as cherished Sinhala standards. All to be sung with much gusto!
This year’s dedicated organising committee comprises Brian Coorey (Chairman), Priya Peiris (Event Conceptor), Hiran Fernando, Suranga Fernando, Viranjan Perera, Hemka Fernando and Neelesh Silva. Guidance and support comes from Moratuwa Arts Forum President Sarana Guneratne and Secretary Chandani Silva.
Adding his signature charm to the evening, as Master of Ceremonies, will be the veteran Arun Dias Bandaranaike.
Don’t miss this landmark celebration of music and memories!
For further details, contact Hiran Fernando on 0772636446 or WhatsApp 0783636446.
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