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More on Japan, wonder woman Yukiko and an encounter in Tokyo’s red light area

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

While at ESCAP in Bangkok, Yukiko invited me to travel with her to the Maldives in 1988 and to Laos in 1989 to discuss CBR at National Workshops on disability sponsored in those countries by ESCAP. For many disabled people in those countries, it was their first opportunity to participate in an event such as this. And for as many, to meet a disabled person from another culture.

I will share one experience in Vientiane which illustrates Yukiko’s perfect fit in the role she carries out. We had finished dinner at a hotel not far from where we resided. There was not much traffic at that time of night, and we walked on the road itself. Yukiko was quite tiny in build. Because of impairment, Yukiko used a pair of crutches and walked very slowly. When I saw a large truck approaching us I said to her, “Yukiko, see that truck? Let’s move aside.” Her determined reply was, “Why should we? They can see us.” To me, that says it all.

Back home in Japan at the end of her three years, Yukiko set up the Asia Disability Institute or ADI to enable formal support for disability both within her own country and in others. Once, when I was in Tokyo, Yukiko and Shoji invited me to stay in their home. Yukiko took the opportunity to invite members of ADI for a meeting that evening. In the morning she told me she had to go to the supermarket to buy some stuff to prepare food for her guests. She asked me whether I would like to join her.

Yukiko had by this time discarded her cumbersome crutches, and with that, discarded the confinement that conventional rehabilitation had imposed on her. She exerted her right to choose. And she had chosen to use an electric wheelchair.

And what an experience it was for me going shopping with Yukiko. Out though the door and on the street, she just whizzed along at such a pace that I had to run alongside to keep up. Eventually I had to give up and just follow her. Inside the supermarket was another experience. She whizzed again in and out and along the aisles picking out what she wanted off the shelves and popping them into the bag hanging on her chair. We were soon done. I had been but an observer, but I was exhausted just watching her.

Yukiko is the embodiment of independence. Of inclusion. Of freedom.

The Asia Disability Institute provides a forum in which disabled people and professionals come together to discuss disability issues and to discuss possible solutions. It provides excellent opportunities where an understanding on these matters can be reached through debate and discussion. Sometimes the focus was on Community Based Rehabilitation (CBR). A hot topic for discussion at the time was disability-inclusion and participation. On one occasion when I went to Japan, Yukiko arranged for me to share my experience at a large symposium organised by the University of Tokyo. This was in 2001.

The topic I was to share was, “The Inclusion of Persons with Disabilities in the Community through Community-Based Rehabilitation, CBR”.

What’s in a name?

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell just as sweet.

William Shakespeare in ‘Romeo and Juliet’

Recently, I read about a large international forum discussing whether the words CBR should be replaced by Community-Based Inclusive Development. Some international organisations have Disability-Inclusive Development policies. Two comments: one is that we have learned globally through bitter experience that development must start with people, with the communities in which they live, start with a community-base. Imposing development from above brings no success. So prefixing the words “community-based” for development may be unnecessary.

Two, CBR is the strategy that has shown the way to disability inclusion in all development systems at all levels. What is important now is to ensure disability is included in development And call it what you will, until we find something better the strategy for disability inclusion will continue to be CBR.

What is a community?

By this time I had acquired a deep understanding of the “Community” in CBR. I am no sociologist and here I offer what I have learned on my journey. I believe that any one society is made up of a number of communities, one might say even a hierarchy of communities.

Starting with the very primary or neighbourhood community in which each of us lives, then in our immediate surroundings we may belong to women’s groups, youth groups and religious groups. Each individual thus belongs to many communities at the same time. Others may be common interest groups, professional bodies, sports, recreation and leisure groups, service clubs, development committees and councils and so on.

To me, the concept of disability inclusion must invade and permeate all these communities so that within society itself inclusion is built on a holistic foundation. CBR is a strategy that makes such inclusion and participation possible.

Moving with the Japanese

During the years that followed I was a frequent visitor to Japan. Formal addresses at the Universities of Nagoya and that of Osaka. Lecture tours and workshops to meet disabled people, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, NGOs and other professionals. On many of these I was accompanied by Masayuko Watanabe, himself a physiotherapist with an abiding interest in CBR.

A remarkable experience I had at this time was a very prestigious invitation to JICA headquarters for a meeting on CBR on JICA-NET. This was a video network used to bring together participants from JICA supported countries through video or internet conferencing. While the focal point was at the very modern JICA headquarters in Tokyo, JICA country offices were connected to this and to each other.

We had a very interesting and long discussion on CBR with Japanese disabled people and others associated with JICA in their member countries. Yukiko was the meeting facilitator. At that time this technology was a rarity and the meeting was a privilege. It has now been replaced by zoom and is an everyday occurrence.

Social Work Research Institute of the Japan College of Social Work

Meanwhile, the Asia-Pacific Decade of Disabled Persons declared by the UN which started in 1992 was coming to an end. At this time, the Social Work Research Institute of the Japan College of Social Work launched an initiative in the form of a research study. This was conducted from 2001 through to 2003. The study examined the outcomes of the decade within the region for the preparation of policies and strategies to ensure continuity of its impact.

Countries invited to participate in the study were Australia, Cambodia, China, Indonesia, Japan, Mongolia, the Philippines, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Thailand, USA and Vietnam, and ESCAP. Representatives from these countries and ESCAP were invited to Tokyo each year to meet and share findings. I was invited to represent Sri Lanka.

Comprehensive reports of the study were published each year and called the “International Comparative Study on Disability Policies and Programmes in the 21st Century in Asia and the Pacific”.

An experience in Shinjuku

At the yearly meetings working days were heavy. Some of us needed to get away in the evenings to relax and be refreshed for the next day. On the humorous side, there is a memory I like to recall when I am asked about my experiences.

The American, the Thai and I soon became a close-knit trio. I have never understood how strangers come together to form a friendship group in such a short time. Alas, these are temporary. During that short time, we would spend the evenings enjoying whatever we could of Shinjuku where we were located. Shinjuku itself, though a ward of Tokyo, is very large. There was no way we could use the subway by ourselves. Signage in English was rare. But there was plenty to be enjoyed traversing Shinjuku on our feet.

And so the three of us found ourselves one evening in Tokyo’s Red Light District. John the size XXXL American in the middle and on either side of him the M-sized, sareed me and the S-minus Thai lady Gini. An unexpected threesome striding along, looking quite out of place in this bustling area, full of lights and of colour and of a particular kind of activity.

And then came to us a young man to ask, “You want girl? You want boy? You want boy and girl? See my photos?” with which he proceeded to show us proudly what he had to offer. Other young men started encircling us. The scene was becoming somewhat threatening.

John, the XXXL American, grabbed each of us by our elbows. We fled. We found a Starbucks at a safe distance. Where we sat and laughed our sides out over a world-renowned cup of American coffee. The first I had tasted of that brand. And have never drunk since. Nothing but prejudice of course.

Japan Overseas Volunteer Corps

Sri Lanka has been a close friend and a programme country of Japan for many decades. For the last forty years or more, we have being helped by the Japan Overseas Volunteer Corps or JOCV. Sri Lanka has had volunteers from Japan in the field of agriculture, forestry, education and health amongst other technical fields. They come to Sri Lanka quite conversant in our local languages and work closely with our people. We have had them help us in CBR too. Every year, about half a dozen find accommodation in the villages to work with local groups and with the area Social Service Officers.

Naoko Kato, the JOCV coordinator based in the embassy, made it a habit to bring to me for an unofficial briefing those that would work in disability before they went to their respective posts. Soon I was appointed as an official Adviser on Disability to the JOCV, Colombo. I continued as one for a few years. I must say the fluency volunteers showed in my mother tongue exceeded my own.

One day I was in discussion with the Director of Inclusive Education at the National Institute of Education in his office at Maharagama. I was with my back to the door. While we were talking, there was a tap on the door. It opened, and a female voice conversed with him in Sinhala for a few short minutes. I looked over my shoulder and saw it was a pretty young lady in Kandyan saree. When she had gone, I asked the director who it was. He replied, “Oh that is our Japanese volunteer.”

I had truly believed she was from the Kandyan areas for the fluency with which she used Sinhala. Moreover, she carried off that saree so gracefully – as though she had been born for it.



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

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Post-Gaddafi Civil war: the rebellion triggered by the arab spring of 2011 soon toppled the regime of Muammar Gaddafi. the power vacuum created by Gaddafi’s ouster has been exploited by local actors, as well as extraneous actors, with the only intention of making libya a war theatre for proxy wars and political disintegration

by Col. (R) Nalin Herath

There is a question that the international community must periodically ask itself: What happens to a State after its regime has been ousted?

The question is particularly relevant when examining Iraq and Libya. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were authoritarian rulers. Their governments were associated with political repression, human-rights violations and the suppression of political opposition. None of this should be ignored or excused. But recognising the failures of authoritarian rule does not prevent us from asking another, equally important strategic question:

Did the removal of these regimes adequately prepare for what came next?

The experience of Iraq and Libya suggests that removing a ruler is considerably easier than replacing the political, administrative and security architecture around that ruler.

Danger of confusing regime change with State reconstruction

A state is more than its leader. It consists of institutions, security forces, civil servants, courts, political structures, infrastructure, economic systems and, perhaps most importantly, an accepted monopoly over the legitimate use of force. When an authoritarian system has concentrated enormous power around one individual, removing that individual can expose weaknesses that were previously hidden. The strategic mistake is to assume that once the dictator has gone, a democratic and stable state will naturally emerge. History does not support such an assumption. The aftermath of Iraq demonstrates this particularly clearly. Following the 2003 invasion, the Coalition Provisional Authority issued Order No. 2, formally dissolving the Iraqi Ministry of Defence and the Iraqi Army, among other security institutions. A US congressional report later documented the enormous consequences of this decision, including the disappearance of hundreds of thousands of military personnel from the institutional framework of the state. Whatever the intentions behind the decision, the strategic consequence was that an established security structure had to be rebuilt while the country was simultaneously experiencing political upheaval and growing violence. That is a dangerous combination.

Iraq: Removing the structure before building the replacement

Saddam Hussein’s government was unquestionably authoritarian. It also reflected a complicated sectarian and political structure in which members of the Sunni minority occupied disproportionate positions of power despite being a demographic minority. But the question for strategic planners should not simply be whether Saddam deserved to remain in power. The question should have been:

What institutional structure would replace the system once he was removed?

An army can be politically controlled without being politically representative. A bureaucracy can serve an authoritarian government while still providing essential state functions. A security institution can be reformed without necessarily being destroyed. The distinction between reforming institutions and eliminating institutions is therefore critical. The post-2003 experience demonstrated the consequences of institutional disruption. Security vacuums contributed to insurgency and instability, while the process of rebuilding Iraq’s security forces took place amid an increasingly deteriorating security environment. The lesson is not that authoritarian institutions should never be reformed. The lesson is that state capacity should not be casually destroyed without a credible replacement.

Libya: prosperity, authoritarianism and institutional fragility

Libya presents an even more complicated case. Gaddafi’s government was authoritarian and deeply personalised. Political freedom was severely restricted, and the security apparatus was deliberately structured around regime survival. Yet Libya, under Gaddafi, also used substantial oil revenues to fund education, healthcare, infrastructure and social services. World Bank data from around the end of the Gaddafi era show life expectancy reaching approximately 75 years by 2011, skilled attendance at birth at 100 percent and measles immunisation at 98 percent. This does not prove that Gaddafi’s system was politically legitimate. It demonstrates something different: economic and social outcomes can coexist with authoritarian political structures.

The Great Man-Made River illustrates the scale of Libya’s investment ambitions. The World Bank described the project as one of the world’s largest engineering schemes, involving thousands of kilometres of planned pipelines to transport water from deep desert aquifers toward the populated coastal belt. The original project was estimated at approximately US$ 25 billion over several phases. Again, this should not become nostalgia for dictatorship. It should become a lesson in state capacity.

What happened after Gaddafi?

The post-2011 experience is perhaps the clearest illustration of the vacuum problem. Libya did not simply move from dictatorship to a consolidated democratic state. Instead, competing armed groups, political factions and institutions emerged. A UN economic and social affairs analysis concluded that the fall of the Gaddafi regime exposed weak state institutions and that the post-Gaddafi period was characterised by the proliferation of armed militias and institutional fragmentation.

The World Bank has similarly described how the security vacuum allowed armed groups to expand, while attempts to integrate them into the formal security apparatus produced a hybrid system in which state institutions and powerful armed groups operated alongside one another. This is the heart of the lesson. The consequences of regime change were also evident in Libya. The 2012 Benghazi attack, later portrayed in 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, illustrated the security vacuum that emerged after Gaddafi’s fall. The collapse of central authority allowed militias and competing armed groups to fill the space left by weakened state institutions. The lesson is clear: removing a regime may achieve military victory, but without a credible plan to rebuild the state, victory can quickly become a security vacuum.

When the state withdraws, something else occupies the space. If the replacement is not a legitimate national institution, the vacuum can be filled by militias, tribes, ideological movements, criminal networks or competing political authorities. The vacuum does not remain empty.

Terrorism question

There is another uncomfortable issue. Authoritarian regimes frequently suppress political and armed movements through coercive security systems. When those systems disappear abruptly, previously contained organisations can find new operating space. This does not mean that dictatorship is an appropriate method of counterterrorism. It means that counterterrorism cannot be separated from State capacity. The international community therefore needs to distinguish between defeating a particular terrorist organisation and maintaining the institutional conditions that prevent multiple armed actors from competing for power. The destruction of one regime does not automatically eliminate the forces that created insecurity. Sometimes it creates an environment in which those forces multiply.

Strategic mistake: winning the war but losing the peace

Military intervention can have a clearly defined operational objective. State reconstruction does not. A military campaign may successfully remove a government in weeks or months. Building legitimate institutions can take decades.This creates a fundamental strategic asymmetry. The shorter the planning horizon for intervention, the greater the danger of a long-term vacuum. The international community therefore needs to think beyond the first question: How do we remove the regime?

It must ask: Who governs the country the next morning? Who controls the borders? Who controls the security forces? Who pays government employees? Who maintains electricity, water and hospitals? Who protects critical infrastructure? Who administers justice? Who prevents armed groups from becoming alternative governments? Who provides political legitimacy? And perhaps most importantly: Who possesses the authority to enforce the decisions of the new state? If there are no convincing answers, regime change is only the beginning of the problem.

The lesson should not be that the United States or its allies should never intervene. Nor should it be that Saddam Hussein or Muammar Gaddafi should be rehabilitated as models of governance. The lesson is more practical. Regime change must never be confused with state-building.

Before dismantling an established political order, external powers need a credible understanding of the institutions that will replace it. Security-sector reform should normally distinguish between individuals who must be removed and institutions that must be preserved. A national army may need reform. A ministry may need restructuring. A security service may need accountability and civilian oversight. But destroying institutional capacity without having an operational replacement can create consequences far beyond the original objective.

Wider geopolitical lesson

The consequences of Iraq and Libya did not remain within their borders. State fragmentation affects neighbouring countries, migration, organised crime, arms trafficking, terrorism, energy markets and regional power competition. In today’s interconnected world, a failed transition in one country can become a security problem for an entire region. That is why intervention planning should include not only military objectives but also political, economic, humanitarian and security-sector objectives. The most important planning document may therefore not be the operational plan for removing the regime. It may be the plan for Day One after the regime has disappeared.

History should not be written as a simple choice between dictatorship and democracy. The real strategic challenge is more complicated. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were dictators. Their governments committed serious abuses, and their populations had legitimate grievances. But the failures of authoritarian rule do not automatically justify the destruction of state institutions without a credible plan for rebuilding them. The experience of Iraq and Libya demonstrates a fundamental principle of international security: A political vacuum is not neutral space. Someone will fill it. If legitimate national institutions cannot fill that space, armed groups, sectarian interests, extremist organisations or foreign-backed factions may do so. The ultimate lesson for the United States, its allies and the wider international community is therefore straightforward:

Removing a regime may win the immediate battle. Building a legitimate, functioning and secure state determines whether the intervention succeeds in the long term. The world should learn to ask not only “How do we remove the dictator?”. It must also ask:

“What happens to the country when he is gone?”

That may be the most important strategic question of all.

(The writer is the Secretary General of the Ceylon Chamber of Shipping, former Director General of the Institute of National Security Studies (INSS), and former Spokesman of the Ministry of Defence. He is also a Non-Resident Fellow at the London Dialogue. His areas of expertise include international relations, geopolitics, maritime affairs, national security, economic policy, and strategic governance. He is a consultant at JITT Group and a member of World Pace Board.).

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‘Death at the Sign of the Rook’

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Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 23

By Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha

As I have noted with regard to the adventures of John Rebus, I am indebted to Dinali Fernando and her husband Steve for whole hosts of thrillers. The latter strongly recommended Kate Atkinson when I borrowed four books. I wondered about this, for I had not been too impressed with her debut novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, which was amongst the entries I had to judge for the Eurasian section of the Commonwealth Writing Prize. Two decades later, I had forgotten what it had been about.

But I am glad Steve persuaded me to read her. Kate Atkinson is distinctively British, and Death at the Sign of the Rook is set in a country house and the surrounding village, and seems a modern descendant of the laidback Agatha Christies I so much enjoy.

There are, however, many differences in that we have a policeman who can go rogue, like Rebus, with again a female sidekick who has a mind of her own, again like Rebus. But Jackson Brodie has retired and set up as a private investigator, while Reggie, a young lady, is still in the police.

There is a lesbian couple living in the converted dairy of the manor house, as has occurred in Agatha Christie too, in A Murder is Announced. But they are peripheral to the story, unlike Ben, the brother of one of them who left the army after losing a leg in Afghanistan. When he turns up at the Manor House to shelter from a snowstorm, along with its chatelaine, Lady Milton, he is asked to answer the door as various characters turn up, including Jackson and Reggie, who then starts fantasising about him.

The others who turn up are two couples, one from America, who have paid for a murder weekend at the hotel. The family is impoverished, and has sold lots of pictures to survive, but most recently a Turner had been stolen, almost certainly by Lady Milton’s housekeeper Sophie, who vanished one night along with the picture. Reggie had been involved in that investigation, but there had been no trace of either picture or young lady.

Jackson Brodie suspects a connection between that theft and the one he has been called in to investigate, which has not been reported to the police. The picture hung opposite the bed of an old woman whose carer vanished after she died, along with it. Her children, adopted twins, have asked Jackson to investigate and also try to trace the carer, though he suspects something strange in that they did not go to the police.

Kate Atkinson

Brodie, in studying the stolen art, is also struck by the disappearance of a Rembrandt from a house in Scotland, along with a member of the cleaning staff. He thinks the three women might be the same one.

But Brodie’s assumption that the three women who vanished when valuable pictures did were identical would not have helped except that Beatrice, as she was also called, kept turning up, including to the funeral home where the old lady’s body was kept. And then that picture turned up, in the village church, and was found by the local vicar, Simon Cate, whose life story is also a prominent feature of the novel. He was an aspiring actor but then smitten by faith, and became a priest, but in time he lost his faith. His wife left him after the death of their son, and he is now in this backwater, where he feels he is of no use to anyone. But he has a great feel for living beings, and his most successful service has been one in which he blessed pets. And he was deeply concerned about the bees that Ben looks after for his sister and her wife.

He too staggers into the manor house in the midst of the storm, in which everyone concerned loses their way comprehensively. But amongst those Ben lets in is a man in a tracksuit with cuts and bruises, who then vanishes after he has been led to a bedroom, when Ben went in search of brandy. We soon work out that it is the escaped murderer about whom Reggie has been alerted.

Simon also turns up, through the back door, carrying the picture and also a gun, for he has found the dead body of one of his parishioners when he went to her house in search of his mobile phone. She had been shot and he had picked up the gun he found there. But he could not tell the police, for though he called he had lost his voice, and for the last few days had communicated only through writing.

This chaotic mix of characters at the manor house is further complicated by the group of players putting on the murder mystery play though some members have either cried off or died before reaching the venue. So, there is much doubling up and confusion over who is an actor and who is not.

The grand now largely empty rooms of the manor house, and its various odd passages and multiple doors, make it a splendid set for the lunacy that runs on and on. Reggie finds herself in a pantry Atkinsonwith a dead body, though this turns out to be the nanny who fell down the stairs and was put there by Lady Milton’s younger son. And there is high drama on the roof when the murderer nearly kills Ben, but he is saved by Reggie, and when he tries to kill Brody with an axe, he is shot by Beatrice, who has been the maid who served at the dinner before the murder mystery play, and explains to Brody how she has managed all her thefts.

And then in the melee, she vanishes on a motorbike, along with the daughter of the old lady’s adopted daughter, the only person who seemed to grieve at the funeral, and to whom the old lady had left her house in a codicil to her will, which her children have not known about. She leaves the picture to the carer, but it is brought to Simon Cate as he lies in hospital, recovering from a heart attack which adds confusion to the play.

Wonderfully convoluted, but all very clear, despite the headlong pace of the book and its shifts from one scene to another, from one character to another (or rather combinations of them) and from one-time span to another. A writer and a detective well worth looking out for. e more books by her on Dinali’s shelves.

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Safety, security and teamwork in aviation

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Indian Captain Smit Machchhar injured in the cockpit attack

by Capt. (Ret.).G.A. Fernando, MBA

There are three essential components to a commercial airline operation: safety, security and teamwork.

Aviation and teamwork at the ‘sharp’ end of a commercial aircraft, i.e. the flight deck, is unique. Unlike many other teams, it may be quite literally the first and the last time a particular combination of small teams of two, three, or four individual airmen (or women) will fly together. Sometimes even in the same airline that employs them.

Therefore, to make conditions safe and practical, while understanding and trusting tech other, they have to rely on a series of Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs), and ‘Normal’ and ‘Emergency’ checklists for every conceivable situation. That is, to be able to do the right things, and do things right. In fact, there is a saying in aviation to the effect that ‘if you make a mistake in aviation, be original and make a new one’.

To ensure that safety standards are constantly maintained, airline pilots’ proficiency is tested every six months, in simulators, under the supervision of examiners from the civil aviation regulator. In Sri Lanka that organisaton is the Civil Aviation Authority-Sri Lanka (CAASL). Three simulator checks are conducted every 12 months in keeping with the tenet that ‘practice makes perfect’. A pithy adage not confined to the world of aviation warns that ‘prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance’.

The simulator exercises include rejected takeoffs, including in cross-wind situations, landings, engine fires and/or engine failures from a variety of causes, cabin pressurisation failure, precision and non-precision approaches, and landings in bad visibility – amongst other conditions that could be expected in actual flight.

In addition, a flight in a real airplane, on a regular passenger service under the supervision of an examiner from the airline, is undertaken to ensure that the company’s standard practices and procedures are carried out and maintained as prescribed in the airline’s manuals. These publications are in turn approved by the national regulator.

Crash axe

Finally, flight crew members must take a written test annually, on emergency equipment locations and procedures, with 90% as the pass mark.

Since the mid-1980s it has been mandatory for airline pilots to undertake a Crew Resource Management (CRM) programme once every two years. This training essentially emphasises what to do and what not to do to, in a specific emergency situation, or even during normal operations, to make the team cohesive and effective. During the course, the CRM facilitators discuss recent incidents and accidents that have occurred. Results of those events are recorded and could be retrieved, when necessary, by the official aviation bodies.

Not unexpectedly, it is demanding on a pilot to fulfill these requirements on a regular basis throughout his/her career, along with presenting for a bi-annual medical examination, all with the objective of retaining one’s licence to operate an aircraft. It may not be understood, therefore, by persons outside the aviation industry, or even some working in other aspects of an airline organisation, that it is often the passion for flight that keeps many pilots doing what they do to earn a living.

Security

Another important factor is the challenge of maintaining security in all aspects of airline operations, not least in the cockpit. The challenges are many, with new ones surfacing almost every day. It is therefore essential to be always prepared for the activities and ‘methods’ of perpetrators seeking to wreak evil on an aircraft and its occupants. As it is impossible for any airline or national security organisation to cover all aspects, systematic management of risks to effect a safe outcome becomes imperative.

Flydubai Incident

In the recent Flydubai incident of 30 September, 2026, a first officer (co-pilot) attacked the captain of the flight with a crash axe to accomplish his sinister motives, into which investigations are continuing. For the time being, it prompts the questions: should the crash axe be easily accessible to the flight crew? Or even be there at all? I believe it is a case of assessing the greater risk.

With regard to that event, and the circumstances that led to it, other deterrents could have been applied more thoroughly. For example, more thorough screening of pilots’ and other crewpersons’ backgrounds, with emphasis on their mental health, ideological affiliations and previous employment history. Separately, during a time of conflict in the Middle East, should Flydubai have even been operating between Dubai and Tel Aviv? Notwithstanding that cost-cutting and profit maximisation are key aims of any business, an airline’s apparent failure to conduct adequate psychological profiling of flight crew members, while continuing to operate ‘profitable’ routes, regardless of potential danger, can only be regarded and condemned as greed and disregard for human lives.

( Captain. Fernando, RCyAF, SLAF, Air Ceylon, Air Lanka, Singapore Airlines (SIA), SriLankan Airlines, Former Chief Pilot, Air Lanka Boeing 737, Former Deputy Chief Pilot, Lockheed L 1011, Former Crew Resource Management (CRM) Facilitator, SIA, Former Deputy Director (Air Operations) CAASL, Former President, Aircraft Owners and Operators Association Sri Lanka (AOAOASL), President, The Colombo Flying Club, Representative for Aviation, Organisation of Professional Associations (OPA), Hony, and Member Sri Lanka Society of Transport and Logistics.)

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