Features
Rethinking global order in the precincts of Nalanda
It has become fashionable to criticise the US for its recent conduct toward Iran. This is not an attempt to defend or rationalise the US’s actions. Rather, it seeks to inject perspective into an increasingly a historical debate. What is often missing is institutional memory: An understanding of how the present international order was constructed and the conditions under which it emerged.
The “rules-based order” was forged in the aftermath of two catastrophic wars. Earlier efforts had faltered. Woodrow Wilson’s proposal for a League of Nations after World War I was rejected by the US Senate. Yet, it introduced a lasting premise: International order could be consciously designed, not left solely to shifting power balances. That premise returned after World War II. The Dumbarton Oaks process laid the groundwork for the UN, while Bretton Woods established the global financial architecture.
These frameworks shaped modern norms of security, finance, trade, and governance. The US played the central role in this design, providing leadership even as it engaged selectively- remaining outside certain frameworks while shaping others. This underscored a central reality: Power and principle have always coexisted uneasily within it.
This order most be understood against the destruction that preceded it. Industrial warfare, aerial bombardment, and weapons capable of unprecedented devastation reshaped both the ethics and limits of conflict. The post-war system emerged from this trauma, anchored in a fragile consensus of “never again”, even as authority remained concentrated among five powers.
The rise of China, the re-emergence of India, and the growing assertiveness of Russia and regional powers are reshaping the global balance. Technological disruption and renewed competition over energy and resources are transforming the nature of power. In this environment, some American strategists argue that the US risks strategic drift Iran, in this view, becomes more than a regional issue; it serves as a platform for signalling resolve – not only to Tehran, but to Beijing and beyond. Actions taken in one theatre are intended to shape perceptions of credibility across multiple fronts.
Recent actions suggest that while the US retains unmatched military reach, it has exercised a level of restraint. The avoidance of escalation into the most extreme forms of warfare indicates that certain thresholds in great-power conflict remain intact. If current trends persist-where power increasingly substitutes for principle — this won’t remain a uniquely American dilemma.
Other major powers may face similar choices. As capabilities expand, the temptation to act outside established norms may grow. What begins as a context-specific deviation can harden into accepted practice. This is the paradox of great power transition: What begins as an exception risk becoming a precedent The question now is whether existing systems are capable of renewal. Ad hoc frameworks may stabilise the present, but risk orphaning the future. Without a broader framework, they risk managing disorder rather than designing order. The Dumbarton Oaks process was a structured diplomatic effort shaped by competing visions and compromise. A contemporary equivalent would be more complex, reflecting a more diffuse distribution of power and lower levels of trust Such an effort must include the US, China, India, the EU, Russia, and other key powers.
India could serve as a credible convenor capable of bridging divides. Its position -engaged with multiple powers yet not formally aligned – gives it a degree of convening legitimacy. Nalanda-the world’s first university – offers an appropriate symbolic setting for such dialogue, evoking knowledge exchange across civilisations rather than competition among them.
Milinda Moragoda is a former cabinet minister and diplomat from Sri Lanka and founder of the Pathfinder Foundation, a strategic affairs think tank could be contacted atemail@milinda.org. This article was published in Hindustan Times on 2026.04.19)
By Milinda Moragoda
Features
Father and daughter … and now Section 8
The combination of father and daughter, Shafi and Jana, as a duo, turned out to be a very rewarding experience, indeed, and now they have advanced to Section 8 – a high-energy, funk-driven, jazz-oriented live band, blending pop, rock, funk, country, and jazz.
Guitar wizard Shafi is a highly accomplished lead guitarist with extensive international experience, having performed across Germany, Australia, the Maldives, Canada, and multiple global destinations.
He is best known as a lead guitarist of Wildfire, one of Sri Lanka’s most recognised bands, while Jana is a dynamic and captivating lead vocalist with over a decade of professional performing experience.
Jana’s musical journey started early, through choir, laying the foundation for her strong vocal control and confident stage presence.
Having also performed with various local bands, and collaborated with seasoned musicians, Jana has developed a versatile style that blends energy, emotion, and audience connection.
The father and daughter combination performed in the Maldives for two years and then returned home and formed Section 8, combining international stage experience with a sharp understanding of what it takes to move a crowd.
In fact, Shafi and Jana performed together, as a duo, for over seven years, including long-term overseas contracts, building a strong musical partnership and a deep understanding of international audiences and live entertainment standards.
Section 8 is relatively new to the scene – just two years old – but the outfit has already built a strong reputation, performing at private events, weddings, bars, and concerts.
The band is known for its adaptability, professionalism, and engaging stage presence, and consistently delivers a premium live entertainment experience, focused on energy, groove, and audience connection.
Section 8 is also a popular name across Sri Lanka’s live music circuit, regularly performing at venues such as Gatz, Jazzabel, Honey Beach, and The Main Sports Bar, as well as across the southern coast, including Hikkaduwa, Ahangama, Mirissa, and Galle.
What’s more, they performed two consecutive years at Petti Mirissa for their New Year’s gala, captivating international audiences present with high-energy performance, specially designed for large-scale celebrations.
With a strong following among international visitors, the band has become a standout act within the tourist entertainment scene, as well.
Their performances are tailored to diverse audiences, blending international hits with dance-driven sets, while also incorporating strong jazz influences that add depth, musicianship, and versatility to their sound.
The rest of the members of Section 8 are also extremely talented and experienced musicians:
Suresh – Drummer, with over 20 years of international experience.
Dimantha – Keyboardist, with global exposure across multiple countries.
Dilhara – Bassist and multi-instrumentalist, also a composer and producer, with technical expertise.
Features
Celebrations … in a unique way
Rajiv Sebastian could be classified as an innovative performer.
Yes, he certainly has plenty of surprises up his sleeves and that’s what makes him extremely popular with his fans.
Rajiv & The Clan are now 35 years in the showbiz scene and Rajiv says he has plans to celebrate this special occasion … in a unique way!
According to Rajiv, the memories of Clarence, Neville, Baig, Rukmani, Wally and many more, in its original flavour, will be relived on 14th July.
“We will be celebrating our anniversary at the Grand Maitland (in front of the SSC playground) on 14th July, at 7.00pm, and you will feel the inspiration of an amazing night you’ve never seen before,” says Rajiv, adding that all the performers will be dressed up in the beautiful sixties attire, and use musical instruments never seen before.
In fact, Rajiv left for London, last week, and is scheduled to perform at four different venues, and at each venue his outfit is going to be different, he says, with the sarong being very much a part of the scene.
Features
The Digital Pulse: How AI is redefining health care in Sri Lanka?
A quiet yet profound shift is underway in American healthcare, and its implications extend far beyond the United States’ borders. A recent Associated Press report describes a scene that would have seemed improbable, even five years ago: a woman in Texas, experiencing side effects from a weightloss injection, does not call her doctor, visit a clinic, or even search Google. Instead, she opens her phone and consults ChatGPT. She tells the system how she feels, describes her symptoms, and receives an instant explanation. This behaviour, once the domain of early adopters and technology enthusiasts, has now entered the mainstream. A West Health–Gallup poll confirms that nearly onequarter of American adults used an AI tool for health information or advice in the previous month. For a country with one of the world’s most expensive and fragmented healthcare systems, this shift is not merely a technological curiosity. It is a sign of the public searching for speed, clarity, and affordability in a system that often fails to provide any of these.
Sri Lanka, though vastly different in scale, culture, and resources, is not insulated from this global transformation. If anything, the pressures that drive Americans toward AI—long wait times, high costs, difficulty accessing specialists—are even more acute in our own health system. The difference is that Sri Lanka is only beginning to experience the cultural and institutional adjustments that accompany widespread AI use. Yet the trajectory is unmistakable. What is happening in the United States today is almost certainly a preview of what will happen here tomorrow in Sri Lanka, though in a form shaped by our own social realities, linguistic diversity, and healthcare traditions.
The American experience shows that AI is becoming the new gateway to health information. As Dr. Karandeep Singh of UC San Diego observes, AI tools now function as an improved version of the old Google search. Instead of sifting through dozens of links, users receive a concise, conversational summary tailored to their question. This is precisely the kind of convenience that Sri Lankans, too, will find irresistible. In a country where a single specialist appointment can require hours of travel, waiting, and uncertainty, the appeal of an instant, alwaysavailable digital assistant is obvious. The idea that one could ask a question about a rash, a fever, a medication side effect, or a lab report and receive an immediate explanation—without navigating hospital queues or private consultation fees—will inevitably attract public interest. For example, one of my friends, who was with me in school, called me and said he is prescribed Linavic, a drug for type 2 diabetes. I told him that, as it is not widely known in the USA, to give me the generic name. He searched ChatGPT and told me it is called Tradjenta, which is widely available in the USA as a prescription drug for type 2 diabetes.
But Sri Lanka’s path will not be identical to America’s. Our adoption of AI in healthcare is emerging through institutions rather than individuals. Nawaloka Hospitals has already introduced AI-powered chatbots, including NASHA, an OPD assistant capable of guiding patients through symptom assessment and basic triage. This is a significant development because it signals that Sri Lankan hospitals are preparing for a future in which AI is not an optional addon but a core part of patient interaction. The government’s draft National AI Strategy reinforces this direction by identifying healthcare as a priority sector and emphasising responsible, transparent, and safe deployment. Academic bodies, such as the Sri Lanka Medical Association, have also begun training clinicians to understand and work alongside AI systems. These are early but important steps, suggesting that Sri Lanka is building the professional ecosystem needed for safe AI integration.
Yet, the public’s relationship with AI remains limited. Unlike in the United States, where consumers independently experiment with tools like ChatGPT, Sri Lankans tend to rely on doctors as the primary source of authority. Digital literacy varies widely, especially outside urban centres. Sinhala and Tamilcapable AI tools are still developing. And our society has a long history of health misinformation spreading rapidly through social media, from miracle cures to conspiracy theories. Without careful regulation and public education, AI could amplify these risks rather than reduce them. The danger is not that AI will replace doctors, but that poorly informed users may treat AI outputs as definitive diagnoses, bypassing professional care when it is urgently needed.
At the same time, Sri Lankans’ lived experiences reveal why AI will inevitably become part of the healthseeking landscape. Anyone who has visited the outpatient department of a major government hospital knows the reality: queues forming before dawn, patients clutching files and prescriptions, and overworked medical officers trying to see hundreds of cases in a single shift. In rural areas, the situation is even more challenging. A villager in Monaragala or Mullaitivu may have to travel hours to see a specialist, often relying on neighbours or family for transport. Many postpone care simply because they are unsure whether a symptom is serious enough to justify the journey. For such individuals, an AI-based triage tool—available on a basic smartphone, in Sinhala or Tamil—could be transformative. It could help them decide whether to seek immediate care, wait for the next clinic day, or manage the issue at home.
Sri Lanka’s private healthcare sector, too, is ripe for AI integration. Private hospitals are increasingly turning to digital systems for appointment scheduling, lab report delivery, and patient communication. Anyone who has waited for hours at a private OPD, despite having an appointment, knows the frustration. AI-driven systems could help streamline patient flow, predict peak times, and reduce bottlenecks. They could also assist doctors by summarising patient histories, flagging potential drug interactions, and providing evidencebased guidelines. For patients, AI could offer explanations of lab results in simple language, reducing anxiety and improving understanding.
There are already glimpses of this future. Some Sri Lankan patients, especially younger urban professionals, quietly admit that they use AI tools to interpret their blood tests before seeing a doctor.
Others use AI to understand the side effects of medications prescribed to them. Parents use AI to check whether a child’s fever pattern is typical or concerning. Migrant workers, returning home for short visits, use AI to prepare questions for their doctors, ensuring they make the most of limited consultation time. These behaviours mirror the early stages of the American trend, though on a smaller scale.
Sri Lanka’s cultural context will shape how AI is used. Our society places great trust in doctors, often viewing them as authoritative figures whose word should not be questioned. This trust is a strength, but it can also discourage patients from seeking information independently. AI has the potential to shift this dynamic—not by undermining doctors, but by empowering patients to participate more actively in their own care. A patient who understands their condition is better able to follow treatment plans, ask relevant questions, and recognise warning signs. AI can support this empowerment, provided it is used responsibly.
The deeper question is not whether Sri Lanka will adopt AI in healthcare, but how. The American example shows both the promise and the peril. AI can democratise access to information, reduce anxiety, and empower patients. But it can also mislead, oversimplify, or create false confidence. The challenge for Sri Lanka is to build a culture of responsible use—one that recognises AI as a tool, not a substitute for clinical judgment. Hospitals must ensure accuracy and transparency. Regulators must set standards. And the public must learn to treat AI as a guide, not a guru.
Sri Lanka has an opportunity to leapfrog. By studying the American experience, we can avoid its pitfalls and adopt its strengths. We can design AI systems that respect our linguistic diversity, our cultural habits, and our healthcare realities. We can integrate AI into hospitals in ways that enhance, rather than erode, the doctor-patient relationship. And we can prepare our citizens to use these tools wisely, with curiosity but also with caution.
The transformation is already underway. It will accelerate whether we prepare for it or not. The question for Sri Lanka is whether we will shape this future deliberately or allow it to shape us by default. The American shift toward AImediated healthcare is a reminder that technology does not wait for societies to catch up. It moves forward, and nations must decide whether to follow passively or lead thoughtfully. Sri Lanka, with its strong public health tradition and growing technological ambition, has every reason to choose the latter.
by Prof Amarasiri de Silva
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