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Richard de Zoysa at 67

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by Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha

Today would have been Richard de Zoysa’s 67th birthday. That almost seems a contradiction in terms, for one could not, in those distant days of his exuberant youth, have thought of him as ever getting old. His death, when he was not quite 32, has fixed him forever, in the minds of those who knew and loved him, as exuding youthful energy.

It was 35 years ago that he was abducted and killed, and I fear his memory had begun to fade in the public mind. So we have to be thankful to Asoka Handagama and Swarna Mallawarachchi for bringing him to life again through the film about his mother. This was I think more because of Swarna, for I still recall her coming to see me way back in 2014 – August 28th it was, for my father was dying, though he was still mindful enough to ask me how my actress was after I had left him that afternoon to speak to her downstairs – to talk about her plans for a film about Manorani.

His friends have in general criticised the film, and I too wonder as to why she and the Director did not talk to more of his friends before they embarked on the enterprise. But perhaps recreating actual situations was not their purpose, or rather was not his, and that is understandable when one has a particular vision of one’s subject matter.

After listening to and reading the responses of his friends, I am not too keen to see the film, though I suspect I will do so at some stage. Certainly, I can understand the anger at what is seen as the portrayal of a drunkard, for this Manorani never to my knowledge was. But I think it’s absurd to claim there was never alcohol in the house, for there was, and Manorani did join in with us to have a drink, though she never drank to excess. Richard and I did, I fear, though not at his house, more at mine or at his regular haunt, the Art Centre Club.

I am sorry too that the ending of the film suggests that the murder was the responsibility of just its perpetrators, for there is no doubt that it was planned higher up. I myself have always thought it was Ranjan Wijeratne, who was primarily responsible, though I have no doubt that Premadasa also had been told – indeed Manorani told me that he had turned on Ranjan and asked why he had not been told who exactly Richard was.

But all that is hearsay, and it is not likely that we shall ever be able to find out exactly what happened. And otherwise it seems to me from what I have read, and in particular from one still I have seen (reproduced here), illustrating the bond between Richard and his mother, the film captures two vital factors, the extraordinary closeness of mother and son, and the overwhelming grief that Manorani felt over his death.

Despite this she fought for justice, and she also made it clear that she fought for justice not only for her son, but for all those whose loved ones had suffered in the reign of terror unleashed by JR’s government, which continued in Premadasa’s first fifteen months.

I have been surprised, when I was interviewed by journalists, in print and the electronic media, that none of them remembered Ananda Sunil, who had been taken away by policemen eight years earlier, when JR issued orders that his destructive referendum had to be won at all costs. Manorani told me she had met Ananda Sunil’s widow, who had complained, but had then gone silent, because it seemed the lives of her children had been threatened.

Manorani told me that she was comparatively lucky. She had seen her son’s body, which brought some closure, which the other women had not obtained. She had no other children, and she cared nothing for any threats against her own life for, as she said repeatedly, her life had lost its meaning with Zoysa’s death and she had no desire to live on.

I am thankful then that the film was made, and I hope it serves to renew Richard’s memory, and Manorani’s, and to draw attention to his extraordinary life, and hers both before and after his death. And I cannot be critical about the fact that so much about his life was left out, for a film about his mother’s response to his death could not go back to the past.

But it surprised me that the journalists did not know about his own past, his genius as an actor, his skill as a writer. All of them interviewed me for ages, for they were fascinated at what he had achieved in other spheres in his short life. Even though not much of this appeared in what they published or showed, I hope enough emerged for those interested in Richard to find out more about his life, and to read some of his poetry.

A few months after he died – I had been away and came back only six months later – I published a collection of his poetry, and then a few years later, having found more, republished them with two essays, one about our friendship, one about the political background to his death. And the last issue of the New Lankan Review, which he and I had begun together in 1983 in the tutory we had set up after we were both sacked from S. Thomas’, was dedicated to him. It included a striking poem by Jean Arasanayagam who captured movingly the contrast between his genius and the dull viciousness of his killers.

After those initial memorials to his life and his impact, I started working on a novel based on our friendship. I worked on this when I had a stint at the Rockefeller Centre in Bellagio in 1999, but I was not satisfied, and I worked on it for a few years more, before finally publishing the book in 2005. It was called The Limits of Love and formed the last book in my Terrorist Trilogy, the first book of which, Acts of Faith, had been written with his support, after the July 1983 riots. That was translated into Italian, as Atti di Fedi, and came out in 2006 in Milan.

The Limits of Love

did not receive much publicity, and soon afterwards I was asked to head the Peace Secretariat, and after that I wrote no more fiction. But when Godage & Bros had published several of my non-fiction works in the period after I was excluded from public life, I asked them to republish Acts of Faith, which they did, and that still remains in print. They also republished in 2020 Servants, my novel that won the Gratiaen Prize for 1995.

I thought then that it would be a good idea to republish The Limits of Love, and was delighted that Neptune agreed to do this, after the success of my latest political history, Ranil Wickremesinghe and the emasculation of the United National Party. I thought initially of bringing the book out on the anniversary of Richard’s death, but I had lost my soft copy and reproducing the text took some time. And today being Poya I could not launch the book on his birthday.

It will be launched on March 31st, when Channa Daswatte will be free to speak, for I recalled that 20 years ago my aunt Ena told me that he had admired the book. I think he understood it, which may not have been the case with some of Richard’s friends and relations, for this too is fiction, and the Richard’s character shares traits of others, including myself. The narrator, the Rajiv’s character, I should add is not myself, though there are similarities. He is developed from a character who appeared in both Acts of Faith and Days of Despair, though under another name in those books. Rajiv in the latter is an Indian Prime Minister, though that novel, written after the Indo-Lanka Accord, is too emotional to be easily read.

Manorani hardly figures in The Limits of Love. A Ranjan Wijesinghe does, and also a Ronnie Gooneratne, but of more interest doubtless will be Ranil and Anil, two rival Ministers under President Dicky, both of whom die towards the end of the book. Neither, I should add, bears the slightest resemblance to Ranil Wickremesinghe. His acolytes may try to trace elements of him in one or other of the characters, for I remember being told that Lalith Athulathmudali’s reaction to Acts of Faith was indignation that he had not appeared in it.

Fiction has, I hope, the capacity to bring history to life, and the book should be read as fiction. Doubtless there will be criticism of the characterisation, and of course efforts to relate this to real people, but I hope this will not detract from the spirit of the story, and the depiction of the subtlety of political motives as well as relationships.

The novel is intended to heighten understanding of a strange period in our history, when society was much less fragmented than it is today, when links between people were based on blood as much as on shared interests. But I hope that in addition it will raise awareness of the character of the ebullient hero who was abducted and killed 35 years ago.

The film has roused interest in his life, though through a focus on his death. The novel will I hope heighten awareness of his brilliance and the range of his activity in all too short a life.



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The Digital Pulse: How AI is redefining health care in Sri Lanka?

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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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Not a dog barked

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I began running on the beach after a fall on a broken pavement left me with a head injury and a surgically repaired eyebrow. Mount Lavinia beach, world‑famous and crowded, especially on Sundays, is only a seven‑minute walk from home, so it became the obvious place for my rehabilitation jogs.

On my first day, my wife, a true Mount Lavinia girl, accompanied me. Though we’ve been married for over 40 years, this was the first time I had ever jogged on the beach. She practically shepherded me there and watched from a safe distance as I made my way towards the Wellawatte breakwater. Dogs were everywhere: some strays, some with collars. I’m not usually afraid of dogs, so I ran past them confidently. Then one fellow barked sharply, making me stop. He advanced even after I stood still. I bent down, picked up some sand, and only then did he retreat, still protesting loudly. On my return run, he repeated the performance.

The next time, I carried a stick. The beach was quiet, perhaps my friend had taken the day off. But on the third day he was back, barking as usual. I showed him the stick and continued. Further along, more dogs barked, and I repeated the ritual. Soon I found myself growing jittery, even numb, whenever I approached a dog. Jogging was no longer comfortable.

My elder daughter, an ardent animal lover who keeps two dogs and wanting to have more, suggested bribery, specifically, biscuits. So, on my next run, I filled my pocket with them. When the usual culprit appeared, I tossed him a biscuit before he could bark. He sniffed suspiciously, then ate it. I jogged on. The rest of the “orchestra” received similar treatment and promptly forgot to bark. Not a dog barked the entire run, or on my way back.

Some groups had five or six dogs, but bribing the noisiest one was enough to quieten the rest. Soon they grew used to me running close to them, and the biscuits made me a trusted friend. These round little sugary crackers turned out to be the perfect currency for seemingly aggressive but essentially harmless dogs, a fact well known to my daughter, Dr. Honda Hitha, but a revelation to me.

One day, a friendly dog decided to escort me home. After receiving his biscuit, he lingered near our gate before returning to the beach. Over time, the number of escorts grew until I found myself flanked by about 10 canine disciples. They became my strength instead of a source of fear. They were darlings. Unlike humans, their affection, even if won initially with biscuits, soon became unconditional.

They still accompany me home, whether or not they receive a treat. Bless them! May they be born human in their next lives, perhaps the only way our wicked world can become a better place.

by Dr. M. M. Janapriya

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It’s Israel and US that need a regime change

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Netanyahu and Trump

If there is one country that urgently needs a regime change it is Israel. The whole world is suffering and thousands of people, including children and women, are dying due to Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s political survival strategy. He needs the war to avoid going to jail and also certain defeat at the next elections. The corruption and other charges against him, if proved, would send him to jail. He had asked the Israel President for a pardon and his friend Trump also has written to the President, on his behalf.

Netanyahu is able to commit genocide in Gaza with impunity because the US backs him to the hilt, economically, politically, militarily and also in the United Nations. Without all this, Israel will not be able to fight its many wars and pursue its “Greater Israel” project in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, and also weaken the countries that oppose its grand plan, such as Iran, Yemen and Turkey. The US gives military aid to Israel, worth USD 3.8 bn, annually, which is used in these genocidal wars and expansionist projects. The US is, therefore, complicit in all these war crimes.

US presidents, beginning from Eisenhower (1950) to Joe Biden (2022), expressed displeasure at Israeli aggression. Ronald Reagan halted the shipment of cluster artillery shells, in 1982, over concerns about their use against civilians in Lebanon, and delayed the delivery of F-16 warplanes until Israel withdrew from Lebanon. George H.W. Bush (1990s) postponed $10 billion in loan guarantees in 1991 to pressure Israel to stop building settlements in the West Bank and to attend the Madrid peace conference. Barack Obama  frequently criticised Israeli settlement expansion and, in the final days of his term, withheld a US UN Security Council veto on a resolution regarding settlements. Joe Biden (2020s) threatened to withhold military aid if Israel launched a major offensive in Rafah during the 2024 conflict in Gaza, pausing a shipment of heavy bombs. Most of these presidents had been in favour of the two state solution for the Palestine problem as well.

Trump abandoned these longstanding US policies on Israel that were upheld by Obama and later restored by Biden. Significant and far-reaching changes, included recognising Jerusalem as Israel’s capital,  moving the embassy, declaring settlements not inherently illegal, and recognising Golan Heights, which belonged to Syria, as part of Israel sovereignty. These evil deeds of Trump seem to have boomeranged on him as he battles to extricate himself from a war forced on him by Israel, which has resulted in enormous economic and political, not to mention military, losses for the US and Trump. Consequently Israel, in the eyes of many leading political commentators, is now a liability for the US.

   How this war was started reveals the dastardly and barbaric mentality of Netanyahu and Trump. The US and Iran were engaged in negotiations, with the mediation of Oman, to resolve their differences, and on 26 February, 2026, the Foreign Minister of Iran stated that a historical agreement with the US was about to be entered into and, the following day, Oman corroborated this announcement. Iran apparently had agreed that its nuclear programme could be brought under the surveillance of the International Atomic Energy Agency. Surprisingly on 28 February, 2026, Israel and the US attacked Iran, Trump saying that it posed a nuclear threat to the US! Oman said it was “dismayed” and the Iranian Foreign Minister said it was a “betrayal”. Obviously, Trump, who is under obligation to the Jewish lobby, which had funded his election campaign, had been drawn into the war. The Epstein files issue may have pushed Trump across the threshold. Iran’s response was calculated and appropriate. Trump says he will obliterate the Iranian civilisation in one night but soon agrees to have negotiations with Iran, in Islamabad.

However, Netanyahu cannot afford an end to the war he started to save his own skin. He goes ahead and drops 100 bombs in 10 minutes on Lebanon, killing 254 civilians, including children. The massacre in Lebanon continues with Israel pushing towards the Litani river in an attempt to annex southern Lebanon. Israel disqualifies itself not only as a reliable ally but also as an honourable member of the world community by having leaders of the calibre of Netanyahu. Israel is fast becoming internationally isolated, according to experts like Professors Robert Pape, John Measheimier, Richard Wolff, Jeffrey Sachs and Yanis Varonfakis. And these experts are of the view that if Israel continues its aggressive approach and expansionist policy, disregarding the historical facts of its origin and the Palestine problem, it will implode and destroy itself.

Israel must face the reality that Iran has emerged stronger after the war and may have control over the Strait of Hormuz and may even force the US out of the region. Israel, under Netanyahu, may not be willing to acknowledge these facts, but the people in the US must realise that it is not in their national interests to have Israel as an indispensable ally. This war is very unpopular in the US not entirely due to the economic impact but the extremely atrocious way it has been prosecuted by Israel  and also the equally horrendous threats made by the US against Iran. It is also very unpopular among the US allies who bluntly refused to join or even approve it. Australia, Japan and South Korea, though far removed from the theatre of war, seem to be pretty angry about the whole thing, as they are badly affected by the economic impact of the war. They may be concerned about the brutality of Israel, and the degree of support and approval it gets from the US.

Those who have significantly gained from the war may be Russia who could have a windfall on their oil sales, and China who could quietly weave its diplomatic network throughout the Middle East and watch the decline of US influence in the region. Saudi Arabia and UAE, two countries bombed by Iran, have already started a dialogue with Iran. These developments may hasten the emergence of the new world order, spearheaded by China.

The war, that was started by Netanyahu, with a willing Trump, seems to have backfired on them, with both facing a hostile world and a fast changing geopolitical global situation. Trump’s MAGA project was aimed at quelling the growth of the new world order that had China and Russia at the head. He attempted to hit Russia with sanctions but failed. He tried to curb China with tariffs but failed. Denying oil supplies to China was attempted by kidnapping the Venezuelan President. China’s monopoly on rare earth minerals was a headache to Trump and he proposes to annex Canada and Greenland which have rich deposits of these elements. War on Iran was another opportunity to do a regime change and get control over that country and its oil. He threatened to wipe out Iran saying that “the civilization would die tomorrow night”, only a psychopathic megalomaniac could make such utterances , not a president of the US. Fortunately, the changing world order would not allow Trump to achieve any of his crazy goals.

Netanyahu inadvertently may have hastened his own downfall by starting a war without realising that the global geopolitics have changed and he cannot have his way even with the full backing of Trump. Both Israel and the US need a regime change if the world is to have peace.

 by N. A. de S. Amaratunga

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