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Sir Oliver Goonetilleke 1892-1978

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(Excerpted from Selected Journalism by HAJ Hulugalle)

Sir Oliver Goonetilleke seems to have had an almost mystical faith in his destiny. On his first night in Queen’s House, he pondered not for the first time, some words of Marcus Aurelius which served as a kind of motto in his life: “Does ought befall you? It is good. It is part of the destiny of the universe ordained for you from the beginning. All that befalls you is part of the great web.”

It is true that he was always prepared to assist destiny in fulfilling his own ambitions; but there is no escape when the oracle says that a man is born to be a king. This is exactly what happened to Oliver Goonetilleke at his birth. A Buddhist priest by the name of Dhammarama, who happened to be around, made a quick calculation, and told the sceptical father, “Your son will be a king.”

When Sir Oliver was appointed Governor-General, his father, then in his middle nineties was heard to repeat over and over again, “Dhammarama, Dhammarama.” The old man saw his son, if not exactly a King as the astrologer had predicted, at any rate the representative of the Queen and head of the State.

Queen’s House was not the end of the journey. There is always a yearning, as in the case of Ulysses, to try something new; “some work of noble note may yet be done.”

Having had a father who lived to be 95 and a mother to 85, Sir Oliver, with his abstemious habits, may become the first centenarian among Ceylon’s famous men. He has gained many “firsts” in his career and even in his recreations. He gave Lester Pigott, the champion jockey, his first ride in a race.

There are three main aspects of this biography.* There is first the portrait of the man himself, a success story if ever “here was one in our modern annals. There is then the social, official and political scene in which the struggling postmaster’s son operated. Finally, there are the men (and women) whom he influenced and who influenced him.

*This article was published as a review of Oliver Goonetilleke: A Biography by Sir Charles Jeffries, Pall Mall Press, London 1969.

Although the Ceylon public is familiar with much of the ground covered by the book, there is a good deal of detail that is new and refreshing. Much of it no doubt has been supplied by Sir Oliver himself, who would not be human if he did not sometimes enjoy his own reflected image in the background of the stirring times through which he has lived.

A convenient starting point is the small son of the postmaster at Nuwara Eliya accompanying the postman on his rounds to collect flowers to be sent to his father’s friends in Colombo to adorn their weddings and festivals. Sir Charles Jeffries, always ready to point a moral and adorn a tale, says that -these flower-gathering expeditions gave him an early exercise in the art of tactful persuasion of which he was to become master.”

Oliver Goonetilleke was always determined to reach the top of the ladder, but it was a hard life that he had as a school boy, walking to school to save tram fares, growing vegetables to feed the boarders which the family took in to augment the domestic resources, just failing to win the Government university scholarship to England and missing a place in the Civil Service.

It is interesting to note that the subjects he offered for the London BA examination included Psychology and Logic. Those were days before Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People. But these studies were not in vain for one who became a master negotiator. Sir John Kotelawala says in referring to their common war-time experiences that Sir Oliver displayed “a genius for handling men and finding a way out of every difficult situation in those critical days.”

Goonetilleke was never disheartened by failure. From the first he realized that the best and quickest way to advance his career was by becoming useful to, and using, those who had already reached eminence, or who were, in his opinion, on the threshold of greatness. He joined the Orient Club and frankly admits that he joined it mainly in order to find a place in the Ceylon sun for myself.

The elite of Ceylonese, manhood – at that time class distinctions were taken for granted -formed the membership of the Orient Club, and I was there working my way upwards in life.”

Racing was another rung for the ladder. Here he combined business with pleasure. Always a shrewd punter, he moved among some of the richest and most influential men in the country. F. G. Morley, the Colonial Auditor, conveniently retired and became Secretary of the Turf Club, to make way for Goonetilleke. Arthur Ephraums, hotel-owner and turfite, was his partner in land deals which was the base of his own fortune.

Other spheres of his activity were the YMCA (reference was once made by a reluctant admirer to his ‘YMCA smile’), and the Incorporated Board of Trustees of the Anglican Church. The fact that he became a lifelong teetotaller and non-smoker, Sir Charles Jeffries thinks, is probably due to the Methodist tradition in which he was educated at Wesley College. But he was always careful about his health and daily consumed quantities of orange juice. He was possibly the first Ceylonese to install air-conditioning in his bedroom and study.

Gradually he made his way “with his soft voice, ever-ready smile and gift of combining unanswerable logic with impeccable courtesy.” He was always kind to the under-dog and considerate to the wealthy and influential.

When the post of Auditor-General fell vacant, it is said that Sir Graeme Tyrrell, the Chief Secretary, was not in favour of appointing him. But he was not to be baulked. As Sir Charles Jeffries says: “Goonetilleke realised that for him this was the crucial point of his career. He was determined to leave no stone unturned to ensure that his name was at least put forward to the Colonial Office. “Throwing discretion to the winds, he appealed to his friends to use their influence in his favour. A deputation to the Governor, Sir Graeme Thomson, was hastily arranged, and in due course the Governor decided to recommend him for the post.”

He did an excellent job as Auditor-General and made that office his power-base during the 11 years he held it. His friendship with D. S. Senanayake drew him into the vortex of politics in which a lesser man would have floundered. Oliver Goonetilleke was the supreme odd-job man for any government. He kept the Public Service sweet, he wrote Budget speeches, he composed differences between dissenting Ministries and even managed to get Pandit Nehru to withdraw a sharp letter he had written to Sir John Kotelawala.

One could dwell indefinitely on Oliver Goonetilleke, the man. But space must be found for his achievements in the larger field. During the war years he was a tower of strength to the Government and kept both Sir Andrew Caldecott and Sir Geoffrey Layton, Governor and Commander-in-Chief, in their respective anomalous positions satisfied.

“At official banquets His Excellency the Governor was served first with the soup while His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief was served first with the next course, fish. And I always arranged for the national anthem to be played by a Service band when His Excellency the Governor arrived at a function. This was, of course, after His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief had been ceremoniously received before the arrival of the Governor !”

There was of course the famous occasion when one night the Commander-in-Chief rang to say: “Goone! You’re running a damn bad show!” On the night when General Wavell was to stay at the Admiral’s residence there was no water in the bathroom taps. And it was ‘Goone’s’ job to lay on the fire brigade to ensure that the overhead tanks were kept full.

Sir Oliver Goonetilleke played a vital role in the negotiations over independence and on many an occasion his wisdom and common sense saved the situation. In September 1945, the British Government published the Soulbury Report, followed in October by a statement of what it had decided to do about it. Mr. D. S. Senanayake’s first reaction was to reject the terms offered and defy perfidious Albion to do its worst. Sir Oliver thought otherwise. The Lake House newspapers had decided to support the Ministers and leading articles to this effect had been prepared. On the night before they appeared, Sir Oliver made a last appeal.

Sir Charles Jeffries writes, no doubt on the authority of Sir Oliver: “His arguments prevailed, and it was agreed to go at once to see his old chief D. R. Wijewardene, the head of the newspaper group. The official chauffeurs had been sent home and taxis were scarce: so it was in two rickshaws that Senanayake and Goonetilleke rode in the dark to see their newspaper-magnate friend and tell him of the new policy. After long discussions he too was brought to agree with the more moderate cause.”

When Ceylon became independent, Sir Oliver went to London as the first High Commissioner. He had the honour of a visit to Ceylon House by the King and Queen during a reception for Mr. D.S. Senanayake. He was blamed for buying an expensive carpet, but it transpires that he bought a property for the Ceylon Government in Grosvenor Square for ten thousand pounds sterling and sold it for fifty thousand pounds sterling.

There was always the possibility of his becoming a property tycoon like Charles Clore or Maxwell Joseph, had Sir Oliver timed his exit from Queen’s House better. “Indeed, although the profit on this deal was handsome enough.” comments Sir Charles on the Grosvenor Square sale, “he could reflect in later life that, if his government had the sense to hold on to the house, it could have sold for half a million in a few year’s time.”

Sir Oliver reached the pinnacle of his career at the age of 62. The eight years of his occupancy could not have been more stirring. D.S. Senanayake, D.B. Jayatilaka and D.R. Wijewardene were all dead and he was the surviving elder statesman. There was none to go for counsel or restraining influence.

Sir John Kotelawala lost the election in 1956. Sir Oliver is reported to have said: “Prime Minister, I am talking to you not only as Governor-General but as one who has known you all your life. The duly constituted umpire – the ballot box – has given a verdict. I may even agree with the view that the verdict was unfair, but it is still the umpire’s verdict.” Sir John did not allow Sir Oliver to finish. “You are right,” he said. “Here is my resignation.” He had in fact brought it with him.

S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, when he was Prime Minister, lunched with the Governor-General on Wednesdays, as his predecessors had done. “He would pull out his notes” (Sir Oliver says), and tell me about his worries, of the communal religious groups which were badgering him in regard to appointments in the administrative service, the armed services and the police, and of his fears concerning those who might obstruct the peaceful transition to socialism on which he had set his heart.” There were even occasions when he requested the Governor-General to use his good offices to settle strikes.

Sir Oliver was at his best as a firm and dedicated administrator during the troubles of 1958. He was then the virtual ruler of the island and displayed unusual courage and sagacity. No one else could have handled the situation better.

After Bandaranaike’s tragic death and the short government of Dudley Senanayake, “a new and formidable figure now appeared on the political scene.” The widow needed the help and advice of the veteran statesman, (`Mahadanamutta’ he used to be called by D.R. Wijewardene) as much as her husband had done. During the strikes in the port of Colombo, the commercial banks and the Ceylon Transport Board, the Governor-General was at her residence at 6 o’clock every morning.

As Sir Charles says, he enjoyed playing the political game with whatever pieces happened to be on the board from time to time. He enjoyed the prestige and glamour of office. He was entertaining not only heads of state, but rich friends like Krupp, Rothschilds, Rockefellers and Maharanis. Yuri Gagarin was his guest, and he quizzed Chou En-lai who confessed that the main question before China was the longevity of Chiang Kai-shek.

Sir Oliver was in daily touch with Mrs. Bandaranaike on the telephone. Then came the alleged coup d’etat early in 1962. In the documents in the case were included a statement by one of the accused that the Governor-General along with Dudley Senanayake and Sir John Kotelawala had tacitly approved of the plan, and that orders were coming ‘right from the top.’ Sir Oliver offered to submit to any investigation.

“Meanwhile,” concludes Sir Charles Jeffries, “the Prime Minister without any reference to him, had advised the Queen to replace him as Governor-General by a prominent Kandyan lawyer, Mr. W. Gopallawa, who had served as Ceylon ambassador in the United States. On March 1, 1962, Sir Oliver vacated Queen’s House to become a private citizen. A week later he left Ceylon. He was in his 70th year and had completed over 40 years of unbroken public service.”

He might justly say with Othello; I have done the State some service and they know 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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