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Thaththa’s Wireless

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Thaththa(my late father) was an avid radio listener. He called the radio a ‘wireless.’ Early in the morning, he listened to the news and, after dinner, to Sinhala and English songs. He allowed no one to talk aloud while he listened to the radio. Listening to the news and music was a struggle because of poor reception. He said the poor reception was because of the remoteness of Hambantota, where we lived. His friends advised him to buy a ‘six-valve’ Grundig radio for better reception. They coaxed him, saying he could, of course, as the Principal of St. Mary’s College, afford to buy a powerful radio. But Thaththa refused to discard his old Philips radio. Its front screen looked like an old rag, and the pilot light on the upper left corner was dead.

On a Saturday morning, Thaththa told me to get ready to go to Ambalantota, a bazaar about eight miles east of Hambantota. It was the first time he talked to me in two days. He had ignored me after I broke the glass door of his book cupboard. I played with my brothers in the front yard, throwing stones at birds. One stone went through the window of thaththa’s library and smashed the glass. I expected him to punish me, and I pleaded with Amma to protect me from him. His decision not to talk to me hurt me more than a slap from him. I was scared that he would not speak to me forever.

Amma dressed me up for the trip. She applied coconut oil to my head and talcum powder to my face. She pinned a small, folded handkerchief to my short-sleeved blue shirt. The handkerchief was to wipe my face if I sweated and clean my running nose. My new shoes were a bit too tight, but I was proud to wear them.

I enjoyed the bus ride to Ambalantota, a bustling bazaar with imported saappu badu (shop items). At the bazaar, thaththa looked for the radio shop for a few minutes. The shop owner recognized him, invited us to his shop, and offered tea. I got a small packet of biscuits and a ‘cool’ drink. He sipped hot tea sitting under a fan while chatting with the shopkeeper, who showed us five radios. Two were Philips radios, and the other three were Grundig. They all looked beautiful and smelled imported.

When the shop owner switched on the wooden-cased Grundig radio, a tiny sharp light appeared at the top left corner of its face. It was a tube light about one inch long and was vertically fixed to the beautiful, off-white, thick cloth covering the upper part of the radio face. The fabric looked like the lace that Amma weaved at home. The radio had a row of piano key-like square white buttons under the screen. The shopkeeper explained that they helped select wavebands, fine-tune between two overlapping broadcast stations, and reduce background noise. I touched the fabric and asked him about the purpose of the light tube. He explained that the beacon showed the battery power level. He connected the radio to a BEREC radio battery, a black box with several nodules on top of it.

Thaththa showed me the ‘long wave’ and ‘short wave’ bands on the glass panel below the screen by moving a vertical needle in the panel with one knob. The panel was backlit, and thaththa read aloud the country names printed on it. The other knob tuned the radio to different stations. He showed me how to lock the radio to a radio station by finding a city name on the panel. After tuning it to a BBC overseas programme, he exclaimed, “Look, now we are in London.” I visualized London City – Buckingham Place, double-decker buses, Prince Charles and Princess Anne. The cover page of the exercise books I used had a picture of the prince and princess. The radio was broadcasting a musical programme in English. I could not understand, but I enjoyed the beautiful music. I decided that one day I would visit London. Thaththa said that he liked the smooth sound quality of the Grundig and offered to buy it.

The shop owner offered a significant discount and a six-month payment plan. He told thaththa that the radio could be returned if he was not happy with it. Thaththa haggled with him and got an additional discount. he promised the shop owner that he would recommend the shop to teachers at the college. The shop owner was happy and gave thaththa a few items free — a ceramic disc with three holes to hold an aerial, a copper wire to ‘earth’ the radio, and 20 yards of wire for the aerial. The shop owner switched off the radio and carefully packed it into the radio box and other paraphernalia into another box. He also sold thaththa a new BEREC battery at a discounted price.

The two boxes were too big for us to carry to the bus station. Fortunately, thaththa met two of his students, and they willingly took the boxes to the Hambantota bus. There was only one empty seat on the bus. Thaththa asked me to sit, and he stood next to me. I shared the bus seat with a Buddhist monk and kept the two boxes before me. The priest wanted to know where I had been and with whom. My father intervened and told the priest we had just bought a radio.

The priest recognized my father, greeted him, and asked a few questions about the college and the drinking water situation in Hambantota. When we got home, thaththa told me the radio was my birthday gift, but I should share it with my three brothers. I did not believe him. A few months ago, he promised me an air gun for my seventh birthday. But at the last minute, he decided a gun was a dangerous weapon a young boy should not have.

Amma had already removed the old radio from the small round table in the sitting room, washed the plastic flower vase on the radio, and rearranged the plastic flowers. She kept a folded old bed sheet to cover the new radio when not in use. Thaththa asked me to fetch Polydole, his golaya (acolyte), at the church. (Polydole was a pet name – his real name was Aelian. He was a distant relative of the parish priest; he stayed at the vicar’s lodge and attended school). I ran to the churchyard and found Polydole in his small room. I told him about the radio and the new BEREC battery. He stopped reading and followed me home.

Thaththa scouted the backyard to find an open space for the radio’s aerial. He took the ceramic disk, tied a long piece of twine to the first of its three holes, and tied another piece to the third hole. He then tied the aerial wire to the middle hole of the ceramic disk. Then, he removed two inches of the rubber insulation of the wire end to expose its metal strands to radio waves. He then told Polydole to climb the large kohomba (margosa) tree in the compound and secure one twine rope to a branch. After that, Polydole climbed the nearby murunga tree and tied the second twine rope to a branch about 30 feet above the ground. The aerial was long enough to reach the radio through the grill above the large window in the sitting room. Amma worried that the aerial might conduct lighting to the radio in a storm. Thaththa dismissed her fear, saying lightning would not come along the wire.

Thaththa and Polydole sat on the sitting room floor and checked the radio after taking it out of the box. Thaththa read the instruction sheet several times and connected the ‘earth’ and ‘aerial’ wires to the radio. My brothers, Gamini and Nihal, fought to grab the empty radio cardboard box. Thaththa gave the battery box to Gamini, and Nihal disappeared with the radio box. He then plugged the radio into the battery, rechecked the instruction sheet, and switched the radio on. First, there was no sound. He fiddled with the two knobs on the radio for a while, and suddenly, we were listening to soft and clear music.

Thaththa announced that only he should switch on and off the radio. As the radio’s owner, I was to cover it when unused. Nihal told Gamini that he could play a song with the set of buttons below the upper screen of the radio, just as one would play a piano, and Gamini believed him.

Weerasinghe, thaththa’s friend, came to see the new radio that evening. He listened as thaththa explained its novelty and various features. The radio had six valves, which gave sufficient power to get radio signals from anywhere in the world. Thaththa showed him how to tune the radio to BBC. They carefully studied the radio and read all the countries on the screen. Weerasinghe told thaththa that it was a good purchase.

A little later, Nihal came running and announced that the radio chassis was hot. Thaththa ran to the sitting room, checked the frame, and switched off the radio. Weerasinghe said that the radio’s chassis becomes hot because of the heat generated inside the radio by the six valves. Thaththa was not convinced. The following weekend, he took the radio to a repair shop in Hambantota to check why the chassis had gotten heated. A technician at the shop told him not to cover the radio with cloth or plastic sheet when in use.

The new radio changed thaththa‘s life. After the morning news, he and I listened to a Philippine-based Catholic radio broadcast. It was a half-hour program with three old Sinhala songs and 15 minutes of catechism. In the evening, we heard the news and, once a week, we all listened to ‘Sandeshya’, the BBC Sinhala Program on contemporary world affairs. From 7.30 to 9.00 in the evening, thaththa kept the radio on. As a family, we listened to musical programs and political discussions of the hour. Once a week, Thaththa brought his senior college students to listen to a world geography programme on the radio. He was pleased when the students commented on the sound quality.

Thathatha discussed news and programs on the radio with Weerasinghe in the evenings at our place. I sat on his lap and listened to their discussions. Usually, he talked and expressed his views, and Weerasinghe mostly agreed with him. If the debate continued, thaththa offered Weerasinghe a shot of arrack and Amma invited him to stay for dinner, which he gladly accepted.

The radio travelled with us from Hambantota to Wattala and to Hendala. At each house, it was prominent in the sitting room. Over time, Amma became addicted to radio programmes. Most of her morning time, after we all went to school, was spent listening to Sinhala songs, news, and short dramas. I remember listening to a radio programme in Sinhala on Kennedy soon after his assassination in 1963.

I once saw a radiogram in the parlour next to the college chapel. It was a piece of furniture that combined a radio and record player, a large box with many knobs. A beautifully carved thin teak plank and thick cloth covered its front. Once, a teacher took us to the chapel and played a gramophone record of Ave Maria on the radiogram. We were astounded by the volume of the radiogram and the beauty of the smooth music that emanated from it. I inquired from the teacher about the brand of the radiogram. He said ‘Grundig’. I told my father about the radiogram and its brand, and he promised to visit it.

The Grundig radio has been with us for more than nine years. Thaththa once told me that German technology was much more advanced than Dutch or English technology. After thaththa’s death in 1967 we found it cheaper to buy a transistor radio than a BEREC radio battery for the old Grundig. We reluctantly switched to a small transistor radio, allowing one of the memories that tied us with thaththa to fade.



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Disaster-proofing paradise: Sri Lanka’s new path to global resilience

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iyadasa Advisor to the Ministry of Science & Technology and a Board of Directors of Sri Lanka Atomic Energy Regulatory Council A value chain management consultant to www.vivonta.lk

As climate shocks multiply worldwide from unseasonal droughts and flash floods to cyclones that now carry unpredictable fury Sri Lanka, long known for its lush biodiversity and heritage, stands at a crossroads. We can either remain locked in a reactive cycle of warnings and recovery, or boldly transform into the world’s first disaster-proof tropical nation — a secure haven for citizens and a trusted destination for global travelers.

The Presidential declaration to transition within one year from a limited, rainfall-and-cyclone-dependent warning system to a full-spectrum, science-enabled resilience model is not only historic — it’s urgent. This policy shift marks the beginning of a new era: one where nature, technology, ancient wisdom, and community preparedness work in harmony to protect every Sri Lankan village and every visiting tourist.

The Current System’s Fatal Gaps

Today, Sri Lanka’s disaster management system is dangerously underpowered for the accelerating climate era. Our primary reliance is on monsoon rainfall tracking and cyclone alerts — helpful, but inadequate in the face of multi-hazard threats such as flash floods, landslides, droughts, lightning storms, and urban inundation.

Institutions are fragmented; responsibilities crisscross between agencies, often with unclear mandates and slow decision cycles. Community-level preparedness is minimal — nearly half of households lack basic knowledge on what to do when a disaster strikes. Infrastructure in key regions is outdated, with urban drains, tank sluices, and bunds built for rainfall patterns of the 1960s, not today’s intense cloudbursts or sea-level rise.

Critically, Sri Lanka is not yet integrated with global planetary systems — solar winds, El Niño cycles, Indian Ocean Dipole shifts — despite clear evidence that these invisible climate forces shape our rainfall, storm intensity, and drought rhythms. Worse, we have lost touch with our ancestral systems of environmental management — from tank cascades to forest sanctuaries — that sustained this island for over two millennia.

This system, in short, is outdated, siloed, and reactive. And it must change.

A New Vision for Disaster-Proof Sri Lanka

Under the new policy shift, Sri Lanka will adopt a complete resilience architecture that transforms climate disaster prevention into a national development strategy. This system rests on five interlinked pillars:

Science and Predictive Intelligence

We will move beyond surface-level forecasting. A new national climate intelligence platform will integrate:

AI-driven pattern recognition of rainfall and flood events

Global data from solar activity, ocean oscillations (ENSO, MJO, IOD)

High-resolution digital twins of floodplains and cities

Real-time satellite feeds on cyclone trajectory and ocean heat

The adverse impacts of global warming—such as sea-level rise, the proliferation of pests and diseases affecting human health and food production, and the change of functionality of chlorophyll—must be systematically captured, rigorously analysed, and addressed through proactive, advance decision-making.

This fusion of local and global data will allow days to weeks of anticipatory action, rather than hours of late alerts.

Advanced Technology and Early Warning Infrastructure

Cell-broadcast alerts in all three national languages, expanded weather radar, flood-sensing drones, and tsunami-resilient siren networks will be deployed. Community-level sensors in key river basins and tanks will monitor and report in real-time. Infrastructure projects will now embed climate-risk metrics — from cyclone-proof buildings to sea-level-ready roads.

Governance Overhaul

A new centralised authority — Sri Lanka Climate & Earth Systems Resilience Authority — will consolidate environmental, meteorological, Geological, hydrological, and disaster functions. It will report directly to the Cabinet with a real-time national dashboard. District Disaster Units will be upgraded with GN-level digital coordination. Climate literacy will be declared a national priority.

People Power and Community Preparedness

We will train 25,000 village-level disaster wardens and first responders. Schools will run annual drills for floods, cyclones, tsunamis and landslides. Every community will map its local hazard zones and co-create its own resilience plan. A national climate citizenship programme will reward youth and civil organisations contributing to early warning systems, reforestation (riverbank, slopy land and catchment areas) , or tech solutions.

Reviving Ancient Ecological Wisdom

Sri Lanka’s ancestors engineered tank cascades that regulated floods, stored water, and cooled microclimates. Forest belts protected valleys; sacred groves were biodiversity reservoirs. This policy revives those systems:

Restoring 10,000 hectares of tank ecosystems

Conserving coastal mangroves and reintroducing stone spillways

Integrating traditional seasonal calendars with AI forecasts

Recognising Vedda knowledge of climate shifts as part of national risk strategy

Our past and future must align, or both will be lost.

A Global Destination for Resilient Tourism

Climate-conscious travelers increasingly seek safe, secure, and sustainable destinations. Under this policy, Sri Lanka will position itself as the world’s first “climate-safe sanctuary island” — a place where:

Resorts are cyclone- and tsunami-resilient

Tourists receive live hazard updates via mobile apps

World Heritage Sites are protected by environmental buffers

Visitors can witness tank restoration, ancient climate engineering, and modern AI in action

Sri Lanka will invite scientists, startups, and resilience investors to join our innovation ecosystem — building eco-tourism that’s disaster-proof by design.

Resilience as a National Identity

This shift is not just about floods or cyclones. It is about redefining our identity. To be Sri Lankan must mean to live in harmony with nature and to be ready for its changes. Our ancestors did it. The science now supports it. The time has come.

Let us turn Sri Lanka into the world’s first climate-resilient heritage island — where ancient wisdom meets cutting-edge science, and every citizen stands protected under one shield: a disaster-proof nation.

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The minstrel monk and Rafiki the old mandrill in The Lion King – I

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Why is national identity so important for a people? AI provides us with an answer worth understanding critically (Caveat: Even AI wisdom should be subjected to the Buddha’s advice to the young Kalamas):

‘A strong sense of identity is crucial for a people as it fosters belonging, builds self-worth, guides behaviour, and provides resilience, allowing individuals to feel connected, make meaningful choices aligned with their values, and maintain mental well-being even amidst societal changes or challenges, acting as a foundation for individual and collective strength. It defines “who we are” culturally and personally, driving shared narratives, pride, political action, and healthier relationships by grounding people in common values, traditions, and a sense of purpose.’

Ethnic Sinhalese who form about 75% of the Sri Lankan population have such a unique identity secured by the binding medium of their Buddhist faith. It is significant that 93% of them still remain Buddhist (according to 2024 statistics/wikipedia), professing Theravada Buddhism, after four and a half centuries of coercive Christianising European occupation that ended in 1948. The Sinhalese are a unique ancient island people with a 2500 year long recorded history, their own language and country, and their deeply evolved Buddhist cultural identity.

Buddhism can be defined, rather paradoxically, as a non-religious religion, an eminently practical ethical-philosophy based on mind cultivation, wisdom and universal compassion. It is  an ethico-spiritual value system that prioritises human reason and unaided (i.e., unassisted by any divine or supernatural intervention) escape from suffering through self-realisation. Sri Lanka’s benignly dominant Buddhist socio-cultural background naturally allows unrestricted freedom of religion, belief or non-belief for all its citizens, and makes the country a safe spiritual haven for them. The island’s Buddha Sasana (Dispensation of the Buddha) is the inalienable civilisational treasure that our ancestors of two and a half millennia have bequeathed to us. It is this enduring basis of our identity as a nation which bestows on us the personal and societal benefits of inestimable value mentioned in the AI summary given at the beginning of  this essay.

It was this inherent national identity that the Sri Lankan contestant at the 72nd Miss World 2025 pageant held in Hyderabad, India, in May last year, Anudi Gunasekera, proudly showcased before the world, during her initial self-introduction. She started off with a verse from the Dhammapada (a Pali Buddhist text), which she explained as meaning “Refrain from all evil and cultivate good”. She declared, “And I believe that’s my purpose in life”. Anudi also mentioned that Sri Lanka had gone through a lot “from conflicts to natural disasters, pandemics, economic crises….”, adding, “and yet, my people remain hopeful, strong, and resilient….”.

 “Ayubowan! I am Anudi Gunasekera from Sri Lanka. It is with immense pride that I represent my Motherland, a nation of resilience, timeless beauty, and a proud history, Sri Lanka.

“I come from Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka’s first capital, and UNESCO World Heritage site, with its history and its legacy of sacred monuments and stupas…….”.

The “inspiring words” that Anudi quoted are from the Dhammapada (Verse 183), which runs, in English translation: “To avoid all evil/To cultivate good/and to cleanse one’s mind -/this is the teaching of the Buddhas”. That verse is so significant because it defines the basic ‘teaching of the Buddhas’ (i.e., Buddha Sasana; this is how Walpole Rahula Thera defines Buddha Sasana in his celebrated introduction to Buddhism ‘What the Buddha Taught’ first published in1959).

Twenty-five year old Anudi Gunasekera is an alumna of the University of Kelaniya, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in International Studies. She is planning to do a Master’s in the same field. Her ambition is to join the foreign service in Sri Lanka. Gen Z’er Anudi is already actively engaged in social service. The Saheli Foundation is her own initiative launched to address period poverty (i.e., lack of access to proper sanitation facilities, hygiene and health education, etc.) especially  among women and post-puberty girls of low-income classes in rural and urban Sri Lanka.

Young Anudi is primarily inspired by her patriotic devotion to ‘my Motherland, a nation of resilience, timeless beauty, and a proud history, Sri Lanka’. In post-independence Sri Lanka, thousands of young men and women of her age have constantly dedicated themselves, oftentimes making the supreme sacrifice, motivated by a sense of national identity, by the thought ‘This is our beloved Motherland, these are our beloved people’.

The rescue and recovery of Sri Lanka from the evil aftermath of a decade of subversive ‘Aragalaya’ mayhem is waiting to be achieved, in every sphere of national engagement, including, for example, economics, communications, culture and politics, by the enlightened Anudi Gunasekeras and their male counterparts of the Gen Z, but not by the demented old stragglers lingering in the political arena listening to the unnerving rattle of “Time’s winged chariot hurrying near”, nor by the baila blaring monks at propaganda rallies.

Politically active monks (Buddhist bhikkhus) are only a handful out of  the Maha Sangha (the general body of Buddhist bhikkhus) in Sri  Lanka, who numbered just over 42,000  in 2024. The vast majority of monks spend their time quietly attending to their monastic duties. Buddhism upholds social and emotional virtues such as universal compassion, empathy, tolerance and forgiveness that protect a society from the evils of tribalism, religious bigotry and death-dealing religious piety.

Not all monks who express or promote political opinions should be censured. I choose to condemn only those few monks who abuse the yellow robe as a shield in their narrow partisan politics. I cannot bring myself to disapprove of the many socially active monks, who are articulating the genuine problems that the Buddha Sasana is facing today. The two bhikkhus who are the most despised monks in the commercial media these days are Galaboda-aththe Gnanasara and Ampitiye Sumanaratana Theras.  They have a problem with their mood swings. They have long been whistleblowers trying to raise awareness respectively, about spreading religious fundamentalism, especially, violent Islamic Jihadism, in the country and about the vandalising of the Buddhist archaeological heritage sites of the north and east provinces. The two middle-aged monks (Gnanasara and Sumanaratana) belong to this respectable category. Though they are relentlessly attacked in the social media or hardly given any positive coverage of the service they are doing, they do nothing more than try to persuade the rulers to take appropriate action to resolve those problems while not trespassing on the rights of people of other faiths.

These monks have to rely on lay political leaders to do the needful, without themselves taking part in sectarian politics in the manner of ordinary members of the secular society. Their generally demonised social image is due, in my opinion, to  three main reasons among others: 1) spreading misinformation and disinformation about them by those who do not like what they are saying and doing, 2) their own lack of verbal restraint, and 3) their being virtually abandoned to the wolves by the temporal and spiritual authorities.

(To be continued)

By Rohana R. Wasala ✍️

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US’ drastic aid cut to UN poses moral challenge to world

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An UN humanitarian mission in the Gaza. [File: Ashraf Amra/Anadolu Agency]

‘Adapt, shrink or die’ – thus runs the warning issued by the Trump administration to UN humanitarian agencies with brute insensitivity in the wake of its recent decision to drastically reduce to $2bn its humanitarian aid to the UN system. This is a substantial climb down from the $17bn the US usually provided to the UN for its humanitarian operations.

Considering that the US has hitherto been the UN’s biggest aid provider, it need hardly be said that the US decision would pose a daunting challenge to the UN’s humanitarian operations around the world. This would indeed mean that, among other things, people living in poverty and stifling material hardships, in particularly the Southern hemisphere, could dramatically increase. Coming on top of the US decision to bring to an end USAID operations, the poor of the world could be said to have been left to their devices as a consequence of these morally insensitive policy rethinks of the Trump administration.

Earlier, the UN had warned that it would be compelled to reduce its aid programs in the face of ‘the deepest funding cuts ever.’ In fact the UN is on record as requesting the world for $23bn for its 2026 aid operations.

If this UN appeal happens to go unheeded, the possibilities are that the UN would not be in a position to uphold the status it has hitherto held as the world’s foremost humanitarian aid provider. It would not be incorrect to state that a substantial part of the rationale for the UN’s existence could come in for questioning if its humanitarian identity is thus eroded.

Inherent in these developments is a challenge for those sections of the international community that wish to stand up and be counted as humanists and the ‘Conscience of the World.’ A responsibility is cast on them to not only keep the UN system going but to also ensure its increased efficiency as a humanitarian aid provider to particularly the poorest of the poor.

It is unfortunate that the US is increasingly opting for a position of international isolation. Such a policy position was adopted by it in the decades leading to World War Two and the consequences for the world as a result of this policy posture were most disquieting. For instance, it opened the door to the flourishing of dictatorial regimes in the West, such as that led by Adolph Hitler in Germany, which nearly paved the way for the subjugation of a good part of Europe by the Nazis.

If the US had not intervened militarily in the war on the side of the Allies, the West would have faced the distressing prospect of coming under the sway of the Nazis and as a result earned indefinite political and military repression. By entering World War Two the US helped to ward off these bleak outcomes and indeed helped the major democracies of Western Europe to hold their own and thrive against fascism and dictatorial rule.

Republican administrations in the US in particular have not proved the greatest defenders of democratic rule the world over, but by helping to keep the international power balance in favour of democracy and fundamental human rights they could keep under a tight leash fascism and linked anti-democratic forces even in contemporary times. Russia’s invasion and continued occupation of parts of Ukraine reminds us starkly that the democracy versus fascism battle is far from over.

Right now, the US needs to remain on the side of the rest of the West very firmly, lest fascism enjoys another unfettered lease of life through the absence of countervailing and substantial military and political power.

However, by reducing its financial support for the UN and backing away from sustaining its humanitarian programs the world over the US could be laying the ground work for an aggravation of poverty in the South in particular and its accompaniments, such as, political repression, runaway social discontent and anarchy.

What should not go unnoticed by the US is the fact that peace and social stability in the South and the flourishing of the same conditions in the global North are symbiotically linked, although not so apparent at first blush. For instance, if illegal migration from the South to the US is a major problem for the US today, it is because poor countries are not receiving development assistance from the UN system to the required degree. Such deprivation on the part of the South leads to aggravating social discontent in the latter and consequences such as illegal migratory movements from South to North.

Accordingly, it will be in the North’s best interests to ensure that the South is not deprived of sustained development assistance since the latter is an essential condition for social contentment and stable governance, which factors in turn would guard against the emergence of phenomena such as illegal migration.

Meanwhile, democratic sections of the rest of the world in particular need to consider it a matter of conscience to ensure the sustenance and flourishing of the UN system. To be sure, the UN system is considerably flawed but at present it could be called the most equitable and fair among international development organizations and the most far-flung one. Without it world poverty would have proved unmanageable along with the ills that come along with it.

Dehumanizing poverty is an indictment on humanity. It stands to reason that the world community should rally round the UN and ensure its survival lest the abomination which is poverty flourishes. In this undertaking the world needs to stand united. Ambiguities on this score could be self-defeating for the world community.

For example, all groupings of countries that could demonstrate economic muscle need to figure prominently in this initiative. One such grouping is BRICS. Inasmuch as the US and the West should shrug aside Realpolitik considerations in this enterprise, the same goes for organizations such as BRICS.

The arrival at the above international consensus would be greatly facilitated by stepped up dialogue among states on the continued importance of the UN system. Fresh efforts to speed-up UN reform would prove major catalysts in bringing about these positive changes as well. Also requiring to be shunned is the blind pursuit of narrow national interests.

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