Features
The Journey of the Relics
by Shashank Sinha
The very mention of Sanchi, located about 50 kilometres from Bhopal, brings to mind a place where one can see the beginnings, efflorescence and decay of Buddhist art and architecture – from the third century BCE to 12th century CE. What is less known about Sanchi is the fact that it was also a site for an interesting and prolonged ‘battle of relics’ fought across continents. A number of relics and artefacts excavated by British archaeologists in India and elsewhere in the late 19th or early 20th century, eventually found their way to museums or personal collections in Britain. While some campaigns to get back Indian artefacts, such as the Amravati Marbles, have received a great deal of publicity, other successful efforts, like the one to retrieve the Buddhist relics, stayed below the public radar.
The manner in which the relics of Buddhist saints Sariputta and Moggallana were discovered at the sites of Sanchi and Satdhara (about 10 km west of Sanchi) and eventually sold to the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A Museum) in London the protracted agitation by the Maha Bodhi Society which succeeded in getting them back from England; and the way in which the relics were taken on a tour of Asia before getting re-enshrined at Sanchi in 1952, is a fascinating story. More so because it highlights the interplay of several significant trajectories – colonial archaeology’s project of creating and museumising the Buddha by excavating sites connected to his life, the rise of subcontinental Buddhist nationalism, and the nation-building project.
Unravelling the journey
Alexander Cunningham, the first Director General of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), mentions that the two celebrated Chinese pilgrims, Fa-Hien (399-411 CE) and Xuanzang (629-41 CE), who had come to India to visit the sacred sites related to the Buddha had reported that the relics of these two saints were also enshrined in a stupa in Mathura. Cunningham believed that these relics were as widely scattered as those of the Buddha himself and were distributed and enshrined in other stupas as well.
Two things become clear here – by the time Stupa three at Sanchi was constructed (around second century BCE), relic worship had become very prevalent in Buddhism and relics other than those of the Buddha were also being worshipped. What is not clear is how the relics in question reached Sanchi. Basing himself on the Buddhist source Asokavadana, Cunningham argued that the Mauryan emperor Ashoka had opened up the original eight stupas constructed immediately after the death of the Buddha and redistributed the relics between the several thousand stupas he built across the subcontinent. In the process, some may have reached Sanchi.
How the relics reached England
In 1849, Captain Fred C Maisey and Alexander Cunningham were employed by the Government of India to prepare illustrated reports on the stupas of Sanchi. In 1851, they excavated Stupas two and three and found relic caskets of Sariputta and Moggallana in Stupa three. The caskets, made of steatite, were placed in two stone boxes, each containing a small bone fragment, a garnet, lapis lazuli and crystal beads, and pearls. Sariputta’s casket contained two pieces of sandalwood, presumably from his funeral pyre. A similar set of relics of the two saints was found enshrined in Stupa two at Satdhara as well.
According to historian and Indologist Michael Willis, Cunningham and Maisey divided up the finds according to their tastes— while the former preferred the relics with inscriptions that were of archaeological interest, the latter took the pieces which were of greater artistic value. Cunningham transported his reliquaries to England on two ships, one of which reportedly sank off the east coast of Ceylon. Maisey made separate arrangements for the reliquaries in his possession to be shipped to England.
There is a debate among scholars on whether the reliquaries of the two Buddhist saints which were returned to Maha Bodhi Society and re-enshrined at Sanchi had been discovered there or at Satdhara. Some scholars believe that the reliquaries taken from Sanchi had gone to Cunningham, which means they sank along with the ship that was carrying them. Art historian Gary Tartakov and Michael Willis have argued that the relics that were eventually returned to India by the Victoria & Albert (V&A)Museum were those taken from Stupa two at Satdhara.
However, based on records related to filing and documentation of the concerned relics at the museum and Cunningham’s correspondence with the Sinhalese monk Subhuti (1835-1917), Brekke argues that the relics brought back to Sanchi had neither formed a part of Cunningham’s collection nor were found at Satdhara. According to him, they were part of Maisey’s collection from Sanchi which were initially lent to the South Kensington Museum in 1866 (it became the V&A in 1899), with his son’s niece, Dorothy Saward, selling the reliquaries to the V&A Museum for 250 pounds in 1921.
The battle for the relics
On April 17, 1932, on behalf of the Buddhist Mission (the British Maha Bodhi Society) one G.A. Dempster wrote to the director of the Indian Museum (the Indian section of South Kensington Museum which officially opened in 1880 and was popularly referred to as Indian Museum till 1945). He requested the museum to hand the ashes of Buddha’s most famous disciples to the custody of the Mulagandha Kuti Vihara established in Sarnath, near Varanasi. Brekke says he was evidently inspired by the recent news of the return of the Buddha’s relics to India which had been re-enshrined in a purpose-built edifice in Sarnath.
Dempster was informed that the Board of Education was unable to authorize the V & A Museum to comply with the request. On October 18, 1932, E.W. Adikaram, honorary secretary of the Buddhist Mission, approached the V&A Museum to allow the Buddhists to worship the relics on the 2476th death anniversary of Sariputta, falling on November 13th 1932. He requested that the relics be sent to the Buddhist Mission headquarters for a few hours on the designated day. The museum authorities acceded to the request on the condition that the relics be venerated at the Indian Museum itself.
After a seven year-gap, in 1938, the V&A Museum received a request from a British Buddhist named Frank Mellor, requesting the museum to set up a seat in front of the relics for the Buddhists to worship. When his request was denied, Mellor, who became a “headache” for the museum authorities, followed up with a flurry of letters demanding that the relics be handed over the to the Buddhists. Archaeologist and historian Himanshu Prabha Ray points out that in March 1939, the trustees of the Shwedagon Pagoda in Burma also lodged a strong protest with the British government for allowing the relics to be exhibited in a museum rather than enshrining them in a pagoda. There were similar representations from other British Buddhists and soon the issue started attracting media attention.
In 1939, the museum received a letter from the India Office which, in turn, had received a letter from the Government of India, inquiring about the possession of such relics and the possibility of their return to the Maha Bodhi Society. The letter enclosed a resolution unanimously passed by the Buddha Society of Bombay, appealing for the return of the relics to the Maha Bodhi Society of Calcatta. With this letter, Brekke argues, the case assumed a new level of significance as the Government of India spoke on behalf of the Indian Buddhists; the English Buddhists got sidelined.
The issue regained momentum after the Second World War. On the 20 February , 1947, the relics were handed over to the Maha Bodhi Society representative, Daya Hewavitarne, by the Secretary of State for India. They were carried to Sri Lanka where they received a regal reception and were put on public display for two years. Soon it came to light that the relics that had been handed over were actually plaster casts of the original caskets. In June 1948, India’s high commissioner to Britain wrote to the under-secretary of state of the Commonwealth Relations Office, asking for the return of the original caskets containing the sacred relics of the two saints. On October 18, 1948, Sir D. N. Mitra, the high commissioner’s legal advisor, received the original caskets on behalf of the Government of India. The relics were sent to Sri Lanka and from there to India to be presented to the Maha Bodhi Society.
The act of wresting the relics from Britain, Brekke argues, represented “a mix of religious piety and a strong desire for international recognition for the case of Buddhist revival in Asia” from the end of the 19th century. It also generated a struggle for power and authority in the interface between British archaeology and Buddhist religious revival—a struggle between British administrators, collectors and museum authorities, and Buddhist leaders.
Journey of the relics in the subcontinent
The Prime Minister of Ceylon handed over the relics to India’s high commissioner in Colombo on January 6, 1949 and within a week’s time they were received on the naval vessel HMIS Tir by the Governor of Bengal, K. N. Katju. The occasion was marked by an elaborate state ceremony including a procession, guard of honour, cultural performances and a 19-gun salute. The relics were installed on a temporary altar at the Government House in Calcutta and the prime minister of newly-independent India, Jawaharlal Nehru, unveiled them before a gathering of diplomats, monks and senior politicians.
The following day, a grand reception ceremony was held at the Calcutta Maidan during which Nehru handed over the sacred relics to Shyama Prasad Mookherjee, president of the Maha Bodhi Society. In an evocative speech, Nehru highlighted the message of peace and goodwill and ahimsa preached by the Buddha and Gandhi. Brekke argues that the relics of the two saints “were used by the governments in both Ceylon and India to legitimize state power.” Further, “Nehru used the Buddhist relics in his programme of secular, multi-religious nation-building from Independence in 1947.”
On the other hand, scholars like Philip C. Almond point out that Brekke misses the core issue of the involvement of the colonial state and the Archaelogical Survey of India (ASI) in its project of creating a ‘historical’ Buddha. This project was further legitimized through the archaeological excavations relating to the time of Mauryan ruler Ashoka who played an important part in the spread of Buddhism and is credited with the distribution of Buddha’s relics among 84,000 stupas. Ray argues that in the search for relics and statuary, Cunningham and the ASI “filled museums with collections of sculptures and coins, but left the stupas as heaps of rubble.”
After being displayed in Calcutta, the relics were taken on a tour of South and Southeast Asia– Ladakh, Orissa, Bihar, Assam, Sikkim, Tibet, Nepal, Burma and Cambodia. They were brought back to Calcutta on March 22, 1951 from where the relics were taken by a special train for a tour of several parts of the country. In November 1952, the relics were finally re-enshrined at a special vihara built at Sanchi for the purpose. Every year in November, a special fair is held at the spot where the relics are displayed. And, as the journey of the relics of Sariputta and Moggallana is relived, it offers yet another opportunity to understand the making of such stories against the backdrop of constantly evolving junctures.
Features
Regime change and the vacuum:Strategic lessons of Iraq and Libya
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.).
Features
‘Death at the Sign of the Rook’
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.
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.
Features
Safety, security and teamwork in aviation
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.
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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