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Falling leaves – an autobiographical memoir of a high achiever

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by LC Arulpragasam

(We begin excerpting today sections of an anthology of memoirs of LC Arulpragasam,
who at over 95-years of age is among the last surviving members of the old Ceylon Civil Service.
This introduction backgrounds his life and career)


I was born on November 5, 1927 to a Jaffna Tamil, Christian family. My father was Dr. A. R. Arulpragasam, a government medical doctor, and my mother was Mrs. Bertha Arulpragasam. I had three siblings: Dr. A.C. Arulpragasam, FRCS (Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons), Ms. Aruljothi (Bartlett) Arulpragasam (M.A. Educn) and my younger brother Jega Arulpragasam, a Computer Engineer. I was in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS) for 10 years. I then joined FAO (the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations) in 1962 and retired as Director of Agrarian Reform. I am currently the only surviving member of the family, at the age of 95 years.

I was blessed with ideal parents, a wonderful wife, excellent siblings, caring children and good friends the world over. I also have been blessed (no merit of mine) with more than my share of worldly gifts. I have tried to nurture these gifts to the best of my ability. I never learnt music but play the piano by ear and listen to a lot of classical music. I have been a pictorial photographer, winning awards at International Exhibitions, and have also designed a Ceylonese postage stamp. I became a passable painter in oils in my middle years and have, in fact, hand-painted the picture of fallen leaves on the cover of these memoirs. I have participated in a number of sports, including athletics (track), rugby, boxing, swimming, tennis, sailing, wind surfing and skiing.

I love the outdoor life, and especially being near water. I owned a canoe as a boy and have wandered down Lanka’s many waterways. I have swum off the beaches of all of Sri Lanka’s coasts and in many different oceans and seas. I have walked over 200 miles through the jungles of the Uva and Eastern Provinces, and also from Okanda in the Eastern Province through to the Yala Sanctuary in the Southern Province. In later years, I have been among the poppy growers in the jungles of the Burma/Thai border, as well as among the former head-hunters of Sarawak and Sabah. I have also been to the game reserves of Kenya, Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Namibia.

I married my classmate at the University, Ms. Lohini Saravanamuttu, whose parents came from the well-known Saravanamuttu and Chitty families. My wife unfortunately passed away in the year 2007, after 56 years of our married life. She was loving, generous, kind and forgiving. It was some time before I realized that I was married to the most decent human being that I have ever encountered in this world.

We have three children: Dr. Shyamala Abeyratne (PhD in Development Sociology), Dr. Jehan Arulpragasam (PhD in Economics) and Ms. Anjali Arulpragasam Ashley (Attorney-at-Law, Harvard University). They have all done well in their respective professions; but more importantly, they have turned out to be caring human beings, thanks to the example of their mother.

I went to Royal Prep and then to Royal College, Colombo: the latter from 1939-1946. I was fortunate to win many prestigious prizes at Royal, including the Dornhorst Memorial Prize for the Best All-Rounder and was also made Head Prefect of Royal College. I was also head of the Cadet Corps in Royal College, in command of 60 cadets, the highest rank a schoolboy could attain. In fact, my name figured the most number of times in the history of the school (for the greatest number of prestigious prizes won) engraved on the marble rolls of honour that adorn the walls of Royal College hall – this record has probably been beaten by now.

I was also active in sports, being Athletics Captain of Royal College and awarded College Colours in Athletics (Track) and Rugby, while also being a member of the House boxing, cricket and tennis teams. Having passed the SSC and HSC in the First Division (with ‘A’ in all four subjects at the HSC), I also passed first in the whole country in all three subjects offered at the University Entrance Examination (English, History and Political Science) and was offered the University Entrance Scholarship in respect of each of them.

I chose the scholarship in Political Science, although there was no degree in that subject at that time. It was a ‘sub’ of the degree in Economics (a subject that I hated back then); but I took the economics course for its political science ‘sub’ because of my passionate interest in the behavioral sciences. The degree course in Sociology began to be offered in the next year. I would have taken it, if it had been offered in my year.

My university career did not amount to much. The ‘problem’ was that I fell in love with my wife-to-be from the first day that we met at the University. I chased her unavailingly for the better part of two years. In my final year, we became an established couple, and I was able to return belatedly to my studies, passing first in my batch, but failing to get a first class. In the meantime, I pursued my sport interests and was awarded University Colours in Athletics (Track), Rugby and Boxing and was made Athletics Captain of the Ceylon University.

I was also the holder of two All-Ceylon Athletics (track) records in the 4 x 440 yards relay (with two different teams, in two different years) while still at the University: this was due to the merit of my relay team-mates rather than to me. I was also a strong swimmer, probably the best in Royal College and the University in my time; but unfortunately there were no Swimming Colours, either at Royal or in the University at that time. In fact, neither institution had a swimming pool in those days.

My career ambition was to be an academic and researcher. Although appointed as Assistant Lecture in Political Science for two years, there were no further openings in my field. Having also passed first in the batch in the Sociology degree, I was promised a post of Assistant Lecturer in Sociology by Professor Bryce Ryan, the Head of the Sociology Department. Unfortunately, since the post was not advertised that year or the next, I had no option but to sit for the CCS Exam, which was only three months away. I had just returned from a three-month trek in the jungles of Bintenne on a sociological survey of the Veddas. I was sick with severe dysentery contracted in the jungle. I had only three months to study for the CCS exam – and was only able to cover one-third of the syllabus. It was with great luck that I managed to pass first (in the whole country) in the CCS exam of that year.

The Sociology post in the University was subsequently advertised and I applied for it from the Civil Service – which was not done at that time, because the Ceylon Civil Service was considered more prestigious, with a higher salary. Only one post was advertised. The head of the Sociology Dept, Prof. Ryan insisted that I be appointed to that post; in fact, at an appointment meeting, he offered to resign if I was not appointed. He insisted that I would be the best candidate to lead the Sociology Department in the future.

It is worth noting that I was recommended for that one post by the Head of the Dept. of Sociology (Prof. Ryan) over Mr. S.J. Tambiah, who ultimately headed the Dept. of Social Anthropology at Harvard University in America. I turned down the appointment because Dr. Ralph Pieris was appointed to that one post. In the end, they created three posts (in order to get over Prof. Ryan’s objection that he would resign if I were not selected for the post advertised). Actually, this was part of a larger fight: whether the school of Sociology in Ceylon was going to be empirical research-oriented or not. I turned down the post on Prof. Ryan’s advice; he too resigned soon after.

In a curious manner, I was also later (in 1956) selected for a post as understudy to the Marketing Manager of Lever Bros. (Unilevers), on a starting salary that was six times higher than my salary in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS). I would have thus become Marketing Manager of the biggest commercial firm in Ceylon at the age of 29 years. This would have broken a glass ceiling of ‘British only’, as these top posts were reserved only for the British. I would have become the first Ceylonese to attain a Manager/Director level post in a big British company at that time. However, given my interests in economic and social development, I turned down that job offer too. I must also admit that I was shamed into turning down this offer because my father, who had always stressed service before self, who wrote to me deprecatingly, saying: “I cannot believe that any of my sons would stoop to filthy lucre like this”!

So, I decided to stick to the Ceylon Civil Service. It was a decision which I have never regretted because I was able to see and hear real people. I was fortunately able to navigate my own path within the CCS, taking only development-type jobs and specializing only in the agriculture sector. The latter was partly due to my own interests, but mainly because I felt that I could contribute most in that sector, since it provided a living to 70 percent of the national population at that time.

Ultimately in 1960/61, from my post in the Department of National Planning, I wrote a policy paper calling for a fundamental change in agricultural policy from our uneconomic policy of land development to a forward-looking policy of agricultural development. This was strongly opposed by both the Minister of Finance and Planning (Mr. Felix Bandaranaike) and the Hon. Prime Minister (Mrs. Sirimavo Bandaranaike), who believed fervently in past policy, which had been with us since pre-independence. I spent about three weeks persuading them to accept the (opposite) policy changes.

I argued for a policy of agricultural intensification, to take advantage of the HYVs (High Yield Varieties) that were becoming available at that time. I had in effect written a strategy for agricultural development in 1960, based on the coming green revolution and a policy to support it, given our smallholder agrarian system. The Prime Minister called a high-powered meeting of the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, Mr, C.P. de Silva, his Permanent Secretary and all his Departmental heads to discuss and agree upon a way forward. Mr. C.P. de Silva hotly contested each policy proposal – and even challenged the figures that I was using.

His argument collapsed when I showed that they were from his own Ministry’s reports. The meeting went on for two days, with Mr. C.P. de Silva shouting at me. In the end, he subsided, agreeing to all the policy changes that I was seeking. His departmental heads agreed with me – since I had worked with them on my policy proposals. He agreed even to publishing them all in what became the Short-Term Implementation Programme of 1961.

But in little over a week, the Minister, Mr. C.P. de Silva broke his agreement and threatened the Prime Minster that he would resign from her Government and cross the floor with 14 of his supporters, causing the fall of her Government. The Prime Minister had to give in. She called me to her office to thank me for my hard work and apologized to me because she had not been able to politically push my proposals through. As a result, the country missed the green revolution by 10 years!

I had fought the Minister of Finance and Planning, the Hon. Prime Minister and the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, all of whom had been strongly against my proposals. We had struggled to arrive at the agreed changes in agricultural policy. But now all my work had come to naught – for political reasons. I had taken the risk of venturing into the field of policy – because I had seen the possibility of Ceylon becoming self-sufficint in rice. May be, I presumed too much!

Now I had nowhere to go – except to purely administrative jobs. So, I decided to apply for development jobs abroad. However, being persuaded by the Prime Minister, I agreed to come back to Sri Lanka when and if she was in a position to carry out the policies we had agreed upon. Fortunately for me and my children, she was never able to fulfill her side of the agreement, because her government was voted out of office

I was appointed to the UNDP, New York, as Programme Officer, and in quick succession to a post with the FAO. Choosing the FAO job because of my interest in agricultural policy, I resigned from the CCS in 1962.

In my FAO capacity, I managed to set up the Agrarian Reform and Training Institute (now renamed the Kobbekaduwa Institute) in Ceylon, with FAO assistance. Later in Rome in 1970, I was appointed Senior Economist for Asia and the Far East in the Economic Analysis Division. In 1976, I was appointed Chief of the Land Tenure and Agrarian Reform Service at the Director level, being the youngest to be appointed to that level at that time. However, my career in FAO became blocked thereafter for various political reasons.

FAO at that time was highly compartmentalized into specialized technical fields, while the organization itself was becoming more bureaucratic, autocratic and politicized. Although the technical directors were highly qualified, they had PhDs from countries that had the opposite set of factor proportions to the small farmers of the developing world. They were accustomed to having plenty of land and access to capital, thus choosing strategies that best utilized these resources. But these are what around 70 percent of the farmers of the developing world did not have.

Hence, by a strange quirk of history, the most qualified FAO experts were the least qualified to help the farmers of the developing world. They were trained in countries which had the opposite factor proportions to those that the developing countries had. They were now called upon to cater to small farmers with little land, no capital, but with surplus labour.

Although completely boxed-in within the field of agrarian reform, my knowledge of agricultural problems and policies was much broader and deeper, due especially to my field work and agricultural planning experience in Sri Lanka. I felt strongly, for example, that FAO had no technologies nor improved farming systems for small and subsistence farmers, who make up some 70 percent of all farmers in the developing world. Fed up and frustrated, I simply handed in my resignation to FAO in 1987- two years before my time – and just walked away.

This represented for me, the greatest failure in my life, since with this impetuous decision, I had lost my only chance to change the policies of the international organizations relating to the farmers of the developing world. As in Sri Lanka, where I took on the Minister of Agriculture, the Minister of Finance and Planning and the Prime Minister herself, I should have taken on the Director-General of FAO. I had written a policy paper arguing that FAO’s policy towards the farmers of the developing countries was all wrong. But instead of confronting the Director-General with it, I chickened out (on the advice of the Director du Cabinet). I resigned from FAO in ‘surrender’ mode, afraid of the Director-General of FAO – to my lasting regret.

I also regret very much that I did not go to some other development institute to develop my own ideas about small farm development and publish them. I chickened out of this too, because I would have had to go to another country (England or Norway – where there were research institutes) and set up house alone there. Because of this rash decision to resign from FAO without confronting the Director-General, I went into a deep (mental) depression – because I had failed in my duty. I buried myself in international consulting. I found that I was much in demand by IFAD, which was based in Rome.

My main benefit from FAO was that we spent 30 years in Rome, giving our children a chance of growing up in Italy, with the advantage of a rich cultural life and fluency in three or four European languages. I also had a piece of land by a beautiful lake, where I planted vines and fruit trees, which bore abundantly. We continued to live in Rome for 10 years after I resigned from FAO, during which time I accepted international consultancies for about five months each year, working from home where feasible. I worked in Asia too, where I was able to visit my mother in Sri Lanka. In fact, I was in Sri Lanka when she passed away, following her fervent wish.

In 1995 my wife and I moved from Rome to Washington D.C., to be close to our children. But one by one, our children took off for international postings outside the USA. Hence, when my wife passed away in 2007, I had no family in Sri Lanka in my old age. So I decided to take up residence with my eldest daughter, in the Philippines.

Unlike other expatriates, my work has brought me regularly to Sri Lanka for nearly 40 years, from 1962 to 2000. This has enabled me to work with different governments over the years, also enabling me to keep in close touch with my friends. I continue these contacts by visiting Sri Lanka for about two months every year. Now that I have reached the age of 95 years, I have had to discontinue my visits to Sri Lanka. I now miss the country of my birth so much!



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Features

The Paradox of Coercion: US strategy and the global re-emergence of Iran

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Iranians vowing resistance at a mass funeral of the victims of US-Israeli airstrikes

(A sequel to the two-part article, War with Iran and unravelling of the global order, published in The Island on April 8 and 9.)

The unfolding developments in the US-Israeli coordinated military attack against Iran reveal a striking paradox at contemporary geopolitics: efforts to weaken a state through coercion may, under certain conditions, contribute to its structural elevation within the international system. What appears as short-term tactical success can generate long-term strategic consequences that are neither anticipated nor easily reversible. In this context, the policies associated with Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, marked by unilateralism and the willingness to use force, risk producing precisely such an unintended outcome. Rather than marginalising Iran, their actions may be accelerating its re-emergence, not merely as a regional actor in the Middle East, but as a consequential player in the global geopolitics and the wider architecture of international supply chains of energy economy.

Iran not merely a state

Iran is not merely a state, but a civilisation with a distinctive political trajectory. At the heart of the present transformation lies its asymmetric strategy, rooted in the strategic exploitation of geography. Few states possess the capacity to shape the global system through geography alone. Iran’s proximity to the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow maritime passage through which a substantial share of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas flows, endows it with a latent structural power that transcends conventional measures of national capability.

In periods of stability, this position translates into economic opportunity; in moments of crisis, it becomes a lever of systemic disruption. Recent tensions have demonstrated that even limited instability in this corridor can reverberate across global markets, triggering sharp increases in energy prices, disrupting supply chains, and amplifying inflationary pressures worldwide. Should Iran consolidate its capacity to influence or control this chokepoint, whether through military deterrence, asymmetric instruments, or diplomatic maneuvering, it would shift from being a participant in global energy markets to a pivotal arbiter of their functioning.

Energy-embedded global economy

The contemporary global economy is not merely energy-dependent; it is deeply energy-embedded. Hydrocarbons underpin not only transportation and electricity generation but also the production of petrochemicals, fertilisers, and a wide range of industrial inputs essential to modern manufacturing and food systems. Disruptions linked to Iran have already illustrated how shocks in the energy sector cascade through interconnected supply chains, affecting everything from agricultural output to high-technology industries. In this sense, Iran’s leverage is no longer confined to the traditional realm of resource geopolitics. It increasingly operates within a networked global system in which control over a single critical node can generate disproportionate influence across multiple sectors. This form of power, diffuse, indirect, and systemic, marks a departure from the more linear dynamics of twentieth-century oil politics.

The implications of such a shift are profound for the structure of the international order. For decades, the global system has been underpinned by a set of institutions, norms, and economic arrangements often described as the so-called liberal international order. Sanctions, financial controls, and diplomatic isolation have been key instruments through which dominant powers have sought to discipline states that challenge this order. However, Iran’s prolonged exposure to sanctions has compelled it to develop adaptive strategies: alternative trade networks, informal financial channels, and closer ties with non-Western partners. A crisis-induced re-entry into global markets would therefore not signify reintegration into the existing order, but rather the expansion of parallel systems that operate alongside, and sometimes in opposition to, it. In this context, Iran’s rise would contribute to the gradual fragmentation of the global economy, accelerating trends toward decoupling, regionalization, and the erosion of established institutional authority.

Decline of global order based on US hegemony

This process of fragmentation is closely linked to declining global order based on U.S. hegemony. A more globally consequential Iran would inevitably become a focal point in the strategic player in emerging multipolar world. For China, whose economic growth remains heavily dependent on secure energy supplies, deeper engagement with Iran would serve both economic and geopolitical objectives, reinforcing its presence in the broader Middle East and insulating it from vulnerabilities associated with maritime chokepoints. Russia, already positioned as a major energy exporter and a challenger to Western dominance, may find in Iran a complementary partner in reshaping global energy markets and contesting sanctions regimes. Meanwhile, countries across the Global South, including major importers such as India, would face a more complex strategic environment, characterized by heightened exposure to supply disruptions and increased pressure to navigate between competing power centers. In this emerging landscape, Iran would function less as an isolated actor and more as a pivotal node within a reconfigured network of global alignments.

Dynamics enhancing Iran’s strategic importance

Paradoxically, the very dynamics that enhance Iran’s strategic importance may also accelerate efforts to reduce dependence on the conditions that enable its influence. Recurrent energy shocks tend to catalyze policy responses aimed at diversification and resilience. States are likely to expand strategic reserves, invest in alternative supply routes, and accelerate transitions toward renewable energy and nuclear power. Over the longer term, such measures could diminish the centrality of fossil fuel chokepoints, thereby constraining Iran’s leverage. However, this transition will be uneven and contested. Advanced economies may possess the resources to adapt more rapidly, while developing countries remain structurally dependent on affordable hydrocarbons. In the interim, the global system may experience a prolonged period in which dependence on Iranian-linked energy flows coexists with attempts to transcend it—a duality that adds further complexity to the evolving geopolitical landscape.

Beyond material considerations, Iran’s potential re-emergence also signals a deeper transformation of the existing global order. Traditional metrics—military strength, economic size, technological capacity—remain somewhat important, but they are increasingly complemented by the ability to influence critical nodes within global networks. The capacity to disrupt, delay, or redirect flows of energy, goods, and capital can generate strategic effects that rival, or even surpass, those achieved through direct military confrontation. In this sense, Iran exemplifies a broader shift from territorial geopolitics to what might be termed network geopolitics. Control over chokepoints, supply chains, and infrastructural linkages become a central determinant of influence, enabling states with relatively limited ‘conventional’ capabilities to exert outsized impact on the international system.

Iran’s trajectory may be understood as a transition through several distinct phases: from a regional challenger seeking to assert influence within the Middle East, to a strategic disruptor capable of unsettling global markets, and ultimately to a systemic actor whose decisions carry worldwide consequences. This evolution is neither inevitable nor linear; it depends on a complex interplay of domestic resilience, external pressures, and the responses of other global actors. Nevertheless, the possibility itself underscores the unintended consequences of policies that prioritize short-term coercion over long-term strategic foresight.

Transition shaped by paradoxes

In historical perspective, moments of systemic transition are often shaped by such paradoxes. Actions taken to preserve an existing order can, under certain conditions, accelerate its transformation. The current crisis involving Iran may represent one such moment. By elevating the strategic significance of energy chokepoints, exposing the vulnerabilities of interconnected supply chains, and encouraging the development of alternative economic networks, it contributes to a broader reconfiguration of global power. In this emerging context, Iran’s re-emergence as a global actor would not simply reflect its own capabilities or ambitions; it would also embody the structural shifts reshaping the international system itself. What began as an effort to constrain Iran may ultimately facilitate its transformation into a decisive player in the global energy economy and supply chain architecture. The implications of this shift extend far beyond the Middle East, touching upon the stability of markets, the cohesion of international institutions, and the evolving nature of power in the twenty-first century.

The war with Iran is best understood not as a discrete regional conflict, but as a structural moment in the transformation of the international system. It reveals a growing disjuncture between the continued reliance on coercive statecraft and the realities of an interdependent global order in which power increasingly derives from control over critical economic and infrastructural nodes. Rather than achieving strategic containment, the conflict has underscored the capacity of a relatively constrained actor to generate systemic effects through geoeconomic leverage. In doing so, it highlights a broader shift from military-centric conceptions of power toward forms of influence embedded in networks of energy, trade, and supply chains.

This is not merely a redistribution of power, but a redefinition of how power operates. At the systemic level, the war accelerates the erosion of the post-Cold War order, reinforcing tendencies toward fragmentation, parallel economic arrangements, and multipolar competition. Iran’s potential re-emergence as a global actor should therefore be seen less as an isolated outcome than as a manifestation of these deeper structural changes. In this sense, the strategic significance of the war lies in its unintended consequences: it exposes the limits of coercive hegemony while simultaneously amplifying the importance of those actors positioned to exploit the vulnerabilities of an interconnected world.

by Gamini Keerawella ✍️

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The dawn of smart help for little ones

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How Artificial Intelligence is breaking barriers in Autism Diagnosis and Care

For any parent, the early years are a most valuable countdown of “firsts” of his or her precious child: the first step, the first clear word, the first beautiful smile, and quite a few other firsts as well. Yet for all that, for some families, that joy is overshadowed by a growing, quiet, but disturbing intuition that something is even a little bit different. Perhaps a child is not responding to his or her name, or the little one seems to be more interested in the spinning wheels of a toy than a game of peek-a-boo, or even avoids normal social responses.

In many countries, especially in the developing world, the road from that first “gut feeling” that there is something wrong, to a formal diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is often a long and exhausting journey. While doctors can often identify autism in children as young as 12 to 18 months, the average age of diagnosis in our communities still hovers around four years. In these critical years, when a child’s brain is most like a machine ready to learn and adapt, time is of the essence and is the most valuable resource a family has.

Today, a new “algorithmic dawn” is offering a shortcut to really cut that delay. Artificial Intelligence (AI), the very same smart technology that helps us navigate traffic, suggest a new song, or help people with ChatGPT, is moving out of the lab and into the children’s nursery. By acting as a digital “magnifying glass”, specifically designed AI tools can now spot subtle patterns in a child’s gaze, some little quirks in the rhythm of their babbling, or the way they move, often much faster than the human eye can. Then the machine can issue a warning signal and indicate that further action and a proper evaluation are necessary. This is most certainly not about replacing the brain, the heart and the expertise of a paediatrician; it is about providing “Smart Help” that can be accessed from a smartphone in a family living room. For millions of “little ones on the spectrum”, most notably in the developing world, this technology is turning a journey once defined by waiting, uncertainty and even tears, into one of proactive care and even brighter horizons. The time gained is most certainly a very valuable window of opportunity.

What is the “Spectrum,” and Why Does Time Matter?

Autism is described as a “spectrum” because it affects many children somewhat differently and to varying degrees. Some children may have advanced technical skills but struggle to hold a conversation; others may be non-verbal or have intense sensory sensitivities. It can be very mild or very severe, and perhaps everywhere in between as well.

The common thread is that the brain develops differently in these affected children. This is why Early Intervention is the gold-standard goal. During the toddler years, a child’s brain is incredibly “plastic”, meaning that it is a highly adaptable and ready to learn type of organ. Starting therapy and management strategies during this valuable period of opportunity can fundamentally change a child’s future life path.

The problem, to a certain extent, is that traditional diagnosis of ASD is a slow, manual process. It requires intensively trained experts to watch a child play for hours and fill out complex checklists. In many countries, including Sri Lanka, where there is a massive shortage of these highly qualified specialists, the waiting list for a consultation alone can take months or even years. These doyens are rather thin on the ground and even when available, are heavily overworked.

Enter the AI Revolution: Seeing the Unseen

AI certainly does NOT replace doctors, but it acts like a high-powered magnifying glass. By using “Machine Learning”, computers can analyse massive amounts of data to find tiny patterns that the human eye might miss. Here is how it is changing the game:

1. Tracking Gaze and Smiles

One of the earliest signs of autism is how a child looks at the world. AI “Computer Vision” can analyse a simple video of a child playing. It can track exactly where the child is looking. Does the child look at a person’s eyes when they speak, or are they drawn to the spinning wheels of a toy in the corner? AI can quantify these “social attention” patterns in seconds and add them to a cache of things that ring warning bells.

2. The Sound of a Voice

Did you know that the “music” of a child’s speech can hold clues? AI can listen to the pitch and rhythm (called prosody) of a child’s voice. Children on the spectrum sometimes have a “flat” or monotonic way of speaking. AI algorithms can measure these vocal biomarkers with incredible precision, helping to flag concerns long before a child is old enough for a full conversation.

3. Movement and Play

Repetitive behaviour, like hand-flapping or rocking, are core traits of ASD. Sensors in smartphones or simple video analysis can now categorise these movements objectively. Instead of a parent trying to describe how often a behaviour happens, the application or ‘app’ provides a clear, data-driven report for the doctor.

Innovation at Home: India’s Digital Solutions

The most exciting part of this technology is that it does not require a million-dollar lab. In India, where smartphone use is booming, several “homegrown” apps are bringing specialist-level screening to rural and urban homes alike.

Apps like CogniAble, which give parents a step-by-step intervention plan based on the child’s specific needs, or START, a tablet-based tool used by local health workers in areas like Delhi slums to spot risks via simple games, or LEEZA.APP, which offers free AI screening to remove the “money barrier” that keeps many families from seeking help, or AutismBASICS, which provides thousands of activities and a milestone tracker to help parents manage daily therapy at home, are just a few of the programs in use at present. These tools are “democratising” healthcare. A mother in a remote village with a basic smartphone can now access the same level of screening logic that was once only available in a major city hospital.

Beyond the Diagnosis: A Robot Tutor?

The role of AI does not stop once a diagnosis is made. It is also becoming a tireless “co-therapist.”

For many children with autism, the human world can be unpredictable and overwhelming. AI-powered “Social Robots” or interactive apps provide a safe, predictable environment. These “Robo-Therapists” do not get tired, they do not get frustrated, and they can repeat a social lesson even 100 times until the child feels comfortable.

Furthermore, for children who are nonverbal, AI-powered communication apps serve as a “voice”. These apps use smart technology to predict what a child wants to say, allowing and facilitating them to express their needs and feelings to their parents, even for the very first time.

The Human Element: Proceed with Care

As bright as this dawn is, experts warn that we must move forward carefully and most intelligently.

= Privacy: Because these apps collect sensitive videos and data about children, keeping that information secure is a top priority.

= Cultural Differences: An AI trained on children in the US or Europe might not perfectly understand a child in Sri Lanka. We need “diverse local data” to ensure the algorithms understand our local languages, gestures, and social norms. Many of these programs need to be home-grown or baked at home in Sri Lanka.

= The Human Touch: Most importantly, we need to always remember that AI is a tool, not a replacement. A computer can spot a pattern, but it cannot give a hug, provide emotional support to a struggling parent, or celebrate a breakthrough with the same joy as a human therapist.

A Brighter Future

We are moving toward a world where “waiting and seeing” is no longer, and quite definitely, not the only option for parents. By combining the heart of a parent and the expertise of a doctor with the speed of an algorithm, we can ensure that no child is left behind because of where they live or how much money they have.

The “Algorithmic Dawn” is not just about code and data. It is about giving every child the best possible start in life. It is the main principle on which Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine, all those centuries ago, based all his postulations on how physicians should work.

 The “Red Flag” Checklist: 18 to 24 Months

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends screening all children at 18 and 24 months. If you notice several of these signs, it is time to use an AI screening app or consult your paediatrician.

Communication and Social Cues

= The Name Test: Does your child consistently fail to turn around or look at you when you call his or her name?

= The Pointing Test: By 18 months, most toddlers point at things they want (like a biscuit) or things they find interesting (like a dog). Is your child using your hand as a “tool” to get things instead of pointing?

= The Eye Contact Test: Does your child avoid looking at your face during social interactions or during play or when being fed?

= The Shared Smile: Does your child rarely smile back when you smile at him or her?

Behaviour and Play

= The Toy Test: Does your child play with toys in “unusual” ways? (e.g., instead of rolling a car, they spend 20 minutes just spinning one wheel or lining them up in a perfect, rigid line).

= The Routine Rule: Do they have an extreme “meltdown” over tiny changes, like taking a different route to the park or using a different coloured cup?

= Repetitive Motions: Do you notice frequent hand-flapping, rocking, or spinning in circles, especially when they are excited or upset?

The “Golden Rule” of Regression

Finally, an extremely important rule for concerned parents to follow.

If your little one had words (like “Mama” or “Dada” or “Amma” or “Thaththa” or Thaii/Amma or Appa) or social skills (like waving “Bye-Bye”) and a beautiful social smile etc, and then SUDDENLY STOPS USING THEM, that could be a most significant red flag. In such situations, the standard advice would be: Please consult a doctor immediately.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera

MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics),
MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK),
FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.

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Governance, growth and our regional moment:Why Sri Lanka must choose wisely

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The recent disclosure of a substantial internal fraud at National Development Bank has understandably unsettled the financial community. What began as a relatively contained incident has since been revised upwards, revealing a scheme that operated over an extended period within a specific operational area. To their credit, both the bank and the Central Bank of Sri Lanka responded with speed. Staff were suspended, arrests followed, an independent forensic review was commissioned, and clear assurances were given that customer funds remained secure. The institution’s capital and liquidity positions continue to meet regulatory requirements, and day to day operations have not been disrupted.

Yet it would be a mistake to view this as an isolated operational error at a single respected institution. When a fraud of this magnitude, equivalent to more than a year’s profit for the bank, emerges within one of our most established listed companies, the implications extend well beyond the banking sector. It prompts a necessary and uncomfortable question. Are we truly strengthening the foundations of our economy so that every part of our society can operate with the integrity and confidence that sustainable progress demands?

Banking sits at the heart of any modern economy. It channels savings into investment, supports enterprise, and underpins household security. When even a leading institution reveals weaknesses in internal controls, risk oversight or governance culture, the signal to international observers is difficult to ignore. It suggests that the financial system upon which growth depends may not yet possess the resilience we aspire to project. If institutions that have undergone significant reform since 2022 can still experience such failures, what assurance can investors reasonably expect in other sectors of our economy? At a time when Sri Lanka needs to demonstrate strength and reliability, perceptions of fragility carry a heavy cost.

This matters profoundly because a genuine window of opportunity is now opening. Geopolitical shifts in the Middle East and beyond are prompting global investors and entrepreneurs to seek stable, well governed destinations for capital and talent. Sri Lanka possesses distinct advantages. Our geographical position offers natural connectivity. We have invested in critical infrastructure, including two major ports, international airports and strategic energy reserves. In an era where businesses prioritise rule of law, institutional predictability and sound fundamentals, our potential alignment with these criteria is significant. However, high profile governance failures at this precise moment risk undermining that narrative before it can gain meaningful traction.

The stakes are equally significant for initiatives such as the Port City Colombo. With substantial projects now approved, foreign investment commitments secured and early construction underway, this endeavour is moving from concept to delivery. Yet persistent concerns about governance standards in our established companies can act as a drag on investor sentiment. The confidence required to attract high value international tenants and long- term capital depends not only on physical infrastructure but on the perceived strength of our institutions and the consistency of our regulatory environment.

For decades, Sri Lanka has experienced growth averaging around four to five per cent per year. While this is not insignificant, it falls short of our potential, particularly when measured against the progress of our regional neighbours. India, for example, has sustained growth at roughly twice our rate for more than twenty years, driven by consistent policy execution and strengthening institutional credibility. Our own trajectory has been held back not by a lack of ideas or ambition, but by recurring shortcomings in how our major institutions are governed and held to account. The result is a cycle of unrealised potential, where promising openings are not fully converted into lasting advancement.

The current situation, though challenging, can serve as a catalyst for meaningful change. Boards of listed companies must move beyond procedural compliance to foster a genuine culture of ethical leadership, proactive risk management and zero tolerance for control failures. Regulators have an opportunity to undertake a comprehensive review of fraud prevention frameworks, whistle-blower protections and monitoring standards across the financial sector, with lessons applied to other key industries. Greater transparency in reporting material incidents and more timely forensic follow through will help rebuild trust with both domestic and international stakeholders.

Crucially, the government must tread carefully as it responds. Short term fixes or reactive measures may address immediate concerns but will not deliver the enduring stability that investors seek. What is required is a coherent long-term strategy that balances the imperative for rapid economic development with the equally vital need to conserve our natural environment and strengthen regional cooperation. Our neighbours in South Asia and Southeast Asia offer not only markets for trade and investment but also partners in shared challenges such as climate resilience, sustainable infrastructure and digital connectivity. By deepening these relationships through practical collaboration, Sri Lanka can position itself as a reliable and forward-looking partner in a dynamic region.

Sri Lanka stands at a pivotal moment. Global realignments are creating rare opportunities for capital inflows, technology transfer and new economic partnerships. Yet these opportunities will flow most readily to nations that demonstrate they can protect investor interests, uphold the rule of law and operate with predictability and transparency. If we allow governance weaknesses in our flagship institutions to persist, we risk once again watching potential pass us by.

This is a defining moment, and our response must be equally purposeful. We can treat the recent events as an unfortunate but isolated incident and return to established patterns. Or we can seize this moment as a timely reminder to strengthen every pillar of our economy, with particular attention to environmental stewardship and regional collaboration. Only by getting our house in order, with patience, consistency and a clear-eyed commitment to long term goals, can we convert today’s challenges into tomorrow’s competitive advantage. The path to sustained prosperity demands nothing less.

by Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com

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