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“Let My Country Awake …”

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Where the mind is without fear, and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

– Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali, 35

As Sri Lanka marks seventy-seven years of independence, this moment demands more than flags, ceremonies, or familiar slogans. It demands memory, honesty, and moral courage. Once spoken of with affection and hope as Mother Lanka, the nation today increasingly resembles a wounded child—carried again and again across fragile hanging bridges, suspended between survival and collapse. This image is not new to our cultural consciousness. Long before today’s crises, Sri Lankans encountered it through literature and radio, most memorably in Henry Jayasena’s Hunuwataye Kathawa (1967), the Sinhala radio drama adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle, written during World War II (WWII), broadcast by Radio Ceylon and later staged across the island. Heard in village homes and city neighborhoods, the story quietly shaped a moral imagination we now seem to have forgotten.

In Hunuwataye Kathawa, a child is placed at the center of a chalk circle, claimed by two women. One is Natella, the biological mother who abandons the child during a moment of danger and later returns—not out of love, but driven by entitlement, inheritance, and power. The other is Grusha, a poor servant who risks everything to protect the child, feeding her, carrying her across perilous terrain, and choosing care over comfort. When ordered by the judge to pull the child out of the circle, Grusha refuses. She would rather let go than injure the child. Justice, the story teaches, belongs not to those who claim ownership most loudly, but to those who practice responsibility and restraint. For generations of Sri Lankans, this lesson entered the heart not through policy or economics, but through art.

Beneath Sri Lanka’s recurring failures lies a deeper wound: collective forgetfulness. It is indeed incredible how a nation colonised by foreign powers for over four centuries, battered by people’s insurrections and national struggles ever since, divided by a 30-year-long ethnic war, shaken by a Tsunami, inflamed by Easter Bombings 2019, hit by Covid-19 shutdown, and bankrupt by economic crisis, just to mention a few before the devastating Cyclone Ditwah that rocked the entire nation not many weeks ago, could be so forgetful of its tragedies. This insight was articulated with striking clarity by Dr. Arvind Subramanian, the former Chief Economic Advisor to the Government of India, speaking at an event organised by The Examiner in Colombo on Jan 21, 2026. Subramanian observed the nation’s troubling tendency to forget its own history—its tragedies, hard-earned lessons, and warnings—and to embrace uncritically whatever is new in a pattern-line manner. This historical amnesia traps Sri Lanka in vicious cycles of debt, dependency, and unscientific thinking. When memory fails, every crisis feels unprecedented; when learning fails, every mistake is repeated.

Consequently, after seventy-eight years of independence from the last colonial rule, Sri Lanka still stands inside that chalk circle. Mother Lanka, once admired for free education, public health, and social mobility, has over the decades been reduced to a wounded child carried across unstable political, economic, and environmental bridges. Different governments, armed with different ideologies and promises, have taken turns holding her. Some carried her carefully; others dropped her midway; still others claimed her loudly while burdening her with unsustainable debt, weakened institutions, superstitious demeanors, and short-term fixes that mortgaged the future. This mother-made-child nation was perpetually oscillating between collapse and recovery. Yet instead of healing her wounds, with every passing Independence Day, we repeatedly celebrated and argued over who owned her.

This long post-independence journey reveals two recurring patterns. There have been many Natella-like approaches—entitlement without responsibility, nationalism without sacrifice, populism without prudence. These abandon the child in moments of crisis, only to return when power, contracts, or prestige are at stake. Alongside them, however, there have also been Grusha-like moments—imperfect, painful, often unpopular, yet rooted in reform, discipline, and care. These moments prioritise institutions over personalities, education over spectacle, sustainability over extraction, science over superstitions, and responsibility over applause. They are the moments that keep the child alive. The thorough cleaning that the whole nation recently experienced with Cyclone Ditwah also reminds us, among many other lessons, about the power and the need of these Grusha-like moments. It reminds us that the real celebration of freedom requires not slogans but breaking free from Natella-like approaches and, after the immersion that she just experienced, that it is only possible in and through at least three kinds of voluntary and ongoing immersions (3P Immersions)—disciplines that reshape not only policy but also personal and national character—Immersion of Poverty, Immersion of Plurality, and Immersion of Prudence.

The immersion of poverty, both spiritual and material, is deeply rooted in Buddhist teaching of tanhaā and āśā—the restless craving for more than one truly needs or can sustain. It is that which enables us to be constantly mindful of ourselves, not only who we really were, who we actually are, and what we continue to become, but also what we are really in need of. Nationally speaking, it involves acknowledging the country’s geopolitical placement, the strengths of its proud history and civilisation, and the limitations of its repeated struggles and political dismay. While material realism, when faced honestly, disciplines excess and teaches gratitude for what we already have, the immersion in poverty should remind us about how greed can lead to corruption and about the illusion that fulfillment lies in accumulation. A nation that does not discern its desires with its own resources and real capacity—human, historical, cultural, and environmental—will always mortgage its future to satisfy temporary cravings. We must ask ourselves honestly: how different are we today from the colonial era, when our decisions were shaped by external powers, if we remain bound by foreign debts, external models, and a forgetting of our own identity?

The immersion of plurality should not be understood as a slogan, but as a lived ethic. Sri Lanka’s diversity of language, religion, culture, geography, and memory is not the problem; it is the unfinished promise. Sinhala and Tamil, Muslim and Burgher, Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, and Muslim, village and city, coast and hill—all belong to the child in the chalk circle. While Natella-like politics weaponise difference and division, pulling the child apart to claim possession, Grusha-like care holds plurality together, recognising that it is the unity in diversity that sustains, protects, and frees the child, carrying it safely home. Freedom figures like Siddi Lebbe, Veera Puran Appu, Sir Ponnambalam Ramanathan, Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam, C. W. W. Kannangara, T. B. Jayah, Anagarika Dharmapala, and D. S. Senanayake emerged from different faiths, languages, and regions, yet shared a common ethic: the country mattered more than self, party, or community. They were not perfect, but they were Grusha-like—unwilling to pull the child apart to prove ownership, willing instead to carry her patiently across danger.

Grusha-like care, therefore, holds plurality together, recognizing that no single group can carry the country alone. Rather, it is plurality which is the ground of freedom from coercion, selective justice, and hostage-taking—whether by professions, ideologies, or institutions that prioritize self-interest over the common good. It also demands freedom from resistance to positive change, especially when that resistance is motivated by private gain rather than the common welfare. A plural society asks: Does this serve the nation, or merely my group, my party, my advantage?

The immersion in prudence is perhaps the rarest and most neglected virtue. Prudence calls us to move from myth to science, from avidyā to vidyā, from superstition to evidence. Recent floods and landslides were not merely natural disasters; they were moral warnings. Thy painfully revealed what happens when desire overrides restraint, when planning ignores science, when land is abused, when short-term gain overrides long-term responsibility, and when development forgets sustainability. Freedom from disaster is inseparable from freedom from ignorance. Prudence teaches us to listen actively, speak intentionally, plan with evidence, build with environmental awareness, and govern with foresight. Prudence is not only about grand reforms; it is also very much about our everyday civic behaviour, such as how we treat Mother Earth and shared spaces.

For example, freedom from spitting on the ground, freedom from littering public places, and freedom from leaving behind what we refuse to clean or return. These are not small matters; they are indicators of whether people see the nation as a common home or as a place to be used and discarded. These are only a handful of many instances where we need to hear what JFK (John F. Kennedy) asked the Americans in 1961: “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country”. The WWII-devastated Japan’s development is not built merely on technology, but on discipline, as systems like 5S cultivate order, responsibility, and respect for shared space. Clean Sri Lanka and the proposed Education Reforms 2026 can become transformative moments—but only if truth replaces pretense, cooperation replaces cynicism, and ownership replaces vengeful rhetoric. Prudence allows a nation to appreciate its ownness—its history, institutions, cultural resources, and the agendas for the common good—without rejecting learning from the world. Without prudence, novelty becomes addiction, and reform becomes fashion.

Before the history repeats itself for another 77 years, either as a series of tragedy or comedy, it is important, therefore, to recognise that freedom from debt, disaster, and dependency (national or personal) is impossible without all three types of immersions working together—poverty of desire, plurality of belonging, and prudence of action. Initiatives such as education reform and Clean Sri Lanka offer genuine opportunities, but only if we cooperate, think long-term, and resist turning reform into another slogan. This raises an uncomfortable question: Do we truly want to be free? Or are we content to remain in the same rut, so long as ignorance is preserved, education is left unreformed, and distractions are supplied by a handful of greedy politicians—their vengeful rhetoric, their allies, lopsided media, and mushrooming content creators—while the powerful continue to benefit from it all? Freedom is demanding. It asks for memory, restraint, cooperation, and courage. Dependency, by contrast, is easy.

Therefore, the question before us is not who shouts the loudest, who claims patriotism most aggressively, or who promises instant miracles. It is who remembers, who renounces, who embraces plurality, and who acts with prudence as her stewards and not owners. When are we going to immerse ourselves in these three immersions and be free? After Rabindranath Tagore’s poem, W. D. Amaradeva once sang, “Patu adahasnam paurinen lokaya kabaliwalata nobedi, jnanaya iwahal we… Ehew nidahase swarga rajyataṭ, mage dæśaya avadi karanu mena, Piyanani…“— Where knowledge keeps the world from being divided by the walls of narrow thoughts… Into that heaven of freedom, Father, let my country awake. How many poems, how many Amaradevas, how many freedom speeches, how many religious sermons, how many inundations, and how many struggles must come and go before we awaken to that truth and let Mother Lanka be out of that vicious pattern or circle of collapse and recovery—whole, healed, and free?

By Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J.
Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, CA, USA
Rashmi.Fernando@lmu.edu | https://orcid.org/0009-0006-3310-721X



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Opinion

Capt. Dinham Suhood flies West

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A few days ago, we heard the sad news of the passing on of Capt. Dinham Suhood. Born in 1929, he was the last surviving Air Ceylon Captain from the ‘old guard’.

He studied at St Joseph’s College, Colombo 10. He had his flying training in 1949 in Sydney, Australia and then joined Air Ceylon in late 1957. There he flew the DC3 (Dakota), HS748 (Avro), Nord 262 and the HS 121 (Trident).

I remember how he lent his large collection of ‘Airfix’ plastic aircraft models built to scale at S. Thomas’ College, exhibitions. That really inspired us schoolboys.

In 1971 he flew for a Singaporean Millionaire, a BAC One-Eleven and then later joined Air Siam where he flew Boeing B707 and the B747 before retiring and migrating to Australia in 1975.

Some of my captains had flown with him as First Officers. He was reputed to have been a true professional and always helpful to his colleagues.

He was an accomplished pianist and good dancer.

He passed on a few days short of his 97th birthday, after a brief illness.

May his soul rest in peace!

To fly west my friend is a test we must all take for a final check

Capt. Gihan A Fernando

RCyAF/ SLAF, Air Ceylon, Air Lanka, Singapore Airlines, SriLankan Airlines

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Opinion

Global warming here to stay

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The cause of global warming, they claim, is due to ever increasing levels of CO2. This is a by-product of burning fossil fuels like oil and gas, and of course coal. Environmentalists and other ‘green’ activists are worried about rising world atmospheric levels of CO2.  Now they want to stop the whole world from burning fossil fuels, especially people who use cars powered by petrol and diesel oil, because burning petrol and oil are a major source of CO2 pollution. They are bringing forward the fateful day when oil and gas are scarce and can no longer be found and we have no choice but to travel by electricity-driven cars – or go by foot.  They say we must save energy now, by walking and save the planet’s atmosphere.

THE DEMON COAL

But it is coal, above all, that is hated most by the ‘green’ lobby. It is coal that is first on their list for targeting above all the other fossil fuels. The eminently logical reason is that coal is the dirtiest polluter of all. In addition to adding CO2 to the atmosphere, it pollutes the air we breathe with fine particles of ash and poisonous chemicals which also make us ill. And some claim that coal-fired power stations produce more harmful radiation than an atomic reactor.

STOP THE COAL!

Halting the use of coal for generating electricity is a priority for them. It is an action high on the Green party list.

However, no-one talks of what we can use to fill the energy gap left by coal. Some experts publicly claim that unfortunately, energy from wind or solar panels, will not be enough and cannot satisfy our demand for instant power at all times of the day or night at a reasonable price.

THE ALTERNATIVES

It seems to be a taboo to talk about energy from nuclear power, but this is misguided. Going nuclear offers tried and tested alternatives to coal. The West has got generating energy from uranium down to a fine art, but it does involve some potentially dangerous problems, which are overcome by powerful engineering designs which then must be operated safely. But an additional factor when using URANIUM is that it produces long term radioactive waste.  Relocating and storage of this waste is expensive and is a big problem.

Russia in November 2020, very kindly offered to help us with this continuous generating problem by offering standard Uranium modules for generating power. They offered to handle all aspects of the fuel cycle and its disposal.  In hindsight this would have been an unbelievable bargain. It can be assumed that we could have also used Russian expertise in solving the power distribution flows throughout the grid.

THORIUM

But thankfully we are blessed with a second nuclear choice – that of the mildly radioactive THORIUM, a much cheaper and safer solution to our energy needs.

News last month (January 2026) told us of how China has built a container ship that can run on Thorium for ten years without refuelling.  They must have solved the corrosion problem of the main fluoride mixing container walls. China has rare earths and can use AI computers to solve their metallurgical problems – fast!

Nevertheless, Russia can equally offer Sri Lanka Thorium- powered generating stations. Here the benefits are even more obviously evident. Thorium can be a quite cheap source of energy using locally mined material plus, so importantly, the radioactive waste remains dangerous for only a few hundred years, unlike uranium waste.

Because they are relatively small, only the size of a semi-detached house, such thorium generating stations can be located near the point of use, reducing the need for UNSIGHTLY towers and power grid distribution lines.

The design and supply of standard Thorium reactor machines may be more expensive but can be obtained from Russia itself, or China – our friends in our time of need.

Priyantha Hettige

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Opinion

Will computers ever be intelligent?

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Alan Turin and the Turin machine

The Island has recently published various articles on AI, and they are thought-provoking. This article is based on a paper I presented at a London University seminar, 22 years ago.

Will computers ever be intelligent? This question is controversial and crucial and, above all, difficult to answer. As a scientist and student of philosophy, how am I going to answer this question is a problem. In my opinion this cannot be purely a philosophical question. It involves science, especially the new branch of science called “The Artificial Intelligence”. I shall endeavour to answer this question cautiously.

Philosophers do not collect empirical evidence unlike scientists. They only use their own minds and try to figure out the way the world is. Empirical scientists collect data, repeat and predict the behaviour of matter and analyse them.

We can see that the question—”Will computers ever be intelligent?”—comes under the branch of philosophy known as Philosophy of Mind. Although philosophy of mind is a broad area, I am concentrating here mainly on the question of consciousness. Without consciousness there is no intelligence. While they often coincide in humans and animals, they can exist independently, especially in AI, which can be highly intelligent without being conscious.

AI and philosophers

It appears that Artificial Intelligence holds a special attraction for philosophers. I am not surprised about this as Al involves using computers to solve problems that seem to require human reasoning. Apart from solving complicated mathematical problems it can understand natural language. Computers do not “understand” human language in the human sense of comprehension; rather, they use Natural Language Processing (NLP) and machine learning to analyse patterns in data. Artificial Intelligence experts claim certain programmes can have the possibility of not only thinking like humans but also understanding concepts and becoming conscious.

The study of the possible intelligence of logical machines makes a wonderful test case for the debate between mind and brain. This debate has been going on for the last two and a half centuries. If material things, made up entirely of logical processes, can do exactly what the brain can, the question is whether the mind is material or immaterial.

Although the common belief is that philosophers think for the sake of thinking, it is not necessarily so. Early part of the 20th century brought about advances in logic and analytical philosophy in Britain. It was a philosopher (Ludwig Wittgenstein) who invented the truth table. This was a simple analytic tool useful in his early work. But this was absolutely essential to the conceptual basis of early computer science. Computer science and brain science have developed together and that is why the challenge of the thinking machine is so important for the philosophy of mind. My argument so far has been to justify how and why AI is important to philosophers and vice versa.

Looking at computers now, we can see that the more sophisticated the computer, the more it is able to emulate rather than stimulate our thought processes. Every time the neuroscientists discover the workings of the brain, they try to mimic brain activity with machines.

How can one tell if a computer is intelligent? We can ask it some questions or set a test and study its response and satisfy ourselves that there is some form of intelligence inside this box. Let us look at the famous Alan Turing Test. Imagine a person sitting at a terminal (A) typing questions. This terminal is connected to two other machines, (B) and (C). At terminal (B) sits another person (B) typing responses to the questions from person (A). (C) is not a human being, but a computer programmed to respond to the questions. If person (A) cannot tell the difference between person (B) and computer(C), then we can deduce that computer is as intelligent as person (B). Critics of this test think that there is nothing brilliant about it. As this is a pragmatic exercise and one need not have to define intelligence here. This must have amused the scientists and the philosophers in the early days of the computers. Nowadays, computers can do much more sophisticated work.

Chinese Room experiment

The other famous experiment is John Sealer’s Chinese room experiment. *He uses this experiment to debunk the idea that computers could be intelligent. For Searle, the mind and the brain are the same. But he warns us that we should not get carried away with the emulative success of the machines as mind contains an irreducible subjective quality. He claims that consciousness is a biological process. It is found in humans as well as in certain animals. It is interesting to note that he believes that the mind is entirely contained in the brain. And the empirical discovery of neural processes cannot be applied to outside the brain. He discards mind-body dualism and thinks that we cannot build a brain outside the body. More commonly, we believe the mind is totally in the brain, and all firing together and between, and what we call ‘thought’ comes from their multifarious collaboration.

Patricia and Paul Churchland are keen on neuroscientific methods rather than conventional psychology. They argue that the brain is really a processing machine in action. It is an amazing organ with a delicately organic structure. It is an example of a computer from the future and that at present we can only dream of approaching its processing speed. I think this is not something to be surprised about. The speed of the computer doubles every year and a half and in the distant future there will be machines computing faster than human beings. Further, the Churchlands’, strongly believe that through science one day we will replicate the human brain. To argue against this, I am putting forward the following true story.

I remember watching an Open University (London) education programme some years ago. A team of professors did an experiment on pavement hawkers in Bogota, Colombia. They were fruit sellers. The team bought a large number of miscellaneous items from these street vendors. This was repeated on a number of occasions. Within a few seconds, these vendors did mental calculations and came out with the amounts to be paid and the change was handed over equally fast. It was a success and repeatable and predictable. The team then took the sample population into a classroom situation and taught them basic arithmetic skills. After a few months of training they were given simple sums to do on selling fruit. Every one of them failed. These people had the brain structure that of ordinary human beings. They were skilled at their own jobs. But they could not be programmed to learn a set of rules. This poses the question whether we can create a perfect machine that will learn all the human transferable skills.

Computers and human brains excel at different tasks. For instance, a computer can remember things for an infinite amount of time. This is true as long as we don’t delete the computer files. Also, solving equations can be done in milliseconds. In my own experience when I was an undergraduate, I solved partial differential equations and it took me hours and a lot of paper. The present-day students have marvellous computer programmes for this. Let alone a mere student of mathematics, even a mathematical genius couldn’t rival computers in the above tasks. When it comes to languages, we can utter sentences of a completely foreign language after hearing it for the first time. Accents and slang can be decoded in our minds. Such algorithms, which we take for granted, will be very difficult for a computer.

I always maintain that there is more to intelligence than just being brilliant at quick thinking. A balanced human being to my mind is an intelligent person. An eccentric professor of Quantum Mechanics without feelings for life or people, cannot be considered an intelligent person. To people who may disagree with me, I shall give the benefit of the doubt and say most of the peoples’ intelligence is departmentalised. Intelligence is a total process.

Other limitations to AI

There are other limitations to artificial intelligence. The problems that existing computer programmes can handle are well-defined. There is a clear-cut way to decide whether a proposed solution is indeed the right one. In an algebraic equation, for example, the computer can check whether the variables and constants balance on both sides. But in contrast, many of the problems people face are ill-defined. As of yet, computer programmes do not define their own problems. It is not clear that computers will ever be able to do so in the way people do. Another crucial difference between humans and computers concerns “common sense”. An understanding of what is relevant and what is not. We possess it and computers don’t. The enormous amount of knowledge and experience about the world and its relevance to various problems computers are unlikely to have.

In this essay, I have attempted to discuss the merits and limitations of artificial intelligence, and by extension, computers. The evolution of the human brain has occurred over millennia, and creating a machine that truly matches human intelligence and is balanced in terms of emotions may be impossible or could take centuries

*The Chinese Room experiment, proposed by philosopher John Searle, challenges the idea that computers can truly “understand” language. Imagine a person locked in a room who does not know Chinese. They receive Chinese symbols through a slot and use an instruction manual to match them with other symbols to produce correct replies. To outsiders, it appears the person understands Chinese, but in reality, they are only following rules. Searle argues that similarly, a computer may process language convincingly without genuine understanding or consciousness.

by Sampath Anson Fernando

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