Features
NU AT THE London School of Economics
CHAPTER 10
[The London School of Economics] seems to prefer intense, committed, often workaholic scholars and public figures.
(Dahrendorf, 1995, History of the LSE, p.191)
NU in London
NU’s next big break came in 1938, when aged 30, he received a scholarship and leave to pursue postgraduate studies at the London School of Economics (LSE) as an internal student. The government was in the early stages of setting up a new Commerce and Industry Department, and NU’s superiors had selected him to undertake the special one-year course of training in Business Administration offered by the LSE, to make NU’s services “more useful to the department.” He was expected to: “make a closer acquaintance with modern business methods and to acquire training in practical commerce”(N.U. Jayawardena Personal Files).
In his admissions application, NU stated that he was interested in acquiring “a close acquaintance with the foreign marketing of primary agricultural products”; and that the Sri Lankan government would make arrangements with the recently established Colonial Empire Marketing Board to enable NU to familiarize himself with their marketing surveys. His special interest was the marketing of “oil seeds,” since Sri Lanka was the leading exporter of copra and coconut oil (letter to Prof. Arnold Plant, 18 Jan. 1938).
LSE records indicate that NU received a scholarship of £300 for the year as well as half-pay as an allowance. The cost of the course was £30. Whereas his leave was for one year, NU provisionally sought permission to extend his studies for a further year. With his sights set high – as they always were – he had ideas of completing a Ph.D. in two years if the LSE allowed it. For NU, this would not have seemed an unusual goal. However, there were strict rules and he was advised that he could apply for the M.Sc. degree concurrently with the Business Administration course – which he did. He also had not given up his ambition of obtaining a law degree. Accordingly, NU almost immediately sought and obtained permission from the LSE to register and study for the (London) Bar examinations.
NU’s selection for the special Business Administration course was fortuitous. His theoretical and practical exposure to business and commercial studies at the LSE would equip him for the second half of his life as a business and financial entrepreneur. The opportunity to study at the LSE as an internal student gave him the chance to devote himself to his studies without the added pressures of work and family commitments, and to attend lectures by eminent economists and social scientists (some of whose works he had already read for his B.Sc. (Econ.) degree). Furthermore, to attend a prestigious university and to make use of its facilities, while living in London a commercial and an intellectual hub – was for him a great opportunity. NU arrived in Britain in September 1938 for the LSE term that began in October and ended in June 1939.
This was NU’s first experience as a full-time student, and the excitement he felt at that prospect is not hard to imagine. His period in London was to have a profound effect on his intellectual life and professional career. As part of the process of setting up the Department of Commerce and Industry, the Sri Lankan government had recently established Trade Commissions abroad, one of which was located at “Ceylon House” in London at 28 Cockspur Street, SW1, which served as NU’s mailing address.
The LSE
The London School of Economics and Political Science, better known as the LSE, and a part of the University of London, was founded in 1895 by a group of Fabian socialists, notably Sidney and Beatrice Webb, Graham Wallas and George Bernard Shaw. The LSE aimed to provide a theoretical understanding of the political economy of Britain and the world that could also be of use to the emerging labour movement in Britain, where there was plenty of action but less in the way of theoretical insights. Trade union militancy had developed rapidly in Britain from the 1880s onwards; and the Labour Party, formed in 1906, was composed of Fabian socialists, along with representatives of the trade unions and the cooperative movement.
The older universities of Oxford and Cambridge were elitist, and mainly geared to the humanities, classics and philosophy, with a strong emphasis on sports. They had their ancient buildings and chapels, rivers, boat races, lawns, and historic rituals. These universities had traditionally produced the ‘mandarins’ who would rule Britain and its colonies. In contrast to such ‘ivory towers’ and bastions of privilege, the LSE was down-to-earth, non-elitist, and an urban institution that reflected the shifting needs of the times. As society and the economy became more complex and industrialized, a broad classics-based education, to produce ‘cultivated’ gentlemen to help run governments, was no longer adequate.
There was a growing need for specialization and applied knowledge, as governments began to administer and build new and more complex political and economic institutions. Max Weber, the pioneer sociologist, noted this clash of the two approaches to education: the first being the traditional approach, of which “the goal consisted of “‘the quality of a man’s bearing in life,’ which was considered ‘cultivated;’” and the modern view, which valorized “specialized training for expertness” (Weber, 1948, p.243). The 1930s and 1940s were the period when this transition became more solidified, even in the colonies; and after his return from the LSE, NU, who exemplified the “specialist type of man,” would soon incur the resentment of the older type of “cultivated man” in the bureaucracy.
The LSE seemed an ideal place for a person with NU’s qualifications, outlook and work experience. It was policy-oriented and had new courses in sociology, political science, business, commerce, and other subjects, such as statistics, not taught in the longer-established universities. As a “total institution,” it had a certain vibrancy – one entered it in the morning and left at night. Apart from lectures, tutorials and discussions, students could use the library and canteen, attend lunchtime dances, participate in student societies, and listen to guest speakers – including British and foreign politicians, and from the colonies, agitators for independence.
Outside the LSE complex, students were part of the capital city of London, with its several attractions and distractions – political, social and cultural. The LSE was in the ‘heart’ of London, within walking distance of a cluster of historic monuments and institutions,
such as the BBC, the Bank of England and commercial banks (Threadneedle Street), newspaper offices (Fleet Street,) the Law Courts, Bloomsbury, the British Museum, Trafalgar Square, Whitehall, the House of Commons, the theatres of the West End, the multi-ethnic restaurants of Soho, and the great bookshops (notably Foyles) on Charing Cross Road.
Supported by grants and bequests, the LSE developed as a part of the London University and developed a character of its own. The LSE motto was “rerum cognoscere causas” (to know the cause of things), and it had as its logo, a beaver – an animal that burrows. “The School” (as it was known) attracted teachers in the newer disciplines of economics and political science, and became associated with many famous and controversial names – which added to its attraction for students. LSE’s director from 1920 to 1937 was Lord William Beveridge – the author of the Beveridge Report, which launched the welfare state in Britain after World War II. Ralf Dahrendorf, who served as Director from 1974 to 1984 (and became author of the authoritative history of the LSE), states that it did not exactly “invent” the social sciences, but “brought them together like no other university in Europe (and) led them to full bloom in all their variety” (Dahrendorf, 1995, p.vii).
The diversity of the LSE was partly due to its internationalism, which was “one of its greatest strengths” and “widened the horizons of hundreds of students and many young members of staff” (ibid, p.223). Moreover, in the 1930s the LSE benefited from the flight of European scholars escaping Fascism, who injected “a new energy” into the university (ibid, p.296). According to economist Harry Johnson, the “essential thing” about the LSE was that it was “the one centre of economic teaching and research” in Britain that was “genuinely international”:
…it is not merely an established British university that allows itself the luxury of a few foreign staff-members and students for the sake of variety and balance, but a world university that tries both to keep in touch with whatever of intellectual importance is going on elsewhere in the world, and to admit to its scholarly fellowship students of quality whatever their origin may be. (Johnson, quoted in Dahrendorf, p.223)
In the LSE of the 1920s and 1930s, the Department of Economics was renowned and “acted as a magnet for bright students from many parts of the world” (Dahrendorf, p.215). There were African, Asian, Middle Eastern, and North and South American students at the LSE – many of them eventually becoming eminent politicians, bureaucrats, university teachers or diplomats in their countries. Among them in the 1930s were Krishna Menon, N.M. Perera, R.N. Haksar, Doreen Wickremasinghe, and B.K. Nehru. NU would have known many such students at the LSE, for as B.K. Nehru (later an Indian diplomat) remarked, “foreign students tend to form their own groups for they are all homeless and rootless and friendless” (ibid, p.190).
The LSE possessed a remarkable diversity in terms of race and class, in contrast to the privileged old universities. B.K. Nehru commented on its “pervasive atmosphere of learning” and the “absence of distractions” (ibid, p.185). Kingsley Martin (editor of New Statesman), who studied at LSE, found it “a wonderful home of free discussion, happily mixed races, and genuine learning” (ibid, p.187). According to Dahrendorf, the LSE “did not necessarily produce well-rounded personalities,” as it seemed to attract committed single-minded and hard-working scholars and public figures (ibid,p.191). He also remarks that:
Real life was never far away… LSE was… more serious and also more seriously cherished by its students even if they were desperately poor or felt that their ‘delight’ was almost outweighed by ‘drudgery’… The school produced a particular frame of mind. (ibid, p.301, emphasis added)
Unlike the prestigious universities, many poor students attended the LSE, and others doing daytime jobs followed the evening classes. “Some students were poor, very poor,” Dahrendorf wrote, and also noted that it hurt to read how “Nell McGregor worked her way out of a Manchester working-class family in the middle of the depression to the LSE… [and] got her degree on tea and buns and baked potatoes and not much else” (ibid, p.299). NU would have empathized with the problems of such students, who struggled against all odds to pursue their studies, much like he himself had once done. Years later, in a taped interview, NU would recall walking from one end of London to the other and being struck by the contrasts of wealth and poverty he encountered along the way.
A student’s assessment of the LSE around the time that NU was there, was that, “the closed mind was alien to everything about the LSE” (ibid, p.299). The LSE economists regarded themselves as “the centre of the school, if not the universe” (ibid, p.298). Some of the great lecturers were described as “spell-binders,” “great showmen” with “beautiful speaking voices” (ibid, p.297).
The Economics Department
In the 1930s, the LSE, which had started with a social-democratic vision, veered to the right in economics and to the left in political science, whereas the older Cambridge University ironically absorbed the left-inclined economists. Controversies raged between LSE and Cambridge on the respective virtues of the ‘free market’ and of the Keynesian model (ibid, p.219). In “the second dispute between London and Cambridge,” the chief interest was “the way to combat [the Depression of 1929], by deflation or by expanding public expenditure” (ibid, p.218).
NU, who had lived through the Depression and also written about it, would have been avidly reading about these debates, and he almost certainly gravitated more towards the LSE viewpoint. These debates and polemics (and quarrels) of the 1930s were a “turbulent episode in the history of economics” (ibid, p.217). The issues were “broad, including methodology, theory, policy, ideology, and the role of the economist in public life” (ibid, p.218). Since politics was ever present at the LSE, these ‘great
debates’ reflected a political divide.
Robbins and Hayek Lionel Robbins and Friedrich von Hayek formed the bulwark in the LSE of traditional liberalism against Keynesian interventionism and socialism, which were the dominant creeds of the day. Robbins was head of the Economics Department. He was born in 1898 in a village near London, the son of a market-gardener who was a “liberal activist” and “strict Baptist.” He used to cycle five miles to a local school. In 1920 he entered the LSE as a student, and was later appointed to the staff. In 1929 he became Professor of Economics (Dahrendorf, p.214). By all accounts, he was a fine teacher, known for his “great seminar in economic theory” (ibid). Students doing other courses sat in at his seminar – and not to have attended it, was said to be as bad as not having been at the LSE (S.B.D de Silva, 2007, personal communication).
The philosophy and theories of Friedrich von Hayek, whom Robbins invited to join the department in 1931, would make one of the most significant impacts on the discipline of economics and economic policy. He was an émigré economist, formerly a citizen of the collapsed Austro-Hungarian Empire, and belonged to the Austrian School of Economics. Though scoffed at by mainstream economists at the time, his ideas gained ascendance in the 1980s, half a century later.
Hayek won the Nobel Prize in Economics in 1974, and is best known for his book on the dangers of central planning, The Road to Serfdom (1944). He came from a family of biologists, and was second cousin to the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. As a young man serving in the army during World War I, he had felt the “compulsion to find an answer to ‘the burning question’ of how to build a ‘juster society’” ( Interestingly, NU’s 232-page economic magnum opus, written in 1977 (which coincided with the liberalization of the economy when the UNP formed the government in a landslide victory), was similarly entitled An Agenda for a Just Society.) (Yergin, 1998, p.123). According to Hayek:
The desire to reconstruct society led many of us to the study of economics. Socialism promised to fulfil our hopes for a more rational, more just world… [it was] almost inevitable… [that any] warm-hearted person, as soon as he becomes conscious of the existing misery, should become a socialist. (ibid, pp.125-26)
As an Austrian, however, his direct experience with the hyperinflation that occurred in his country after World War I, alerted him to its dangers. Hayek was wary of state interference and believed the open-market system was the most effective means, not only of promoting individual freedom, but also of regulating demand and supply – or as pithily summed up by the US economist Larry Summers, many years later – the “invisible hand was better than the hidden hand” (ibid, p.132). Hayek thought of the price system as being “nothing less than a marvel.
” (According to Hayek: The marvel is that in a case like that of a scarcity of one raw material, without an order being issued, without more than perhaps a handful of people knowing the cause, tens of thousands of people whose identity could not be ascertained by months of investigation, are made to use the material or its products more sparingly; that is, they move in the right direction (Yergin, 1998, p.125). His main contention against Keynesian interventionism and other centrist approaches was that information was lacking about markets to enable planners to adjust them. Later, Hayek became “increasingly apprehensive about what he saw as the advance of collectivism, central planning and Keynesian interventionism” (ibid, p.125).
The famed Keynes-Hayek debates that took place between Cambridge and the LSE today still shape the two major schools of economic thought regarding the merits of the welfare state versus a market-controlled economy. The LSE’s influence upon modern economics became the basis of the modern perceptions of free-market economics, with an influence almost around the globe.
Business Administration
While the courses at the LSE were mainly ‘academic,’ the university also provided some that were of an applied and practical nature in business and commercial subjects. One of these was the special course in Business Administration, which NU followed in 1938. The Business Administration Department was set up in 1931, somewhat on the lines of the Harvard Business School programme. Bothuniversities took a less traditional, more hands-on approach to education,
centred around ‘case studies.’ The course at the LSE involved study tours of and internships with British business firms, government departments and similar organizations, and discussions led by
business leaders.
The LSE Business Administration course was unique in Britain at this time, and was a precursor to the MBA (Masters in Business Administration). Competition to enrol in it was high, with entry restricted to 20 students per year. NU was the first Asian to be admitted to the programme after its inception in 1931 (N.U. Jaywardena Personal Files). It involved an amazing range and number of subjects: Business Relations, Business Finance, Cost and Marketing Problems of Manufacturers, Cost and Marketing Problems of Distributors, Business Statistics, Management Accounting, Industrial Psychology and Personnel Management, and included factory visits. Students were also required to attend other lectures in Business Administration and in Economic Principles. The course was a “full session of daytime study” extending over 29 weeks (Pamphlet of the Dept. of Business Administration, Session 1939-40, p.6).
NU recorded that he visited many factories and firms, “with a view to studying their systems of business organization, personnel management and factory administration.” These included wellknown companies of the time such as the Ford Motor Co., Harrods, Lyon’s, and Metal Box. He also visited the Colonial Office, Department of Overseas Trade, and Colonial Empire Markets Board.
Students of the Business Studies course had full access to the LSE’s facilities, including the library and membership of the Students’ Union. The faculty was composed of some eminent teachers and its head was Arnold Plant, the Professor of Commerce and Business Administration, “an outstanding teacher” in Economics (Dahrendorf, p.205). The Business Studies students also had access to the lectures of other distinguished economists and statisticians in this ‘heroic age’ of the LSE. They included, besides Robbins and Hayek, F.W. Paish, Vera Anstey, A.M. Carr-Saunders, Professor R.H.Tawney (famed for his classic book Religion and the Rise of Capitalism), and many more illustrious persons.
Teachers from other disciplines whose lectures attracted students were Harold Laski (Political Science), A.J. Toynbee (International History), Morris Ginsberg (Sociology), B. Malinowski (Anthropology), Karl Manheim (Sociology) and Ivor Jennings (English Law) (Calendar of the LSE 1938-39, pp.24-29). The latter deserves special mention because of the important role he was to play in Sri Lanka’s university and constitutional affairs. Jennings came to Sri Lanka during the war in 1941, to serve as the Principal of Ceylon University College, and was instrumental in setting up the Universities in Colombo and later, Peradeniya. He also served as the chief legal advisor to Oliver Goonetilleke (see Chapter 11), and played a major role in helping substantially in drafting the Soulbury Constitution of independent Sri Lanka. Among the younger lecturers at the LSE of the time who later became eminent in their fields were R.G.D. Allen (Statistics), R.W. Firth and M. Fortes (Anthropology), DudleyStamp (Geography), and H. Finer (Public Administration)
NU deepened his interest in economic theory during his period at the LSE, benefiting from the lectures and seminars of eminent economists and social scientists, and from the ongoing debates on economic theory and policy. He also widened his experience through his contact with students from different countries. The LSE library contained a vast collection of nearly three quarters of a million books and journals in the social sciences (Pamphlet of the Dept. of Business Administration, Session 1939-40, p.23). NU – whose love of books dated from his early school days, when he used the Library and Reading Room of St. Aloysius’ College – would have been in his element there. One can imagine the delight and wonder that NU would have felt at having this world of knowledge laid out before him.
As mentioned earlier, during NU’s stay in London he perhaps for the first time felt a measure of freedom. His correspondence from this period shows that, while he was trying to make maximum use of this time to advance in his studies, he also took time off to visit new places. During the holidays, he travelled to Cornwall, as well as to Switzerland, where he went during his summer break. But the changing events in Europe brought his stay to a sudden end.
With war looming on the horizon in the wake of the rise of Fascism, London became a politically tense city. After the declaration of war against Nazi Germany in September 1939, the situation changed irrevocably. As a precaution, the LSE temporarily moved its campus to Cambridge. Although there was no bombing of London or fighting for the rest of that year, foreign students, for fear of becoming stranded, quickly prepared to return home. In spite of the danger, NU desired to stay on at the LSE in Cambridge for the 1939/40 term. The Colonial Office initially had no objection, but in early October 1939, it wrote a letter to the LSE informing them that NU should return “as soon as possible.” He was in Switzerland at the time this letter arrived, and could not immediately find his way back to London – he had a problem about obtaining a visa from the French authorities. However, by December 1939, he managed to obtain passage to Colombo.
The Family Back Home
While NU had been in England at the LSE, Gertrude with their children, Lal aged 4 and Nimal aged 2, moved to Colombo from Lunava (their daughter, Neiliya would be born in the year following NU’s return to Colombo). Gertrude, the boys and their nanny stayed in a guesthouse called “Killarney” in Kollupitiya. Lal attended his first school, St. Clares’, also popularly known after its principal, Ruth Marshall, as “Miss Marshall’s School.” In the evenings, the family went to Victoria (Vihara Maha Devi) Park, which had swings and other equipment for children to play on. NU’s sister Rosalind was close to Gertrude, and when NU went to Britain, Gertrude spent a day or two at Rosalind’s home in Ratmalana to observe sil for poya. Rosalind’s daughter Chandrani (born 1930), dressed in white, accompanied Gertrude to the temple. After NU’s return, as he moved up in his career, the family rented a house on Police Park Avenue. It would not have been easy for a young mother with two infant sons to cope on her own. NU later, recalling this period years later, remarked that:
I did not realize how much I had neglected my family in those distant days while I studied and fully spent my time at the London School of Economics. (Roshan Peiris, Sunday Observer, 13 Dec. 1987)
A great support to Gertrude was the nanny who worked for her, Jane Cornelia Atale, a Eurasian Christian, who was a widow. Mrs. Atale came to work for the Jayawardenas before the birth of the elder boy Lal, and stayed with the family long after Neiliya (the youngest in the family) was married. Born around 1880, her father was a British planter, and like many Eurasian ‘orphans’ she was brought up in a Catholic convent. Fluent in English, she had worked as a nanny for a planting family – the Ogilvys – and also at the “House of Joy,” an orphanage in Talava run by a missionary, Miss Evelyn Kearney. Mrs. Atale had also been a hospital attendant. She was married to a Sinhala employee in the Prisons Department, and had two daughters. She was a strong presence in the Jayawardena household helping to bring up the three children, who were greatly attached to
her. Neiliya recalls that she was the only one able to calm NU down when he lost his temper. Mrs. Atale never left the Jayawardenas, until her death in 1970, aged 90, at the home of Nimal.
A crucial phase in NU’s life began after this brief interlude in London as a student. The war and postwar years in Sri Lanka were when NU’s talents as an economist and an administrator would be increasingly recognized and utilized to the fullest. (N.U. JAYAWARDENA The First Five Decades Chapter 9 can read online on https://island.lk/in-west-asia-india-could-be-the-impartial-arbitrator/
(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)
By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda ✍️
Features
New arithmetic of conflict: How the drone revolution is inverting economics of war
The contemporary global landscape is currently defined by two distinct but interconnected theaters of conflict that are fundamentally reshaping the future of military engagement, as noted by political analyst Fareed Zakaria. This shifts the advantage toward smaller states, or even non-state actors, who do not need to defeat a superpower in direct confrontation; they only need to sustain a constant level of low-cost harassment. In the Middle East, the escalating tensions between the United States and Iran have moved beyond traditional brinkmanship into a high-stakes confrontation centred on the Strait of Hormuz and regional infrastructure. This direction is characterised by Iran’s sophisticated use of asymmetric ‘precise mass’ to challenge American naval and technological superiority, forcing a re-evaluation of how a superpower maintains deterrence against a revolutionary regime that views its own hardware as expendable. This theatre serves as a primary example of how a medium-sized power can utilise low-cost, high-volume technology to neutralize the traditional advantages of a much wealthier adversary, potentially driving the region toward a dangerous nuclear threshold as conventional red lines are blurred.
Simultaneously, the war between Ukraine and Russia has become the world’s preeminent laboratory for the digital transformation of the battlefield. The direction of this conflict has shifted from a 20th-century war of attrition into a 21st-century war of algorithms, where the most critical ammunition is no longer just artillery shells, but data and software. Ukraine’s rapid adaptation—turning commercial drones into precision interceptors and using AI to process millions of combat images—has created a template for modern survival against a larger industrial power. Together, these two conflicts signal a global transition where the ‘exquisite’ military models of the past are being dismantled by the ‘new arithmetic’ of mass-produced precision. This essay examines how the inversion of war economics in these regions is ensuring that future supremacy will not belong to those with the most expensive platforms, but to those who can master the integration of industrial-scale with near-real-time software intelligence.
Fundamental departure
The ‘New Arithmetic of Conflict’ represents a fundamental departure from the 20th-century military paradigm, shifting the focus from high-cost, high-performance ‘exquisite’ systems to the power of ‘precise mass.’ For the last 50 years, military supremacy—particularly for the United States and its allies—has been defined by technologically superior platforms, such as the F-35 fighter jet or the Tomahawk cruise missile. While these systems are undeniably magnificent in their capabilities, they are also incredibly costly and irreplaceable in the short term. Because they take years to design and manufacture, losing even a handful in active combat is strategically damaging and painful for a modern military. This old model relied on a limited number of high-end assets that were slow to produce and even slower to replace, creating a vulnerability that smaller, more agile adversaries have now begun to exploit.
This traditional economic model is being turned upside down by the rise of cheap, commercial-off-the-shelf technology that achieves results previously reserved for superpower budgets. The emergence of the Shahed-type drone, which costs approximately $35,000, illustrates this shift perfectly. Unlike a $2 million cruise missile, these ‘one-way’ drones are built from common parts and can be launched in massive swarms. This creates a state of ‘precise mass,’ where the sheer volume of incoming, low-cost threats can overwhelm even the most sophisticated and expensive defence systems. The attacker no longer needs a massive industrial base to strike with precision; they only need the ability to scale simple, autonomous hardware.
Perhaps the most radical aspect of this inversion is the ‘cost-exchange ratio’ between attack and defence. In the past, an attacker generally had to spend more to destroy a target than a defender spent to protect it. Today, the arithmetic favours the attacker by an order of magnitude. To intercept a single $35,000 drone, a defender may be forced to fire a Patriot interceptor missile that costs roughly $4 million. This means the defender is spending over 100 times more than the attacker just to maintain the status quo. This economic reality suggests that a wealthier nation can effectively be ‘bankrupted’ or depleted of its ammunition reserves by a much smaller state or even a non-state actor using constant, low-cost harassment.
Primary laboratory
Ukraine has served as the primary laboratory for this new era of warfare, demonstrating that the real value in modern conflict is shifting from hardware to software and data. Ukrainian forces are producing stinging interceptor drones for as little as $2,000, capable of taking down far more expensive hardware. More importantly, they are treating battlefield data as a strategic asset, using millions of annotated images from combat flights to train drone AI. This creates a cycle of rapid wartime adaptation where lessons from the battlefield are turned into mass production in days rather than years. Ultimately, the winner of future conflicts may not be the nation with the finest individual platforms, but the one that can combine a small number of ‘exquisite’ weapons with a vast, intelligent, and cheaply networked mass of autonomous systems.
Building on the distinction between the ‘exquisite’ and the ‘expendable,’ the shift in military doctrine reflects a move away from the post-Cold War reliance on a small number of ultra-sophisticated assets toward a more resilient, high-volume architecture. For decades, Western military superiority was predicated on having the most advanced technology in the sky or on the sea, but the sheer cost and complexity of these systems have created a ‘fragility of excellence.’ When a single stealth fighter costs over $100 million, its loss is not merely a tactical setback but a national news event and a significant blow to the overall fleet’s readiness. This creates a psychological and strategic ‘risk aversion,’ where commanders may hesitate to deploy their most capable assets in high-threat environments for fear of losing an irreplaceable piece of national infrastructure.
Furthermore, the industrial reality of ‘exquisite’ systems is that they are built on highly specialised, low-volume production lines. In a high-intensity conflict, the rate of attrition—the speed at which equipment is destroyed—can quickly outpace the capacity of a modern industrial base to replace it. If a nation can only produce a few dozen advanced interceptors a year but loses hundreds of drones or missiles in a single week of combat, the mathematical deficit becomes insurmountable. This bottleneck has forced a re-evaluation of what constitutes a ‘good’ platform; the priority is shifting toward systems that are ‘good enough’ to be effective but cheap enough to be lost without compromising the mission or the budget.
In contrast to these legacy systems, the ‘expendable’ model treats hardware as a consumable resource, much like ammunition. By utilising modular designs and civilian-grade components, nations can mass-produce thousands of autonomous units that are inherently ‘attrition-tolerant.’ This does not mean the end of high-end technology, but rather its repositioning. Instead of a single $100 million jet trying to do everything, the future likely involves a ‘high-low’ mix where a few exquisite platforms act as command-and-control hubs, orchestrating vast swarms of cheap, expendable drones. This evolution ensures that even if the enemy successfully targets dozens of units, the collective network remains functional, shifting the strategic advantage back to the side that can sustain the fight through industrial scale and digital adaptability.
Concept of ‘precise mass’
The concept of ‘precise mass’ represents a strategic pivot where quantity possesses a quality of its own, enabled by the democratization of high-end technology. Historically, precision was a luxury available only to the world’s most advanced militaries, requiring specialised Guidance Systems and satellite constellations. Today, the ‘New Arithmetic’ flips this model by integrating commercial-off-the-shelf components—such as GPS chips found in smartphones and engines from hobbyist aircraft—into lethal, autonomous platforms.
This shift allows smaller states and non-state actors to achieve tactical objectives that once required a superpower’s budget, effectively levelling the playing field through the clever application of low-cost innovation.
The ‘Shahed Model’ serves as the primary case study for this transformation. By producing ‘one-way’ suicide drones for approximately $35,000 each, Iran has created a weapon that is essentially a flying piece of ammunition.
Because these drones are built from common, globally available parts, they are insulated from many traditional supply chain disruptions and can be manufactured at an industrial scale that far outpaces sophisticated cruise missiles. This approach prioritises ‘good enough’ technology—systems that are sufficiently accurate to hit a target but inexpensive enough to be deployed in staggering numbers without financial second-guessing.
The true power of this model is realised through ‘swarm tactics,’ which weaponise the mathematical limitations of modern air defences. When a country launches dozens or even hundreds of these low-cost drones simultaneously, it forces the defender into a ‘saturation’ crisis. Even the most advanced missile defence systems have a limited number of interceptors and can only track a finite number of targets at once. By flooding the airspace with cheap decoys and suicide drones, an attacker can ensure that while many units are shot down, a sufficient percentage will inevitably leak through to strike their targets. This creates a state of ‘precise mass,’ where volume becomes the ultimate delivery mechanism for precision, rendering traditional, high-cost defence umbrellas increasingly obsolete.
This evolution signifies that the era of the ‘silver bullet’—the single, perfect weapon—is giving way to the era of the ‘steel rain.’ In this new environment, the strategic advantage shifts to the side that can manage the highest rate of ‘precise attrition.’ Success is no longer measured by the technical sophistication of a single strike, but by the ability to sustain a continuous, overwhelming flow of autonomous threats that exhaust the enemy’s resources, patience, and defensive capacity.
‘Bankruptcy of the Defence’
The ‘Bankruptcy of the Defence’ represents a critical failure in the modern military-industrial complex’s ability to counter asymmetric threats. In the 20th century, the financial burden of warfare typically fell on the aggressor, who had to invest in expensive bombers or long-range missiles to penetrate a nation’s borders. Today, that economic gravity has shifted entirely. The most radical part of this inversion is the ‘cost-exchange ratio,’ a mathematical reality that turns defensive success into a financial liability. When a defender successfully intercepts a threat, they are often winning the tactical battle while simultaneously losing the economic war.
This disparity is most visible in what can be called the ‘$4 Million Solution.’ In modern conflict zones, we regularly see sophisticated air defence batteries—designed to intercept high-altitude ballistic missiles—being forced to engage low-speed, ‘suicide’ drones. Using a $4 million Patriot interceptor to neutralise a $35,000 Shahed-type drone is an unsustainable strategy. Even if the defence achieves a 100% intercept rate, the attacker is essentially ‘trading up’ in value at a staggering scale. The defender is forced to expend a finite, high-cost resource to eliminate a nearly infinite, low-cost nuisance, creating a logistical bottleneck where the supply of interceptors can never meet the demand of the swarm.
This ‘Losing Game’ fundamentally alters the grand strategy of global powers. Mathematically, when a defender is spending over 100 times more than the attacker per engagement, they are participating in a process of rapid financial and material depletion. As Fareed Zakaria notes, this ‘new arithmetic’ shifts the advantage toward smaller states, insurgent groups, or even criminal organisations. These actors do not need to defeat a superpower’s navy or air force in a direct confrontation; they only need to sustain a constant level of low-cost harassment. Over time, the cost of maintaining a ‘perfect’ defense becomes so high that it can effectively bankrupt a wealthier opponent or force them to withdraw from a region simply because the price of protection has become greater than the value of the presence.
Interceptors alone won’t do
Ultimately, this economic inversion suggests that the future of defence cannot rely on ‘exquisite’ interceptors alone. The current model is built on a scarcity of precision, but in an era where precision is mass-produced, the defense must find a way to make interception as cheap as the intrusion. Until a nation can field directed-energy weapons or low-cost kinetic interceptors that match the $35,000 price point of the threat, they remain trapped in a defensive paradigm that is both mathematically flawed and strategically exhausting.
The final piece of this military evolution is the emergence of Ukraine as the ‘Great Laboratory’ of modern warfare, where necessity has birthed a model of adaptation that operates at wartime speed. This environment has transformed the country from a passive recipient of aid into a sovereign architect of a new kind of combat. Central to this transformation is the development of the ‘STING’ interceptor drone. Produced by groups like Wild Hornets for approximately $2,000, these drones can reach speeds of 280 km/h—fast enough to chase down and destroy the lumbering Shahed drones that have plagued Ukrainian infrastructure. By mid-2025, these low-cost predators had already downed over 3,000 enemy targets, proving that a $2,000 solution could reliably neutralize a threat costing tens of thousands, further tilting the economic scales in favor of the agile defender.
However, the most significant output of this laboratory is not the hardware itself, but the data it generates. Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov has noted that Ukraine now possesses a unique array of battlefield data that is unmatched anywhere in the world, including millions of annotated images gathered during tens of thousands of combat flights. In a historic move, Ukraine has begun opening access to this ‘digital ammunition’ through a dedicated AI platform. This allows international partners and defense firms to train their algorithms on real-world combat footage—spanning everything from electronic warfare interference to the movements of camouflaged ‘turtle tanks’—bridging the ‘sim-to-real’ gap that often causes sophisticated Western drones to fail in unpredictable, messy environments.
‘Software-defined’ battlefield
This data-centric approach has led to a ‘software-defined’ battlefield where the loop between a lesson learned, and a technical update is measured in days. Ukraine is now moving toward a procurement model where AI-driven analytics, rather than manual requests, determine which systems are purchased based on their real-world effectiveness. By treating every drone sortie as a data point in a broader matrix, the Ukrainian military is effectively closing the loop on procurement and employment, ensuring that only the most effective, attrition-tolerant technologies reach the front. This institutionalisation of failure analysis into the next generation of software means that the ‘Made in Ukraine’ badge has become a global gold standard for battle-proven, autonomous technology.
Ultimately, the implications of this laboratory stretch far beyond the current conflict. As human judgment gradually gives way to computer algorithms for target detection and navigation, the war’s most valuable legacy may be the creation of the world’s first ‘algorithmic’ military. The transition from industrial mass to algorithmic precision suggests that the countries that prevail in the future will not be those with the largest stockpiles of stagnant hardware, but those that can own and manage the ‘data polygons’ necessary to refine their autonomous systems in near-real time. Ukraine is no longer just fighting a war; it is hosting the debut of a future where data is the ultimate force multiplier.
The inversion of war economics signifies a fundamental shift where industrial capacity and software integration have eclipsed the traditional pursuit of ‘technological exquisiteness’ as the primary metrics of military power. For decades, the measure of a superpower was its ability to field a small number of nearly invulnerable, multi-million-dollar platforms. However, in the modern landscape, these ‘exquisite’ systems are increasingly vulnerable to ‘precise mass’—vast swarms of low-cost, autonomous drones that can be produced at a rate of thousands per day. This transition means that the ‘physical platform’ is becoming a commodity, while the true competitive advantage lies in the ‘compute foundation’ and ‘software-defined’ capabilities that allow these systems to be networked and updated in real-time. Consequently, the victor in future conflicts will not necessarily be the nation with the most expensive fighter jet, but the one that can maintain a resilient, high-volume industrial base capable of sustaining an ‘attrition-tolerant’ force that evolves faster than an adversary can target it.
Double-edged sword for smaller nations
For smaller nations like Sri Lanka, the arrival of this new military era offers a double-edged sword of strategic opportunity and profound vulnerability. Traditionally, small states were sidelined in the global arms race due to the prohibitive costs of ‘exquisite’ platforms like advanced fighter jets or missile destroyers, which often consumed unsustainable portions of a national budget. However, the shift toward ‘precise mass’ means that countries with limited resources can now develop significant deterrent capabilities through the localised production of low-cost, high-impact autonomous systems. By investing in software-defined defences and domestic drone manufacturing, a nation like Sri Lanka can achieve a level of coastal and territorial security that previously required a superpower’s investment. Not only that, but Sri Lanka can also develop into an export market for the new precise technology which has a wide demand from warring countries. Conversely, the democratisation of these ‘one-way’ technologies also means that non-state actors or regional adversaries can more easily threaten national infrastructure, forcing small nations to prioritise digital resilience and rapid technological adaptation over the maintenance of ageing, high-cost legacy hardware.
by Prof. M. W. Amarasiri de Silva
Features
Turning science into action: Prof. Gothamie Weerakoon calls out Biodiversity “Narratives”
By Ifham Nizam
In an exclusive interview with The Island, Ifham Nizam speaks with Professor Gothamie Weerakoon—Senior Curator and leading researcher on lichens and slime moulds at the Natural History Museum—who offers a candid, evidence-driven critique of corporate sustainability, global biodiversity governance, and the realities facing countries like Sri Lanka.
With over 450,000 specimens under her care and more than 100 new lichen species described through fieldwork across South and Southeast Asia, Prof. Weerakoon brings a rare combination of deep scientific expertise and frontline ecological observation.
Her message is clear: biodiversity loss is accelerating, and much of what is presented as “progress” remains largely unproven.
Excepts of the full interview
Q: The Natural History Museum speaks of turning science into action—what evidence is there that businesses are actually changing behaviour rather than rebranding sustainability narratives?
A:There is emerging evidence of change, but when biodiversity is the focus, the gap between action and narrative becomes much more visible.
Some companies are moving beyond broad commitments by measuring their impacts on ecosystems, setting targets to halt biodiversity loss, and reporting through frameworks like TNFD (Taskforce on Nature-related Financial Disclosures). But these are still the exceptions.
Real change becomes evident when businesses transform supply chains—eliminating deforestation-linked commodities, adopting regenerative agriculture, and working with local communities to restore ecosystems. Investment in habitat restoration and science-led, location-specific action also signals progress.
However, without clear baselines, measurable outcomes, and long-term commitment, biodiversity claims risk remaining abstract. At present, biodiversity is still more visible in corporate language than in verified outcomes.
Q: Are multinational corporations genuinely reducing their biodiversity footprint, or simply shifting environmental costs to developing countries like Sri Lanka?
A: The reality is mixed, but there is strong evidence that impacts are often being shifted rather than reduced.
Consumption in wealthier economies continues to drive habitat loss in biodiversity-rich regions. In countries like Sri Lanka, export-driven sectors, such as agriculture and rubber, contribute to deforestation and habitat fragmentation.
Companies may improve their environmental performance, domestically, while outsourcing ecological damage to regions with weaker regulation. So while awareness is increasing, most corporations are not yet reducing their global biodiversity footprint.
Q:How do you distinguish between credible biodiversity action and corporate greenwashing in real terms?
A:Credible action is science-based, measurable, and location-specific.
Companies must establish baselines, quantify their ecological impacts, and demonstrate real outcomes—such as reduced deforestation or restored habitats—verified independently.
Greenwashing, on the other hand, relies on vague terms like “nature-positive” without evidence. It often highlights small projects while ignoring major impacts, or depends on offsets instead of reducing harm.

Red Christmas lichens are not a species found in Arctic habitats. Instead, it is characteristic of tropical and subtropical regions, indeed found in the Sinharaja Forest Reserve, particularly in the Morningside and Pitadeniya areas
The key test is simple: can a company prove that biodiversity loss linked to its operations is declining in specific places over time? If not, it is likely narrative rather than action.
Q:Many biodiversity commitments remain voluntary—should there be legally binding global standards for corporate accountability?
A:Yes, there is a strong case for binding standards.
Voluntary commitments lead to uneven progress and make it difficult to separate genuine action from superficial claims. Legal frameworks could ensure consistent reporting, accountability, and minimum standards.
However, biodiversity is highly local. Any global system must allow for flexibility and support developing countries rather than imposing rigid rules.
Q:What sectors are currently causing the most irreversible biodiversity damage, and why are they still operating with limited restrictions?
A:The most damaging sectors include agriculture, forestry, mining, and fossil fuel extraction.
Agriculture—especially large-scale monocultures—drives deforestation and habitat loss. Mining and fossil fuels cause long-term ecological disruption, while marine ecosystems suffer from overfishing.
These sectors persist with limited restrictions because they are economically powerful, biodiversity loss is harder to quantify than carbon emissions, and global supply chains allow impacts to be outsourced. Regulation also remains fragmented and weakly enforced.
Q:In countries like Sri Lanka, development projects often override environmental concerns—how can science-based tools realistically influence political decision-making?
A:Science-based tools can make biodiversity loss visible and measurable.
Environmental impact assessments, ecological mapping, and predictive models allow policymakers to understand trade-offs clearly. When ecological risks are quantified, they become harder to ignore.
The key is integrating these tools into planning systems so environmental considerations are not optional, but a core part of decision-making.
- Phyllopsora species in Monatne forest of Sri Lanka
- Green Algal lichens are dominant in wet mountains in Sri Lanka
Q:Can biodiversity conservation truly coexist with large-scale infrastructure and energy projects?
A:Yes—but only if biodiversity is considered from the beginning.
Projects must be designed using science-based planning, avoiding sensitive ecosystems and incorporating mitigation strategies like wildlife corridors and habitat restoration.
Conservation and development are not inherently incompatible, but poor planning creates conflict.
Q:Are global biodiversity frameworks failing to address ground realities in developing economies?
They often fall short in implementation.
A:Global frameworks provide guidance, but must be adapted to local conditions. Developing countries face capacity constraints and competing priorities.
Success depends on building local scientific capacity, aligning goals with economic realities, and ensuring flexibility in how targets are applied.
Q:What role should governments play when businesses resist biodiversity regulations citing economic pressures?
A:Governments must act as regulators and enforcers.
They should establish clear legal standards, backed by monitoring and penalties. At the same time, incentives—such as green finance and technical support—can help businesses transition.
Economic arguments should not override ecological realities, especially when long-term costs of biodiversity loss are considered.
Q:Are financial institutions doing enough to penalise environmentally destructive investments?
A:Not yet. While awareness of biodiversity risk is increasing, short-term profits still dominate decision-making. ESG frameworks exist, but enforcement is weak.
Stronger systems are needed—binding criteria, independent audits, and better integration of ecological risk into financial decisions.
Q:How can local communities be given real decision-making power rather than token consultation?
A:Communities must be recognised as partners, not stakeholders.
Legal rights, participatory planning, and co-management systems are essential. Traditional knowledge should be integrated with scientific data.
Without real authority, consultation becomes symbolic rather than meaningful.
Q:What immediate, science-backed interventions can be implemented in Sri Lanka?
A:Practical steps include restoring mangroves, creating wildlife corridors, and community-led reforestation.
Using GIS mapping and monitoring systems can identify high-risk areas, while sustainable livelihood programmes reduce pressure on ecosystems.
These interventions must be evidence-based and locally adapted.
Q:How can policymakers protect biodiversity-rich regions from short-term exploitation?
A:Through zoning laws, protected areas, and mandatory environmental assessments.
Valuing ecosystem services in economic planning is also critical. When biodiversity is treated as an economic asset, it becomes harder to ignore.
Q:What mechanisms exist to hold corporations accountable when biodiversity damage crosses borders?
A:International agreements, supply chain regulations, and reporting frameworks like TNFD play a role.
Financial institutions, legal systems, and civil society also contribute to accountability. But enforcement across borders remains a major challenge.
Q:Is there sufficient transparency in corporate biodiversity reporting?
A:No—current systems are inconsistent and largely voluntary.
Many companies fail to quantify their impacts, and independent verification is limited. Without standardised metrics and audits, transparency remains inadequate.
Q:How can biodiversity be integrated into national economic planning without slowing growth?
A:By recognising that biodiversity supports economic resilience.
Nature-based solutions—such as mangrove restoration or sustainable agriculture—deliver both ecological and economic benefits.
Strategic planning can align conservation with development rather than treating them as opposing goals.
Q:What are the long-term economic risks of biodiversity loss in South Asia?
A: They are severe. Declining pollination, soil degradation, and fisheries collapse threaten food security. Loss of forests and wetlands increases disaster risks.
Ultimately, biodiversity loss undermines economic stability and increases vulnerability to climate shocks.
Q:How can science communication better influence public opinion and policy?
A: By making data accessible and relevant.
Visual tools, storytelling, and collaboration with media can translate complex science into actionable insights. Public engagement is essential for policy change.
Q:Are current conservation models too dependent on international funding?
A:Yes, and that creates vulnerability.
Long-term sustainability requires diversified funding—government support, private investment, and community-based initiatives.
Local ownership is key to lasting impact.
Q:Ultimately, who should bear the greatest responsibility for reversing biodiversity loss?
A:Responsibility is shared—but governments hold the greatest leverage.
They set the rules, enforce regulations, and shape economic systems. Corporations and consumers also play critical roles, but without strong governance, progress will remain limited.
Prof. Weerakoon’s assessment is both measured and uncompromising: biodiversity loss is no longer a distant ecological issue—it is an economic, political, and social crisis.
Aligned with the mission of the Natural History Museum, her message is clear: the future of conservation depends not on promises, but on verifiable, science-based action grounded in real ecosystems—not narratives.
Features
Looming shadow: How and why a distant war could threaten vitality of Sri Lankan healthcare
An Independent Freelance Correspondent
As the sun sets over the Indian Ocean, the tranquil beauty of Sri Lanka feels many a world away from the smoke, thunder, misery and deaths in the Middle East, taking place in the midst of a senseless war. Yet for all that, in our interconnected world, a butterfly might flit its wings in the Gulf, and a storm might eventually break over our own little paradise island, as a strange reversal of the status quo. However, the escalating conflict in the Middle East is no longer just a distant headline for Sri Lankans; it is an ominous cloud gathering that threatens the very backbone of our much-bandied social contract, our healthcare system.
While we often view war through the lens of geopolitics or rising oil prices, the “Ground Zero” of its impact in Sri Lanka may well be the hospital ward, the local dispensary, and the dinner tables of our most vulnerable citizens, just as much as it would impact on the healthcare professionals who are responsible for maintaining a well-oiled machine; the pun being intentional.
The Fuel Paradox: When Mobility Becomes a Luxury
Our health service runs on wheels as much as it does on training and wisdom. The entire system has to be supported by energy. The Middle East remains the lifeblood of our energy supply, and any disruption to the Strait of Hormuz would send immediate shockwaves to our fuel pumps. Lack of fuel, as well as skyrocketing prices of oil, would have a cascading detrimental effect on our health service.
For the average citizen, a spike in fuel prices is not just a “transport issue” but a miserable calamity that could become a noteworthy barrier to life-saving healthcare. When bus fares double and three-wheeler charges skyrocket, a mother in a rural village may think twice and even hesitate to take her feverish child to the nearest Base Hospital. In the calculus of poverty, the cost of the journey often outweighs the urgency of the ailment, until and most unfortunately, it sadly and tragically becomes too late.
Furthermore, our healthcare workers, the doctors, nurses, public health midwives, clerks, orderlies, and other grades of minor staff, are certainly not immune to the impacts of the fuel crisis. Unlike many top-tier officials of the rest of the public service, most medical staff rely on their own vehicles or public transport to reach their posts. If fuel becomes a rationed luxury, we risk a kind of inevitable “silent strike” where the healers simply cannot afford to commute to the hallowed places of healing. The other grades of staff mentioned are certainly no less important to run the machine, and they will also be at the receiving end of the fuel crisis and transport problems.
A Bitter Pill: The Private Sector Squeeze
While the state provides free healthcare, the private sector has long acted as a vital pressure valve for the national system. However, the conflict is rapidly tightening the screws here as well.
=The Price of Healing: Most of our medicines and vaccines are imported. With global shipping routes disrupted and “war risk” insurance premiums surging, the landed cost of a simple strip of a commonly used medicine or a vital course of antibiotics to clear a lung infection would climb disproportionately.
=The “In-Patient” Inflation: Private hospitals are energy-intensive hubs. From the electricity that powers life-support machines to the diesel that runs emergency generators, rising costs will most unfortunately have to be passed directly to the patient.
=Consultation Charges: As overheads, maintenance costs, staff salaries, and medical supplies spiral, even the renowned Private Hospitals, as well as even the most dedicated private practitioners, would find themselves forced to increase fees.
When the private sector becomes unaffordable, those patients migrate back to the already overstretched state hospitals, creating a “domino effect” of long queues and exhausted resources.
The Empty Plate: Nutrition as the First Line of Defence will be in danger
Perhaps, the most insidious impact of the Middle Eastern crisis is the one that happens at the grocery store leading to great difficulties in getting food into the table. Sri Lanka relies heavily on remittances from our workers in the Gulf and the robust export of our “black gold”- Ceylon Tea. The war has stalled tea exports to major markets like Iran and Iraq, costing the industry millions every week. Simultaneously, if our workers in the Middle East face displacement, the flow of foreign exchange into our country, which would benefit even the villagers, might just dry up.
When a family’s income drops, the first thing to be sacrificed is often the “quality” and even the quantity of the food that comes onto the table. We might see a return to starch-heavy, protein-poor diets. For a pregnant mother, this means anaemia and untold risks to the yet-to-be-born baby. For a growing young child, it means stunting and weakened immunity. For the elderly, it will mean increasing the frailty of old age. We are essentially “importing” a future health crisis of malnutrition that no amount of free medicine can easily fix.
The Supply Chain Shadow
Modern medicine is a “just-in-time” industry. Many of our specialised vaccines and a variegated plethora of treatments require a “cold chain” – a continuous refrigerated journey. With major Gulf air hubs facing disruptions, these temperature-sensitive medicines must be rerouted. This adds days to the journey and increases the risk of “spoilage.” A vaccine that loses its potency due to a shipping delay is not just a financial loss; it is a lost shield for a child and even, older and elderly people.
Sadly, just like the fuel situation, there have not been any worthwhile efforts to “stockpile” at least some of the essential medicines. Of course, unlike just storing fuel to stockpile, medicines have their own problems with shelf-life and expiry dates. It is indeed a vexing problem that might cause a major, tricky situation at some time in the future. The government is planning to issue medicines for two months from the clinics etc. One only hopes that the currently available stock could be used effectively without that initiative leading to a desperate shortage of essential drugs.
Navigating the Storm: Some Ways to Mitigate the Crisis
This author has brought to light some of the issues that we may see in the future. However, it is not an exhaustive or complete list of all possible consequences. There could be quite a few more. While the situation is grave at present, it is perhaps not unmanageable. To protect the vitality of our healthcare, we must adopt a “War Footing” of preparedness:
1. Fuel Priority for Healthcare: The government must establish a “Green Lane” for healthcare personnel and emergency vehicles, ensuring that they have subsidised or prioritised access to fuel to prevent service interruptions. This has to include the private healthcare personnel as well.
2. Strategic Buffer Stocks: We must move away from “just-in-time” imports and build a minimum 6-month buffer stock of essential medicines and vaccines. We need to utilise regional cooperation with neighbours like India to diversify supply routes.
3. Strengthening Primary Care: By investing in local dispensaries and public health midwives, we can treat ailments before they require expensive hospital stays, as well as extended forms of treatment, reducing the transport burden on patients.
4. Nutritional Safety Nets: Expanding school meal programmes and providing fortified food supplements to pregnant mothers can act as a firewall against the malnutrition that is likely to be caused by economic shocks.
5. Digital Health Integration: Expanding “telemedicine” can allow specialists to consult with rural patients remotely, saving both the doctor and the patient the high cost of travel.
A Call for Preparedness, but not a Harbinger of Panic
It is ever so easy to read these points and see a looming, tremendously gloomy fog that could envelop our revered Motherland in the not-too-distant future. However, from a clearer perspective, the purpose of this analysis is not for the writer to act as a prophet of doom, but for this enterprise to serve as a wake-up call for proactive management and to take all necessary steps, well in time, to avoid a catastrophe.
Our health service is the crown jewel of our nation. It has been built on the Herculean effort of generations who believed that health is definitely a right, and certainly not a privilege. To protect it, we must look beyond our borders and understand that the proverb “a stitch in time saves nine” is what we need now. We must strengthen our social safety nets before the ripples of the Middle Eastern war become a tidal wave that hits our shores. We need to act purposefully now, to be able to steadfastly cushion whatever blows that might come our way in the future.
This is not a forecast of a disaster that is one-hundred per cent certain to occur. In stark contrast, it is meant to be a sober and sombre analysis of possible ramifications that we must prepare for today, to save the lives of our people and look after their health tomorrow.
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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