Features

NU’S SOCIAL MILIEU

Published

11 months ago

2025/05/18

Thilina Walpola

Beeralu lace-makers

CHAPTER II

(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)

I am proud of my humble beginnings. My earliest memories are of my parents, humble people. My father was in charge of the resthouse at Hambantota and held the conferred rank of arachchi, and later he farmed a rather large but unproductive extent of paddy land.

(N.U. Jayawardena, interview with Roshan Pieris, 1987)

Religious Background

NU’s parents, born in the 19th century, were essentially people of the South who had never travelled beyond the Hambantota and Matara districts, until their old age when they moved to Colombo. They were devout Buddhists who had lived through the Buddhist Revival Movement in Sri Lanka, which occurred from the middle of the 19th century onward. The South also had a regional consciousness as being the “Gods’ own country” (deviyange rata), since Kataragama, the pilgrimage site of Buddhists and Hindus, was in the region.

There was also a historic memory of former greatness in the South of Sri Lanka. The people of the Matara and Hambantota districts were steeped in the early history of the Ruhuna region, when Tissamaharama was a powerful kingdom associated especially with King Dutugemunu (c.100 BC), his father King Kavantissa and mother Vihara Maha Devi. The region abounds in important historic and religious sites, in places such as Mulkirigala, Tissamaharama, Kirinde, Sithulpawwa and Kataragama. In Devundara (Dondra) was the ancient Vishnu devale, revered by both Hindus and Buddhists – with its rituals and annual perahera (procession).

Buddhist monk with acolytes

An important challenge to the colonial establishment had come from the Buddhists, who opposed Christianity as being the religion of the foreign rulers and challenged Christian missionaries, who dominated education. The Buddhist Revival Movement of the 19^th and early 20th centuries was concerned with religious and national identity, also promoting modern education and temperance in the context of Buddhism. Support for it came from the new class of Sinhala Buddhist merchants who had earlier made fortunes in trade, the liquor business, plantations and graphite.

Many Buddhists from rural areas and small towns were also galvanized into supporting Buddhist grievances and demands. Some Buddhist revivalists – especially Anagarika Dharmapala and Colonel Henry Olcott – travelled by cart from village to village all over the South, promoting a resurgence of Buddhism and collecting funds for Buddhist schools.

Although the various communities had lived harmoniously, there were some occasional rumblings of religious discord. The Sinhala Buddhists thought of themselves as ‘sons of the soil.’ There were clashes in Colombo in 1883, when there was conflict between Buddhists and Catholics over Easter celebrations. In 1915, a more serious clash broke out between Buddhists and Muslims, beginning in Gampola and quickly spreading to other parts of the island. These and other flare-ups were a reflection of both the religious and economic discord of the period.

School drill

The young NU would have been keenly aware of the existence in the Hambantota area of both Buddhists and Muslims. Leonard Woolf had reported that “the races and religions have lived amicably side by side,” but that there were also occasional outbursts. Woolf records a riot occurring in Hambantota town in May 1911, when, allegedly, the drumming from a Buddhist procession outside the mosque was objected to by Muslims, resulting in a fracas.

Woolf (1962, pp.241-42) relates how he settled the matter: “I fined one side for disturbing a religious procession and the other for tom-tom beating without a licence, the Mohammedans Rs. 35 and the Buddhists Rs. 60.” Adding that the penalties were light, he said that it was done “as a matter of expedience” in order to allow the “religious ill-feeling to die out at once” (ibid). According to Woolf, “even in the quietest place, peace was precarious” (1961, p.242).

NU’s elder sister Rosalind witnessed this event, and years later recalled to her daughter Chandrani, how at the age of six she had the frightening experience of peering through the door into the street and seeing the commotion and bloodshed. NU would have been only three at the time. Even if he did not recall this riot, he may have been aware of the more widespread riots between the Sinhala and Muslim communities that occurred later in 1915.

Education and Illiteracy

During a period of expanding education in the early 20th century, the Hambantota district (as noted in Chapter 1- https://island.lk/unchanging-hambantota/), was among the least-developed in the island. The Superintendent of the 1911 Census, E.B. Denham, referred to the district, in terms of literacy, as “undoubtedly the most backward Low-country District during the decade” (Denham, 1912, p.407, emphasis added).

Transitions in dress reflecting two cultures

Among the Sinhala community of Hambantota, the literacy figures in 1901 were 27% for males, but only 1.7% for females; and by 1911, the males were still only 31% literate, and the females, 2.2%. Even in the more developed neighbouring districts, Sinhala female literacy was low. For example, the Matara district had 7% female literacy in 1911, while the Galle district rate was 14% (ibid, pp.404-7). By contrast, in the same year, 26.8% of women in Colombo were literate (ibid, p.412).

NU, who was very attached to his mother, frequently referred to her inability to read and write. Of his mother, who was from Devundara in the Matara district, he said:

My mother was very warm-hearted. She was not literate. She could not even sign her own name. But she created for her children a loving home where all of us were equally important and each one of us received the same measure of concern and affection. She had the time to spend with us, and it was this aspect of my home life that made me, years later, when I married, spend time with my children even though I was often busy and tired, because I wanted them to feel that I was concerned about every aspect of their lives. (interview by Manel Abhayaratne)

NU’s daughter Neiliya remembers her paternal grandmother as a ‘carbon copy’ of her own mother:

The only difference was that the former could neither read nor write. She was, however, the moving spirit behind her family and children, seven of whom lived into their eighties and beyond. (Neiliya Perera,2006)

In spite of her illiteracy, NU’s mother had a sharp mind and, according to all accounts, was the brains in the family. Thrifty and enterprising, she lent money informally, on the security of gold sovereigns, to women of the neighbourhood, many of whom were Muslim. Her method of calculation was based on a measurement of time from one poya (full-moon) day to the next. She would mentally calculate the interest and would waive part of it if the item was redeemed before the end of this period (Chandrani Jayawardena, quoting her mother’s recollections). This was not uncommon, as women from low-income groups had, and continue to have, their own means of survival, which could also include the seettu (a system of saving), lace-making, coir-spinning, mat-weaving, and other income- generating small ventures.

The Consciousness of Caste

In Sri Lanka, caste and kinship networks – originally based on occupation – formed the basis of society, reinforced by traditional obligations to relatives. Southern Sri Lanka was a multi-caste region where a range of Sinhala castes were present. There were, however, clusters of persons belonging to specific castes who, historically, were concentrated in certain areas. The Durava caste, to which NU’s parents belonged, was one of the smaller but more important castes of the Southern and Western provinces.

In the 1824 Census, in which caste was recorded for the first time, the Durava were reported as forming around 5.6% of the low-country Sinhala population, with pockets of the Durava caste in specific areas – Tangalle 9.5%, Colombo 4.7%, Galle 3.7% and Chilaw 4.1% (Ryan, 1953, p.264). During the 19th century, however, changes took place with the development of the colonial economy and the increased migration of people to Colombo in search of employment. Bryce Ryan, writing in 1953, noted that the economic backgrounds among the Durava ranged from “rich to very poor” in urban areas, but the majority, in rural areas, were “peasant cultivators and labourers.”

. Humorous depictions of the “Resthouse experience,”

From the time of Dutch occupation onwards, this caste had moved from traditional occupations at village level into other areas of activity available under the colonial economy, especially benefiting from education, economic opportunities and urban expansion during British rule.

By the early 20th century, a significant number of the Durava were part of the middle and lower- middle class of Colombo. Through the education process, they qualified for government positions in clerical and other white-collar employment, and many became lawyers, doctors, teachers and academics.

In a caste- and class-conscious society, the family of NU (like many others of the region) were aware of the limitations of caste-based rural life and would seek to move into the modern world where status was judged on education, merit and achievement, and not solely on caste.

Inevitably, bright males in the family were supported and financed by relatives, so that they could achieve success and thereby elevate the status of the whole family. The key to success was education in the English language, and studious boys often moved from small missionary or government schools to the larger, more prestigious schools in the provincial capitals, and even on to major schools in Colombo, which provided a superior academic education.

Chandrani and her mother Rosalind, NU’s elder sister

Verandah of Hambantota Resthouse

The Resthouse Culture

At the time of NU’s birth, his father U.J. Diyonis was the resthouse keeper at Hambantota. He also possessed a buggy cart and some acres of paddy land in Tangalle. It had been his wife’s uncle, Richard Gunasekera, a clerk to the District Mudaliyar of Magampattu, who had advised him to apply for the post. Diyonis, of an independent frame of mind, was also, as NU’s daughter Neiliya describes him: “a man who had a similar temperament to my father, but without his brilliance.” By ‘temperament,’ she was referring to Diyonis’ and NU’s quick temper and impatience.

Resthouses, which were a colonial innovation, served as places where government officials could lodge during their field circuits. They were located throughout the island, mainly along public roads – often at attractive sites. In 1911 there were 193 resthouses (Denham, 1912, p.5). Resthouses were also used by a few local residents who could afford them, to spend a quiet holiday or as a place of sojourn during a long journey (de Zoysa manuscript, p.42). The post of resthouse keeper was a respected one, usually being conferred the title of arachchi. The job carried the responsibility of providing congenial accommodation and food, mostly for colonial officials and tourists.

: NU’a father, UJ Diyonis

: NU’s mother, Gajawirage Podinona

In their architecture, resthouses generally conformed to a set style. A partially enclosed verandah ran along its entire length; from this, doors led to the dining room in the centre, and to bedrooms on either side. Behind the dining room was a space that served as a reception room, which also had a liquor bar. The kitchen and the rooms of the waiters and other employees were still further toward the back (de Zoysa manuscript, p.42). The professional attributes of a resthouse keeper were civility, knowledge of English sufficient to communicate with British officials or other visitors, and an ability to ensure their comfortable stay, as well as to handle the staff under his authority.

Diyonis, on these counts, was much praised by the visitors to his resthouse, which overlooked the beautiful bay of Hambantota. In the course of his work, he had to show courtesy, and provide efficient service, clean accommodation, good western and local food, and to be deferential to foreign guests, colonial bureaucrats and important locals who visited the resthouse. Leonard Woolf, who spent three years in Hambantota – living in the AGA’s house near the resthouse – would have been a frequent patron with his guests, interacting closely with U.J. Diyonis. (1. Interestingly, decades later, while studying in Britain,

NU’s son Lal interviewed Woolf several times on British land policy and the chena system of cultivation.)

In those days of strict dress codes and protocol, the personal appearance and grooming of the resthouse staff would have been important. From many accounts, both NU’s mother and father were conscious about their appearance, and paid great attention to detail – traits NU shared. NU’s daughter Neiliya recalls the great pride that her grandfather Diyonis took in his appearance, and how he was always dressed in a white cloth and coat with gold buttons.

Sinhala women dressed in typical ‘southern’ style

Neiliya also describes how her grandmother would always be immaculately dressed in a white blouse with wrist-length sleeves styled in the southern fashion, with delicate lace-inset panels. With this she would wear a light-coloured cloth, which would ‘glisten like silk.’ Being practical, her grandmother would wear a darker cloth when doing housework, but would change into a better cloth when receiving guests. Confirmation of this fastidiousness on her grandmother’s part, as regards her person and abode, can be gleaned from Neiliya’s interesting childhood impression:

[My grandparents’] house itself was spotlessly clean, the cement floor gleaming, just like my grandmother, who was always dressed in a white blouse, edged with lace and with detachable gold buttons down the front and a self-coloured cloth.

Sri Lankan ‘Moor’

For those who knew or encountered NU in his later life, it is apparent that he reflected this upbringing. Many who met him were struck by his meticulousness and disciplined approach to his physical appearance, grooming and dress, in his surroundings and in his work. Indeed, many of those who came into his presence would witness how his eye would immediately hone in on anything out of place. He was an extremely orderly person who liked everything in its place, and many people have remarked upon the style and grace in which he entertained people at his home or in his office.

One can trace these qualities in NU back to his childhood. Being an observant and bright child, NU would have watched all the comings and goings at the resthouse, and the organizational problems his father coped with, including catering, accounting, and keeping the system running efficiently. He would have keenly watched the colonial officials, foreign tourists and dignitaries and members of the local elite – their lifestyles, mannerisms and eating and drinking habits – and had more than a glimpse of how the privileged lived.

His father may have shown him the names in the visitors’ book; and NU probably decided, early in life, that he would emancipate himself from his social origins and become part of the elite whom he had observed at close quarters in his father’s place of work. But he did not have many illusions about the difficulty of achieving such ambitions. The gulf between ‘them’ and ‘us’ was wide, and he would have sensed that the one possibility of social mobility and of finding a way out of Hambantota was through education.

Out of the disparate and contradictory tendencies, which were produced during colonial rule, two cultures developed in Sri Lankan society, which were not mutually exclusive. One, disdainful of colonial influence, emphasized traditional values and loyalty to ethnic, caste and kinship group and the extended family.

Hambantota coastline with boats

The other, a modernizing culture, required a rational worldview, western education, more individualism and knowledge of English. The educated youth embodied these different trends in their outlook. They looked forward and back. They wanted to modernize and to better themselves economically and socially. The majority looked for white-collar jobs, a few gaining membership in prestigious professions.

‘Modernization’ was conceived by them in the image of the colonial rulers (though those rulers never accepted them as their social equals). Yet, those who wanted to move on were also, like the mass of society, rooted in the past.

It was an interesting case of the coexistence of tradition and modernity, and a hybrid ‘two-culture’ society. NU mirrored this combined development. He was a man of two worlds – a Sinhala Buddhist, and a Durava, but educated in English – conforming in his later life to a westernized lifestyle and universalistic outlook, while also remaining conscious of ethno-religious and caste issues. An Indian writer once said that, people in India may have left the village, but the village never left them.

This was true of many Sri Lankans from a rural background, who never forgot their roots and held onto certain traditional practices, one of them being the obligation to help family members and relations. There are many anecdotes that show how, throughout his life, NU engaged in the traditional practice of helping others: his parents, sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews, along with many others who appealed to him for assistance.

By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda

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Features

The Digital Pulse: How AI is redefining health care in Sri Lanka?

Published

5 hours ago

2026/04/20

Thilina Walpola

A quiet yet profound shift is underway in American healthcare, and its implications extend far beyond the United States’ borders. A recent Associated Press report describes a scene that would have seemed improbable, even five years ago: a woman in Texas, experiencing side effects from a weightloss injection, does not call her doctor, visit a clinic, or even search Google. Instead, she opens her phone and consults ChatGPT. She tells the system how she feels, describes her symptoms, and receives an instant explanation. This behaviour, once the domain of early adopters and technology enthusiasts, has now entered the mainstream. A West Health–Gallup poll confirms that nearly onequarter of American adults used an AI tool for health information or advice in the previous month. For a country with one of the world’s most expensive and fragmented healthcare systems, this shift is not merely a technological curiosity. It is a sign of the public searching for speed, clarity, and affordability in a system that often fails to provide any of these.

Sri Lanka, though vastly different in scale, culture, and resources, is not insulated from this global transformation. If anything, the pressures that drive Americans toward AI—long wait times, high costs, difficulty accessing specialists—are even more acute in our own health system. The difference is that Sri Lanka is only beginning to experience the cultural and institutional adjustments that accompany widespread AI use. Yet the trajectory is unmistakable. What is happening in the United States today is almost certainly a preview of what will happen here tomorrow in Sri Lanka, though in a form shaped by our own social realities, linguistic diversity, and healthcare traditions.

The American experience shows that AI is becoming the new gateway to health information. As Dr. Karandeep Singh of UC San Diego observes, AI tools now function as an improved version of the old Google search. Instead of sifting through dozens of links, users receive a concise, conversational summary tailored to their question. This is precisely the kind of convenience that Sri Lankans, too, will find irresistible. In a country where a single specialist appointment can require hours of travel, waiting, and uncertainty, the appeal of an instant, alwaysavailable digital assistant is obvious. The idea that one could ask a question about a rash, a fever, a medication side effect, or a lab report and receive an immediate explanation—without navigating hospital queues or private consultation fees—will inevitably attract public interest. For example, one of my friends, who was with me in school, called me and said he is prescribed Linavic, a drug for type 2 diabetes. I told him that, as it is not widely known in the USA, to give me the generic name. He searched ChatGPT and told me it is called Tradjenta, which is widely available in the USA as a prescription drug for type 2 diabetes.

But Sri Lanka’s path will not be identical to America’s. Our adoption of AI in healthcare is emerging through institutions rather than individuals. Nawaloka Hospitals has already introduced AI-powered chatbots, including NASHA, an OPD assistant capable of guiding patients through symptom assessment and basic triage. This is a significant development because it signals that Sri Lankan hospitals are preparing for a future in which AI is not an optional addon but a core part of patient interaction. The government’s draft National AI Strategy reinforces this direction by identifying healthcare as a priority sector and emphasising responsible, transparent, and safe deployment. Academic bodies, such as the Sri Lanka Medical Association, have also begun training clinicians to understand and work alongside AI systems. These are early but important steps, suggesting that Sri Lanka is building the professional ecosystem needed for safe AI integration.

Yet, the public’s relationship with AI remains limited. Unlike in the United States, where consumers independently experiment with tools like ChatGPT, Sri Lankans tend to rely on doctors as the primary source of authority. Digital literacy varies widely, especially outside urban centres. Sinhala and Tamilcapable AI tools are still developing. And our society has a long history of health misinformation spreading rapidly through social media, from miracle cures to conspiracy theories. Without careful regulation and public education, AI could amplify these risks rather than reduce them. The danger is not that AI will replace doctors, but that poorly informed users may treat AI outputs as definitive diagnoses, bypassing professional care when it is urgently needed.

At the same time, Sri Lankans’ lived experiences reveal why AI will inevitably become part of the healthseeking landscape. Anyone who has visited the outpatient department of a major government hospital knows the reality: queues forming before dawn, patients clutching files and prescriptions, and overworked medical officers trying to see hundreds of cases in a single shift. In rural areas, the situation is even more challenging. A villager in Monaragala or Mullaitivu may have to travel hours to see a specialist, often relying on neighbours or family for transport. Many postpone care simply because they are unsure whether a symptom is serious enough to justify the journey. For such individuals, an AI-based triage tool—available on a basic smartphone, in Sinhala or Tamil—could be transformative. It could help them decide whether to seek immediate care, wait for the next clinic day, or manage the issue at home.

Sri Lanka’s private healthcare sector, too, is ripe for AI integration. Private hospitals are increasingly turning to digital systems for appointment scheduling, lab report delivery, and patient communication. Anyone who has waited for hours at a private OPD, despite having an appointment, knows the frustration. AI-driven systems could help streamline patient flow, predict peak times, and reduce bottlenecks. They could also assist doctors by summarising patient histories, flagging potential drug interactions, and providing evidencebased guidelines. For patients, AI could offer explanations of lab results in simple language, reducing anxiety and improving understanding.

There are already glimpses of this future. Some Sri Lankan patients, especially younger urban professionals, quietly admit that they use AI tools to interpret their blood tests before seeing a doctor.

Others use AI to understand the side effects of medications prescribed to them. Parents use AI to check whether a child’s fever pattern is typical or concerning. Migrant workers, returning home for short visits, use AI to prepare questions for their doctors, ensuring they make the most of limited consultation time. These behaviours mirror the early stages of the American trend, though on a smaller scale.

Sri Lanka’s cultural context will shape how AI is used. Our society places great trust in doctors, often viewing them as authoritative figures whose word should not be questioned. This trust is a strength, but it can also discourage patients from seeking information independently. AI has the potential to shift this dynamic—not by undermining doctors, but by empowering patients to participate more actively in their own care. A patient who understands their condition is better able to follow treatment plans, ask relevant questions, and recognise warning signs. AI can support this empowerment, provided it is used responsibly.

The deeper question is not whether Sri Lanka will adopt AI in healthcare, but how. The American example shows both the promise and the peril. AI can democratise access to information, reduce anxiety, and empower patients. But it can also mislead, oversimplify, or create false confidence. The challenge for Sri Lanka is to build a culture of responsible use—one that recognises AI as a tool, not a substitute for clinical judgment. Hospitals must ensure accuracy and transparency. Regulators must set standards. And the public must learn to treat AI as a guide, not a guru.

Sri Lanka has an opportunity to leapfrog. By studying the American experience, we can avoid its pitfalls and adopt its strengths. We can design AI systems that respect our linguistic diversity, our cultural habits, and our healthcare realities. We can integrate AI into hospitals in ways that enhance, rather than erode, the doctor-patient relationship. And we can prepare our citizens to use these tools wisely, with curiosity but also with caution.

The transformation is already underway. It will accelerate whether we prepare for it or not. The question for Sri Lanka is whether we will shape this future deliberately or allow it to shape us by default. The American shift toward AImediated healthcare is a reminder that technology does not wait for societies to catch up. It moves forward, and nations must decide whether to follow passively or lead thoughtfully. Sri Lanka, with its strong public health tradition and growing technological ambition, has every reason to choose the latter.

by Prof Amarasiri de Silva

Features

Not a dog barked

Published

5 hours ago

2026/04/20

Thilina Walpola

I began running on the beach after a fall on a broken pavement left me with a head injury and a surgically repaired eyebrow. Mount Lavinia beach, world‑famous and crowded, especially on Sundays, is only a seven‑minute walk from home, so it became the obvious place for my rehabilitation jogs.

On my first day, my wife, a true Mount Lavinia girl, accompanied me. Though we’ve been married for over 40 years, this was the first time I had ever jogged on the beach. She practically shepherded me there and watched from a safe distance as I made my way towards the Wellawatte breakwater. Dogs were everywhere: some strays, some with collars. I’m not usually afraid of dogs, so I ran past them confidently. Then one fellow barked sharply, making me stop. He advanced even after I stood still. I bent down, picked up some sand, and only then did he retreat, still protesting loudly. On my return run, he repeated the performance.

The next time, I carried a stick. The beach was quiet, perhaps my friend had taken the day off. But on the third day he was back, barking as usual. I showed him the stick and continued. Further along, more dogs barked, and I repeated the ritual. Soon I found myself growing jittery, even numb, whenever I approached a dog. Jogging was no longer comfortable.

My elder daughter, an ardent animal lover who keeps two dogs and wanting to have more, suggested bribery, specifically, biscuits. So, on my next run, I filled my pocket with them. When the usual culprit appeared, I tossed him a biscuit before he could bark. He sniffed suspiciously, then ate it. I jogged on. The rest of the “orchestra” received similar treatment and promptly forgot to bark. Not a dog barked the entire run, or on my way back.

Some groups had five or six dogs, but bribing the noisiest one was enough to quieten the rest. Soon they grew used to me running close to them, and the biscuits made me a trusted friend. These round little sugary crackers turned out to be the perfect currency for seemingly aggressive but essentially harmless dogs, a fact well known to my daughter, Dr. Honda Hitha, but a revelation to me.

One day, a friendly dog decided to escort me home. After receiving his biscuit, he lingered near our gate before returning to the beach. Over time, the number of escorts grew until I found myself flanked by about 10 canine disciples. They became my strength instead of a source of fear. They were darlings. Unlike humans, their affection, even if won initially with biscuits, soon became unconditional.

They still accompany me home, whether or not they receive a treat. Bless them! May they be born human in their next lives, perhaps the only way our wicked world can become a better place.

by Dr. M. M. Janapriya

Features

It’s Israel and US that need a regime change

Published

5 hours ago

2026/04/20

Thilina Walpola

Netanyahu and Trump

If there is one country that urgently needs a regime change it is Israel. The whole world is suffering and thousands of people, including children and women, are dying due to Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s political survival strategy. He needs the war to avoid going to jail and also certain defeat at the next elections. The corruption and other charges against him, if proved, would send him to jail. He had asked the Israel President for a pardon and his friend Trump also has written to the President, on his behalf.

Netanyahu is able to commit genocide in Gaza with impunity because the US backs him to the hilt, economically, politically, militarily and also in the United Nations. Without all this, Israel will not be able to fight its many wars and pursue its “Greater Israel” project in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, and also weaken the countries that oppose its grand plan, such as Iran, Yemen and Turkey. The US gives military aid to Israel, worth USD 3.8 bn, annually, which is used in these genocidal wars and expansionist projects. The US is, therefore, complicit in all these war crimes.

US presidents, beginning from Eisenhower (1950) to Joe Biden (2022), expressed displeasure at Israeli aggression. Ronald Reagan halted the shipment of cluster artillery shells, in 1982, over concerns about their use against civilians in Lebanon, and delayed the delivery of F-16 warplanes until Israel withdrew from Lebanon. George H.W. Bush (1990s) postponed $10 billion in loan guarantees in 1991 to pressure Israel to stop building settlements in the West Bank and to attend the Madrid peace conference. Barack Obama frequently criticised Israeli settlement expansion and, in the final days of his term, withheld a US UN Security Council veto on a resolution regarding settlements. Joe Biden (2020s) threatened to withhold military aid if Israel launched a major offensive in Rafah during the 2024 conflict in Gaza, pausing a shipment of heavy bombs. Most of these presidents had been in favour of the two state solution for the Palestine problem as well.

Trump abandoned these longstanding US policies on Israel that were upheld by Obama and later restored by Biden. Significant and far-reaching changes, included recognising Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, moving the embassy, declaring settlements not inherently illegal, and recognising Golan Heights, which belonged to Syria, as part of Israel sovereignty. These evil deeds of Trump seem to have boomeranged on him as he battles to extricate himself from a war forced on him by Israel, which has resulted in enormous economic and political, not to mention military, losses for the US and Trump. Consequently Israel, in the eyes of many leading political commentators, is now a liability for the US.

How this war was started reveals the dastardly and barbaric mentality of Netanyahu and Trump. The US and Iran were engaged in negotiations, with the mediation of Oman, to resolve their differences, and on 26 February, 2026, the Foreign Minister of Iran stated that a historical agreement with the US was about to be entered into and, the following day, Oman corroborated this announcement. Iran apparently had agreed that its nuclear programme could be brought under the surveillance of the International Atomic Energy Agency. Surprisingly on 28 February, 2026, Israel and the US attacked Iran, Trump saying that it posed a nuclear threat to the US! Oman said it was “dismayed” and the Iranian Foreign Minister said it was a “betrayal”. Obviously, Trump, who is under obligation to the Jewish lobby, which had funded his election campaign, had been drawn into the war. The Epstein files issue may have pushed Trump across the threshold. Iran’s response was calculated and appropriate. Trump says he will obliterate the Iranian civilisation in one night but soon agrees to have negotiations with Iran, in Islamabad.

However, Netanyahu cannot afford an end to the war he started to save his own skin. He goes ahead and drops 100 bombs in 10 minutes on Lebanon, killing 254 civilians, including children. The massacre in Lebanon continues with Israel pushing towards the Litani river in an attempt to annex southern Lebanon. Israel disqualifies itself not only as a reliable ally but also as an honourable member of the world community by having leaders of the calibre of Netanyahu. Israel is fast becoming internationally isolated, according to experts like Professors Robert Pape, John Measheimier, Richard Wolff, Jeffrey Sachs and Yanis Varonfakis. And these experts are of the view that if Israel continues its aggressive approach and expansionist policy, disregarding the historical facts of its origin and the Palestine problem, it will implode and destroy itself.

Israel must face the reality that Iran has emerged stronger after the war and may have control over the Strait of Hormuz and may even force the US out of the region. Israel, under Netanyahu, may not be willing to acknowledge these facts, but the people in the US must realise that it is not in their national interests to have Israel as an indispensable ally. This war is very unpopular in the US not entirely due to the economic impact but the extremely atrocious way it has been prosecuted by Israel and also the equally horrendous threats made by the US against Iran. It is also very unpopular among the US allies who bluntly refused to join or even approve it. Australia, Japan and South Korea, though far removed from the theatre of war, seem to be pretty angry about the whole thing, as they are badly affected by the economic impact of the war. They may be concerned about the brutality of Israel, and the degree of support and approval it gets from the US.

Those who have significantly gained from the war may be Russia who could have a windfall on their oil sales, and China who could quietly weave its diplomatic network throughout the Middle East and watch the decline of US influence in the region. Saudi Arabia and UAE, two countries bombed by Iran, have already started a dialogue with Iran. These developments may hasten the emergence of the new world order, spearheaded by China.

The war, that was started by Netanyahu, with a willing Trump, seems to have backfired on them, with both facing a hostile world and a fast changing geopolitical global situation. Trump’s MAGA project was aimed at quelling the growth of the new world order that had China and Russia at the head. He attempted to hit Russia with sanctions but failed. He tried to curb China with tariffs but failed. Denying oil supplies to China was attempted by kidnapping the Venezuelan President. China’s monopoly on rare earth minerals was a headache to Trump and he proposes to annex Canada and Greenland which have rich deposits of these elements. War on Iran was another opportunity to do a regime change and get control over that country and its oil. He threatened to wipe out Iran saying that “the civilization would die tomorrow night”, only a psychopathic megalomaniac could make such utterances , not a president of the US. Fortunately, the changing world order would not allow Trump to achieve any of his crazy goals.

Netanyahu inadvertently may have hastened his own downfall by starting a war without realising that the global geopolitics have changed and he cannot have his way even with the full backing of Trump. Both Israel and the US need a regime change if the world is to have peace.

by N. A. de S. Amaratunga