Features

NU’S SOCIAL MILIEU

Published

12 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

Lunatics of genius

Published

20 hours ago

2026/05/15

Thilina Walpola

Brahms and Simon

Tales of Mystery and Suspense 2

A very different sort of murder mystery today, one of the few intended to provide laughter too. Written in the thirties, it deals with a murder during a ballet, its title being A Bullet at the Ballet. It was a collaborative effort by Caryl Brahms and S J Simon, to whom I was introduced nearly half a century ago by Robert Scoble, the friend with whom I have discussed and shared books more than with anyone else.

Brahms was a ballet critic whose parents were Jews who had emigrated to Britain from Turkey while Simon was born in Manchuria in 1904 to a White Russian Jewish family, and then ended up in England, where he was renowned as an expert on bridge.

Having been fellow lodgers in London, they wrote together for newspapers and then tried out a novel. A Bullet in the Ballet, published in 1937, was an instant success, and over the next few years they published a couple of sequels, involving the Ballet Stroganoff, and the detective Adam Quill, who was tasked with investigating the first murder.

Brahms and Simon

In Robert’s Books and other reading around the world, published by Godage & Bros a few years back, I mentioned the first of these and also what then entertained me most, when I read these books in his luxurious flat in Chidlom Place in Bangkok, No Bed for Bacon, a romp through the days of Queen Elizabeth. Historical absurdities were their other forte, but in this series, I will confine myself to the three books that feature Quill, and the gloriously dotty Ballet Stroganoff.

It is owned by the impresario Vladimir Stroganoff, whose motley crew includes the once renowned ballerina Arenskaya, who is now his trainer, and the avant garde composer Nicolas Nevajno, who wants anyone, as he meets them, ‘to schange me small scheque’. The dancers are less memorable, except that two of them are the murder victims, both when dancing the title role in ‘Petroushka’. Neither Anton Palook nor Pavel Bunia was especially popular, and Quill was on the point of arresting the latter for the murder of the former when, having put it off at Stroganoff’s request so that he could dance the title role, the suspect was killed in the course of the ballet.

Both before and after the second murder, Quill is confronted with multiple motives, multiple means and multiple opportunities, to cite the formula in the Detective’s Handbook he has studied. Palook for instance had affairs with lots of girls but had recently taken up with the homosexual Pavel, whose lover, his dresser Serge Appelsinne, was profoundly jealous. The young dancers who performed brilliantly in the final performance of Petroushka, with which the novel ends, were also involved, in that Palook had been friendly towards Kasha Ranevsky, making Pavel jealous; and the ballerina Rubinska, involved with Palook, had tried to wean him away from Pavel, an appeal Pavel may have heard, after which she met Palook again just before he died, and he had said he was sick of being chased since his affairs were never lasting.

Preposterous intricacies one might have thought, had I not come across similar exchanges when we hosted the London City Ballet in Sri Lanka in 1985 on a British Council tour. Brahms and Simon simply push everything well over the top, with the characters pursuing their own obsessions without reference to the predilections, let alone the obsessions, of the others, all of which makes for high drama at a cracking pace.

But in dwelling at length on the plot of this first Brahms and Simon novel, I have omitted what perhaps provides the most zest to the plot, the constant bickering between Stroganoff and his orchestra, his efforts to avoid his relentlessly talkative Secretary, the endless stream of catch phrases, such as the Wiskyansoda Stroganoff offers his visitors, only to find there is none, just Russian tea, or the vigilant mothers determined to bag the best roles for their daughters.

Then there is Arenskaya, who flirts with the incredibly handsome Quill, and turns out to have had an affair years back with his boss, the usually grumpy Snarl, who softens surprisingly when he comes to a performance. And her husband, Puthyk, who was not at all jealous it seemed of her having had an affair with Palook, reminisces endlessly of his own wonderful performances in the past, though now at most he can only be used in crowd scenes.

Quill – and the ubiquitous press – meanwhile discover that a third Petroushka had died while playing the role, in Paris, before the two deaths in London. He had been found dead in his dressing room, and suicide had been the verdict, but now it was assumed that he too had been murdered, and there was thought to be a jinx on anyone dancing the title role. But Stroganoff was determined to go ahead with the gala performance he had planned, for which he hoped Benois, who had been involved in the original production with Njinsky, would come.

Though it was increasingly clear Benois would not appear, with tickets selling like hot cakes, in anticipation of a death, there was no way Stroganoff would cancel the performance. And his great rival Lord Buttonhooke, the newspaper proprietor, who it was rumoured wanted to start a ballet and had persuaded Palook to come over to him, had headlines about another murder all ready as the curtain rose.

Rubinskaya had earlier begged Quill to arrest Ranevsky, who was to dance the roll, as the only way of saving him, but there is no reason to do this, and so the performance does happen, with inspired performances by both of them. And, so, the murderer, who could not bear to have the role traduced, refrains from killing Ranevsky, and confesses to the earlier crimes. ‘Lord Buttonhooke strode from the theatre, a disappointed man’.

But that is not the end, for there is an epilogue in which Stroganoff writes to Quill to plead for kindness to ‘not an assassin, but an artist, that you have put in that pretty home in Sussex’. The letter has other elements that take up themes from the book, such as a new ballet by Nevajno, with ‘a scene where the corps de ballet is shot with a machine-gun. London will be shaken.’ And he will not tell Kasha and Rubinska that they dance better every day ‘lest their mother ask for bigger contracts’.

It was no wonder that the book was a triumph. The ballet scenes, if brilliantly exaggerated, did create a sense of how such spectacles were created, the murder mystery was full of suspense with the two deaths – and the discovery of another, treated earlier as suicide – well paced, and the climax when the ballet ends without another murder was gripping.

Features

Mysterious Death of United Nations Secretary General Hammarskjöld

Published

20 hours ago

2026/05/15

Thilina Walpola

Wrekage

LEST WE FORGET – IV

Dag Hjalmar Agne Carl Hammarskjöld

(‘DH’ for short) was appointed Secretary-General of the United Nations in April 1953, when he was 47 years old. He was a member of an aristocratic Swedish family, a diplomat and reformer, in whom the Western world and United States of America had faith to do the ‘right’ thing. His mission was to prevent minor skirmishes among countries from escalating into a third World War. In short, his role was to implement the UN Charter (Peace, Security, Development and Human Rights).

The Korean War was just ending, and the Cuban situation (1956 to 1958) occurred during his watch. The Vietnam North/South conflict had also commenced in 1955. So did the Suez crisis in 1956. By 1960 another crisis had occurred in the Congo. He applied himself with religious zeal, sometimes trusting his conscience, judgement and personal commitment to maintain the UN’s integrity during the Cold War. As a result, he was not too popular with the US, the UK and Russia, which at one point wanted him to resign. By now DH was serving a second term as Secretary-General.

In the Congo, mineral-rich Katanga province wanted self-rule with Moïse Tshombe as its head, while highly paid white mercenaries (dogs of war?) ran his military. Thus, with this situation creating a civil war, things were going from bad to worse. By now UN troops were fully involved in ‘peace keeping’ in the Congo. DH had made three trips to Congo before, and his fourth trip, on September 13, 1961, was to include a visit to Katanga for a meeting with Tshombe in the hope of negotiating for peace. His first destination was Leopoldville, now known as Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). There, he spent about four days before flying to Ndola in Northern Rhodesia, the country now known as Zambia. Ndola was situated at the Katanga border.

The flight took off from Leopoldville shortly after 3 pm on September 17. For security reasons, the flight was initially planned for another destination, then diverted to Ndola. The aircraft was a four-engine Douglas DC-6B, with ‘Aramco’ markings, Swedish registration SE-BDY, and named Albertina. With DH there were 15 other passengers and crew on board.

It was midnight when the aircraft overflew the Ndola airport, tracking towards a ground-based Non-Directional radio beacon (NDB) in the vicinity. To observers on the ground, everything about the aircraft looked ‘normal’. This was 1961, and it was still not mandatory to have a Flight Data Recorder (FDR) and Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR) – collectively known as the ‘Black Box’ – installed onboard. The air traffic control tower had neither radar nor voice-recording facilities.

The navigational equipment on the DC-6 was primitive by today’s standards. A needle over a compass dial in the Automatic Direction Finder (ADF) pointed to the beacon which was located close to the final approach. The ‘modus operandi’ was to fly past the beacon (which is at a known position relative to the airport). Pilots know they have flown past the beacon when the ADF needle swings around from pointing toward the nose of the aircraft to the tail. From overhead that Ndola NDB the aircraft is expected to fly on a heading of 280 degrees for 30 seconds, then carry out a course reversal, known as a ‘procedure turn’, offset to the right at 45 degrees (heading of 325 degrees) and flown for precisely 60 seconds, after which another turn is made to the reciprocal direction, in this case 145 degrees, back to intercept the extended centreline of the runway, with a bearing of 100 degrees to the NDB and the runway beyond. All this while descending to a minimum altitude of 5,000ft, as dictated by a landing chart for the airfield approved by the operating airline and local civil aviation authority. (See Chart 1 and 2)

In Chart 1, the significant high ground is only indicated to the north and south of the runway. There is no significant high ground to the west. Because pilots don’t know the exact distance from the airport, an acceptable technique used was ‘dive and drive’. Consequently, Albertina flew over Ndola at 6,000 ft or lower, and when turning ‘beacon inbound’ the pilots asked for a lower altitude of 5,000 ft to descend and maintain. While on descent, the DC-6 impacted unmarked high ground at 13 minutes past midnight, when only 9 miles from the airport.

Meanwhile in Ndola, a welcoming party awaited, consisting of Lord Alport, British High Commissioner to the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, Moïse Tshombe, the Katangese separatist leader, who had been brought in from Congo for talks with DH, and many others. They waited at the airport until shortly after 3 am, when the runway was closed and landing lights were turned off. Strangely, the air traffic control staff in the tower did not observe fire or noise of the crash and assumed that the aircraft had diverted to another airport. (See Image Wreckage)

The impact with trees occurred at a height of 4,357 ft above sea level, slightly left of the extended centreline of the runway. The aircraft should have been at least at 5,000 ft above sea level, as required by the approved landing chart. Significant high ground west of the airfield was not indicated in that chart.

The wreckage was found later in the afternoon of September 18, in the jungle, with over 80% of the airplane destroyed by fire. Although 14 passengers and crew were burnt beyond recognition, one bodyguard, Sergeant Harold Julien, survived for six days before dying in hospital. DH’s unburnt dead body was discovered with grass on his hands, propped up by an anthill and a playing card, the Ace of Spades, under his collar! The first UN officer to arrive at the crash site, Major General Bjørn Egge, a Norwegian, observed that there was a clean bullet hole in DH’s head that was covered up during the postmortem. So, did DH survive the crash to be killed afterward?

In the 24 hours preceding the crash, two of the three crew members had been on duty continuously for 17 hours, while the handling pilot’s duty time was within limits. The Rhodesian accident investigation team that conducted the inquiry declared it was ‘pilot error’. The following day, former US President Harry Truman, who was a confidant of incumbent President John F. Kennedy said that “Hammarskjöld had been killed”. Of course, pilot error was the most convenient explanation, because dead men cannot defend themselves. Therefore, those findings were disputed as there can be reasons why the pilots were forced to fly low. In other words, the cause behind the cause needed to be found.

In one of two UN-authorised inquiries, the UN’s Deputy Spokesperson, Farhan Haq, said that “significant new information” had been submitted to the inquiry for this latest update. This included probable intercepts by the UN member states, of communications related to the crash; the capacity of Katanga’s armed forces, or others, to mount an attack on the DC-6, SE-BDY; and the involvement of foreign paramilitary or intelligence personnel in the area at the time. It also included additional new information relevant to the context and surrounding events of 1961.

Additionally, in 1998 Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Chairman of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), stated that with regards to DH’s death in 1961, Britain’s MI5 (Military Intelligence, Section 5), the USA’s Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and South African Intelligence were implicated in letters where information was withheld before by member nations of the UN.

One possibility was the planting of plastic explosives in the wheel bay of the DC-6 when it was on the ground in Leopoldville. Pieces of wreckage were not spread out over the jungle. The aircraft crashed in one piece, creating a swathe in the treeline. So, it could not have been an explosion.

Many Congolese natives, including ‘charcoal burners’ in the jungle, said that there was more than one aircraft in the sky that night. These reports were dismissed as unreliable by the original accident inquiry. It was possibly because in 1961 the Rhodesian authorities only accepted ‘white’ witnesses’ evidence. So, was the DC-6 shot down, and if so by whom?

A High Frequency (HF) radio listening station in Cyprus monitored a transmission of a highly decorated, ex-Royal Air Force World War II pilot, operating in the Congo as a mercenary with the nickname ‘Lone Ranger’, giving a running commentary while shooting a large passenger aircraft from his modified Fouga CM.170 Magister two-seat jet trainer airplane. The pilot, Jan Van Risseghem (from a Belgian father and English mother), may not have known whose aircraft he was shooting at. He was only told of the mission he needed to accomplish. Besides, he had a strong alibi set up by the Belgian State Security Service (VSSE), saying that he was nowhere in the vicinity. Documents released later confirmed that the alibi was pure fabrication. It is also said that the American Ambassador to the Congo sent a secret cable saying that Van Risseghem was the possible ‘attacker’! (See Images Jan Van and KAT 93)

Harold Julien, the sole survivor of the crash, stated from his hospital bed that the aircraft caught fire before it crashed. But his evidence was disregarded on the grounds that he was seriously ill and delirious before he succumbed to his injuries.

Then, Land Rovers being driven to and fro were observed by natives in the early morning of September 18. This led to speculation that the occupants were suspected French mercenaries attempting to reach the crash site and destroy any evidence of foul play before the official party arrived. Questions were also asked as to how the Ace of Spades (or Six of Spades) playing card ended up under DH’s collar?

Further reports mentioned a de Havilland Dove aircraft flying in the vicinity of the crash. Was it part of an attempt to bomb the DC-6 from a high altitude?

On the other hand, the DC-6 was making a very difficult approach and landing at night, with the possibility for pilots to be distracted by optical illusions. These have been identified and labeled as potential killers by scientists and aviation accident investigators in subsequent crashes. With no lights in the foreground, they would have lost sight of the natural horizon in the dark. Years later, this phenomenon was called a ‘Black Hole’. Did the captain attempt to do a visual approach into uncharted territory, while disregarding the radio navigational beacon landing aid, and collide into high ground, a type of accident described as a Controlled Flight into Terrain (CFIT)?

The verdict is still open

Today’s airliners, equipped with Inertial Navigation Systems (INS) and satellite-aided Global Positioning Systems (GPS), can be set up by the pilots to fly an Artificial Intelligence (AI) generated approach angle, independent of ground navigational facilities, to prevent this type of CFIT accident. Besides that, all turbine-powered aircraft carrying more than nine passengers must be equipped with a Ground Proximity Warning System (GPWS) as mandated by law.

Going even one better, there are enhanced radar displays to show the presence of high ground. Unfortunately, the DC-6 that the Secretary-General of the UN travelled in was powered by four piston engines.

It was said of Dag Hammarskjöld that he served as Secretary-General of the UN with the utmost courage and integrity from 1953 until his death in 1961, setting standards against which his successors continue to be measured.

He is the only Nobel Peace Prize Laureate to have been awarded the distinction posthumously.

God bless all secret service agencies of the world and no one else!

by GUWAN SEEYA

Features

Putting people back into ‘development’ – a challenge for South

Published

2 days ago

2026/05/14

Sahan Weerasooriya

In need of swift empowerment; working people of Sri Lanka.

Should Sri Lanka consider an 18th IMF programme? Some academicians exploring Sri Lanka’s development prospects in depth are raising this issue. It is yet to emerge as a hot topic among policy and decision-making circles in this country but common sense would sooner rather than later dictate that it be taken up for discussion by the wider public and a decision arrived at.

The issue of an 18th IMF programme was raised with some urgency locally by none other than Dr. Ganeshan Wignaraja,Visiting Senior Fellow, ODI Global London, one of whose presentations, made at the Regional Centre for Strategic Studies (RCSS), Colombo, was highlighted in this column last week, May 7th. An IMF programme is far from the ideal way out for a bankrupt country such as Sri Lanka but a policy of economic pragmatism would indicate that there is no other way out for Sri Lanka. Such a programme is the proverbial ‘Bird in the hand’ for Sri Lanka and it may be compelled to avail of it to get itself out of the morass of economic failures it is bogged down in currently.

While local economic growth possibilities are far from encouraging at present, such prospects globally are far from bright as well. Some of the more thought-provoking data in the latter regard were disclosed by Dr. Wignaraja. For example, ‘The IMF’s April 2026 World Economic Outlook projects global growth slowing to 3.1 percent in 2026; with downside risks dominating: prolonged conflict, geopolitical fragmentation, renewed trade tensions, bearing down hardest on emergent and developing economies.’

However, as is known, an ‘IMF bailout’ is fraught with huge risks for the people of a developing country. ‘The Silver Bullet’ brings hardships for the people usually and they would be required by their governments to increasingly ‘tighten their belts’ and brace for perhaps indefinite material hardships and discontent. For Sri Lanka, the cost of living is unsettlingly high and 20 percent of the population is languishing below the poverty line of $ 3.65 per day.

These statistics should help put the spotlight on the people of a country, who are theoretically the subjects and beneficiaries of development, and one of the main reasons, in so far as democracies are concerned, for the existence of governments. Placing people at the centre of the development process is urgently needed in the global South and shifting the focus to other considerations would be tantamount to governments dabbling in misplaced priorities.

Technocrats are needed for the propelling of economic growth but a Southern country’s main approach to development cannot be entirely technocratic in nature. The well being of the people and how it is affected by such growth strategies need to be prime focuses in discussions on development. Accordingly, discourses on how poverty alleviation could be facilitated need urgent initiation and perpetuation. There is no getting away from people’s empowerment.

In the South over the decades, the above themes have been, more or less, allowed to lapse in discussions on development. With economic liberalization and ‘market economics’ being allowed to eclipse development, correctly understood, people’s well being could be said to have been downplayed by Southern governments.

The development issues of Southern publics could be also said to have been compounded over the years as a result of the hemisphere lacking a single and effective ‘voice’ that could consistently and forcefully take up its questions with the global powers and institutions that matter. That is, the South lacks an all-embracing, umbrella organization that could bring together and muster the collective will of the South and work towards the realization of its best interests.

This columnist has time and again brought up the need for concerned Southern sections to explore the potential within the now virtually moribund Non-Aligned Movement to reactivate itself and fill the above lacuna in the South’s organizational and mobilization capability. In its heyday NAM not only possessed this institutional capability but had ample ‘voice power’ in the form of its founding fathers, with Jawaharlal Nehru of India, for example, proving a power to reckon with in this regard. The lack of such leaders at present needs to be factored in as well as accounting for the South’s lack of power and presence in the deliberative forums of the world that have a bearing on the hemisphere’s well being.

The Executive Director of the RCSS, Ambassador (Retd) Ravinatha Aryasinha, articulated some interesting thoughts on the above and related questions at a forum a couple of months back. Speaking at the launching of the book authored by Prof. Gamini Keerewella titled, ‘Reimagining International Relations from a Global South Perspective’, at the Bandaranaike Centre for International Studies, Colombo, Amb. Aryasinha said, among other things: ‘Historically, there is a precedent that has been realized by the Non-Aligned group of countries – unfortunately, rather than being reformed and modified at the end of the Cold War, it has been tossed away.’

The inability of the nominally existent NAM to come out of its state of veritable paralysis and voice and act in the name of the South in the current international crises lends credence to the view that the organization has allowed itself to be ‘tossed away.’ The challenge before NAM is to prove that it is by no means a spent force.

As indicated, NAM needs vibrant voices that could advocate value-based advancement for the global South. Moral principles need to triumph over Realpolitik. Such transformative changes could come to pass if there is a fresh meeting of enlightened minds within the South. Pakistan by offering to mediate in the ongoing conflict between the US and Iran, for instance, proved that there are still states within the South that could look beyond narrow self-interest and work towards some collective goals. Hopefully, Pakistan’s example will be emulated.

Along with Pakistan some Gulf states have shown willingness to work towards a de-escalation of the present hostilities in West Asia. This could be a beginning for the undertaking of more ambitious, collective projects by the South that have as their goals political solutions to current international crises. These developments prove that the South is not bereft of visionary thinking that could lay the basis for a measure of world peace. That is, there are grounds to be hopeful.

NAM needs to see it as its responsibility to make good use of these hopeful signs to bring the South together once again and work towards the realization of its founding principles, such as initiating value-based international politics and laying the basis for the collective economic betterment of Southern people.