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Six Years in the Heart of Dixie

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By GEORGE BRAINE

In 1989, while finishing graduate studies at the University of Texas, at Austin, I accepted a teaching job in Alabama, where license plates proudly proclaim it’s the “Heart of Dixie”. Dixie is the nickname for the 11 Southern states that formed the Confederate States of America, which fought and lost the Civil War with the Northern Union states. These Southern states have a terrible legacy in terms of slavery, the KKK, and the murderous treatment of Black people. These areas are also notoriously backward, in terms of literacy, standard of education, and healthcare.

Not all my friends, in Austin, were pleased with my move to Alabama. One, a liberal woman from New York, said that she would “not stop to change a flat tire in Alabama”. I was aware of the legacy of the deep South, but most universities are open minded communities, and English departments oases of liberalism, so I didn’t anticipate much prejudice. The job market was tight, and, as a foreigner, I felt fortunate to find a job.

The University of South Alabama the city of Mobile, is a comprehensive university, with medical and engineering faculties, in addition to arts, sciences, business, education, computer science, nursing and social sciences. In 1989, the enrollment was about 12,000 students.

The English Department was, in every sense, traditional, dominated by White males and gracious Southern ladies, all of them White except for one Black female professor. James Dorrill, the chairperson, was a Jesuit priest and a Harvard man. To their credit, they hired me – the first from Asia (and the face, skin colour, and accent not matching the name) – to teach English to Americans.

 

Mobile, Alabama

The city of Mobile was the epitome of a conservative, Southern city. During the Civil War, it was one of the last Confederate cities to surrender to the Union Army. Mobile port, used to ship cotton from large, slave-holding plantations during antebellum (pre- Civil War) times, became a leading dockyard during the two World Wars, 200 ships having been built during World War II. When I arrived, the port had seen better times, although cruise ships would occasionally dock, and timber and coal had replaced “king cotton” as the main export.

Vestiges of Mobile’s halcyon days remained in the downtown area, dominated by the Greco-Roman style Catholic cathedral. Gracious Southern homes, with their open verandas, large casement windows with wooden slats, tall Grecian pillars, and the weathered brick walls gave the area a 19th century appearance. Streets lined with old oak trees that met in the middle enhanced this ambience. Some houses, in the Queen Anne style, had elaborately decorated exteriors. The gardens were full of flowering shrubs, shaded by magnolia, weeping willow, and ancient oak trees hung with moss. What these homes evoked was a leisurely lifestyle – iced tea, mint juleps – and old money. Uniformly, all these houses were occupied by Whites.

Not far off, but in a world apart, lived the poorest Blacks. Their wooden houses – mainly of the one-room shotgun style – were near collapse due to neglect, and I wondered how people managed to live there. A scattering of discarded furniture, rusty appliances, like refrigerators, and even vehicles raised on cinder blocks, filled the weedy yards. People sat on their porches, staring at the road, or hung around aimlessly, apparently with nothing much to do. A supermarket, or even a 7-Eleven, was nowhere in sight.

Two roads lead away from the downtown area, westward. One was Old Shell Road, where the houses and vegetation resembled the downtown area. Spring Hill College, an old liberal arts university, was on this road. It even owned an 18-hole golf course. The newer parts of Mobile were along Airport Boulevard, which ran parallel to Old Shell Road and was the main thoroughfare. Here, Mobile resembled a typical American mid-sized city, with a few department stores and numerous strip malls, McDonalds, Burger Kings, and other fast food outlets. Typically, affluent subdivisions, housing spacious, stately homes, were set far back from the road. The less affluent houses – flat, single storied, ranch homes – lined the roads. Apartment complexes catering to tenants of various income levels, were scattered throughout the city. The most prominent tree was pine, not of the coniferous Christmas-tree variety, but unattractive, with thin, long needles. These pines grew along the roads and alongside the houses. Fallen pine needles and cones smothered the grass.

Mobile’s population was about 200,000. Religion triumphed over everything: more than 200 churches, mainly Baptist, served the community. Catholic churches were also numerous. Typical of conservative societies, rich people and businesses paid low taxes, and the result was the erosion of funding for public education and health services. For lack of permanent classrooms, some classes met in converted mobile homes. This problem was often discussed on TV and in the newspaper, but no solution was in sight.

Air pollution was high. A number of paper factories operated nearby, and when the wind blew towards Mobile, a foul odor of sulphur dioxide enveloped the city. I would get up some mornings to this odor and a thin sheen of polluted mist, which might last till midday.

 

Teaching

I taught writing, what Americans termed rhetoric and composition, both at the freshman (first year) and senior (fourth year) levels. In addition to Americans, the freshmen classes had international students coming from a range of countries in South and Central America, Asia, and Europe, the latter mainly from former Soviet republics. As a result, in terms of accents, varieties of English spoken, and cultural features, my classes resembled a mini-United Nations. I found this delightful. In a class of 25, I could have students speaking 15 different languages.

At the more advanced class, the students came mainly from engineering and computer science. Many students were older adults, either returning to university after taking years off for full-time work, or starting university after raising a family. I had interesting conversations with some of them – about their jobs, their struggles to meet tuition payments, growing up in the South, pros and cons of American cars – and gleaned much about American life. One topic never touched upon was race relations.

My classes were taught in a computer lab, for which I had raised funds. For some students, this was their first use of a computer. Teaching composition is my forte, and I received positive evaluations from most of my students. American students could be blunt and confrontational at times, but, despite my “foreignness”, I never heard a racial slur in or out of class, or read a racist comment in the anonymous end-of-term evaluations that students provided.

Among my colleagues, in the English Department, my favourite was Patricia Stephens, not the typical Southern belle by a long shot. Pat, who taught American literature, had a smoker’s rough voice, and a no-nonsense, direct manner. She had attended college in Memphis when Elvis Presley was performing at the clubs there. I introduced Pat to V.S. Naipaul, and she told me his travelogue “A turn in the South” was the best book about the South that she had read. Later, we team taught a graduate course titled “Rushdie and Naipaul”.

My wife and I also had a close friendship with Prof. Dorrill (we called him Father Dorrill), the Chair of the English department. Once in a while, we invited him home for a Sri Lankan meal, which he enjoyed. We kept in touch over the years, and, in 2016, I returned to Mobile to see him when Father became feeble after his health deteriorated.

Race relations

Since arriving in the United States, in 198, for graduate studies, I lived in Washington DC, Philadelphia (for one semester) and Austin, Texas. In Washington DC and Austin, I had met Black students and professionals, studying or working confidently alongside Whites and apparently being treated equally. In Philadelphia, where the University of Pennsylvania was in the downtown area, I often saw down and out Blacks, some homeless and others perhaps addicted to alcohol or drugs. Raggedly dressed, trundling a shopping cart that held all their belongings, they would sometimes wander around campus, and even walk disruptively into lecture halls. In Alabama, a state where Blacks people had been persecuted since the days of slavery, and where Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s struggle for civil rights that had been met with violence, I did not expect to observe smooth relations between the Blacks and Whites.

So, I was surprised to observe the two main races getting along without any visible friction. Black professionals appeared to be respected – we had Black professors and even my doctor was one – and a few could be seen managing department stores and other businesses. But, on Sunday mornings, when everyone attended church, the racial division became clear. Most Blacks attended their churches, while the Whites went to theirs. Although a few Black folks attended church alongside the Whites, I could not imagine a White person in a Black church.

From my readings and observations, I gradually began to realize how matters stood. As long as the Blacks knew their place, and stayed there, the society could be harmonious and functional. When these invisible boundaries were crossed, trouble could erupt.

In this milieu, how could my family define ourselves? We were clearly not White, and had no Black roots either. The term Asian was for Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, and Koreans. My wife Fawzia had a Muslim name, but hardly anyone realized that. Americans are notoriously ignorant of world geography. When asked, I told them that Sri Lanka was the little island below India. But, how many of them could even point to India on a world map?

Fawzia worked for a while as a librarian, at Spring Hill College. Not once did Fawzia or I face any type of racial discrimination in Mobile. But, when our son was attending high school there,
a clash broke out between students from the two races, which turned into a minor riot. When we went to pick our son up, the area was surrounded by police cars and armed policemen.

Two incidents provide evidence of the acute racial discrimination that had existed in Mobile before my time. In 1958, Jimmy Wilson, a Black handyman, had been condemned to death for stealing $1.95 (yes, less than two dollars) from a White woman. The jury may have been influenced by the woman’s testimony that Wilson had spoken to her in a disrespectful tone. (Fortunately, due to an international outcry, including a plea from the Pope, Wilson’s sentence was commuted). Second, the last recorded lynching in the USA had occurred in Mobile in 1981. A young man was killed elsewhere, but brought to Mobile and hung from a tree. During my 2016 visit, I was shown the tree.

After six years in Mobile, in preparation for a move to Hong Kong, I had advertised my house and car for sale. One day, a Black family came to see the car and later came into my house to discuss the deal. After they left, my neighbour, a middle-aged White woman, rushed in, saying “I hope you are not selling the house to them”. She didn’t mind Sri Lankans, but didn’t want any Blacks in the neighbourhood.



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First leftist Mayor after NM: SJB, UNP beaten at their own game

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What’s in a vote? That which we call a show of hands could still be as concealed as a secret vote. The newly elected Colombo Municipal Council has chosen the NPP’s Vraie Cally Balthazaar as the City’s new Mayor, but on a secret vote and not in an open show of hands. The secret vote route appears to have caused much consternation among the SJB-UNP opposition forces at the Town Hall. The latter openly preferred an open show and are blaming the secret vote for the defeat of their candidate Riza Zarook.

On the face of it, the NPP with 49 of the 117 Councillors has a more legitimate claim to have one of own as Mayor rather than the SJB with 29 Councillors. In what has been described as a “desperate move”, the SJB forged a mayoral united front by fusing its 29 members with the UNP’s 13, the SLPP’s five and the singular member of the People’s Alliance (whoever the PA now is).

The beefed up SJB mayoral front total of 48 was close enough to the NPP’s 49 for claims of legitimacy, and both sides needed the support at least another 11 or 10 from the remaining 20 members to get the required majority of 59 votes. In the secret vote, the NPP’s candidate presumably got 12 of the non-allied votes to get 61 votes in total. The SJB mayoral front got only six for a total 54 votes. Two votes, there’s no certainty as to whose, were rejected.

Would the result have gone the other way if this municipal conclave had decided on an open show instead of papal secrecy? You do not need supernatural powers to determine that. Let alone a clairvoyant like Gota’s Gnanaka! The commonplace supposition would be that a secret vote may have allowed secret transactions to secure support with hidden hands.

But no one is accusing the JVP-NPP of resorting to such time-(dis)honoured tactics perfected for over 75 years by the UNP and later copied by all others, and most vigorously by the Rajapaksas. If I remember right or not mistaken, the Sunday Times Political Editor made the point after the May LG elections that there was no hanky-panky meddling in the elections by the NPP government – unlike (this is my parentheses) all previous governments in all previous elections.

As well, we may turn the question around and ask about the insistence on an open show of hands as against a secret vote. Is it because the SJB is now all for keeping its hands clean and asking others to show their hands of support in the open without receiving undue incentives? OR is it because the SJB and its allies wanted to see in the open which of the NPP councillors, who may have been beneficiaries of earlier incentives, would now betray them and support the NPP candidate?

Put another way, was it a stratagem to ask for a show of hands to see the breach of loyalty in the open in spite of past IOUs? The latter hypothesis has greater credibility because of the blessings given to the SJB alliance by two former presidents representing two fallen political houses.

No matter what happened secretly and how, the eventual victory of Ms. Balthazar as NPP Mayor chalks up a rare non-UNP victory in the history of Colombo Town Hall politics. After independence there have been only two non-UNP Mayors in Colombo. The first came as a progressive breakthrough when NM Perera became Mayor in 1954. The second came as a comical farce in 2006, when Uvais Mohamed Imitiyas, the leader of an independent group put up by the UNP after its botched up list of candidates had been rejected by the Election Commissioner. Ms. Balthazar is also the City’s second female mayor in quick succession after Rosy Senanayake herself an old school UNPer.

In NM’s Footsteps

News commentaries on Ms. Balthazar’s victory have made mention of the fact that she is the first leftist Mayor of Colombo in 70 years. The first and the last leftist Mayor so far has been Dr. NM Perera, the LSSP leader. NM had been a CMC member from July 1948 and became Mayor on 13 August 1954 after the municipal election on 24 July 1954. A New York Times news report called him the world’s first Trotskyite Mayor, a tongue-in-cheek shot that was characteristic of the Cold War era.

An era that the world badly misses now with an unstoppable Netanyahu and TACO (Trump always chickens out) Trump running amok. In this instance, with Middle East burning, Trump has chickened out to the war schemes of Netanyahu.

Back to Colombo of the 1950s, the LSSP fared well in the LG elections of 1954 including Colombo, a number of Urban Councils and many village councils. In Colombo, NM was accompanied by a strong LSSP contingent that included stalwarts like Bernard Soysa Osmund Jayaratne and a well known architect of the era, J. E. Devapura. Some years ago, Stanley Abeynaike recounted the saga of NM’s Mayorship in the Sunday Observer. Last week, Nandana Weerarathne (Nandana Substack) has recalled the old NM story in the current context.

The initiatives that NM spearheaded as Mayor are worthy of emulation even today. The first order of business was ridding Town Hall of bribery and corruption and implementing a purposeful budget. He took on the private omnibus system within Colombo, replacing it by a public trolley-bus service; and started planning a public bus service for the city and suburban travellers in collaboration with the local authorities of Kolonnawa, Wattala, Dehiwela, Mount-Lavinia and Kotte. City cleanup, slum clearance, small housing schemes, upkeep of rental housing neglected by landlords, and transferring ownership of rental housing to tenants after 30 years of occupancy – were among the progressive measures that were rapidly rolled out during NM’s methodical mayorship.

But all those initiatives of NM riled up the landlords and the private bus owners, and through them the entire UNP government of Prime Minister Kotelawala. Sir John and his cabal were not going to let NM to be the Mayor of Colombo’s even as the country was heading to the general election in 1956. A conspiracy was hatched, and a resolution was passed at an emergency UNP meeting at Sri Kotha, the UNP headquarters, “to remove the Colombo Mayor, Dr. NM Perera.” Even the courts got in on the act to facilitate a resolution at Council against NM as Mayor.

When the resolution to remove NM as Mayor finally came to the floor, Bernard Soysa, Osmund Jayaratne and JE Devapura took turns speaking for hours on end against the resolution. They were hoping to run the clock until the Supreme Court ruling came. But to no avail, and the resolution was passed on October 1st, 1955 by a majority of two votes. One of them was the Communist Party’s Kotahena Member Anthony Marcellus who was brought over to the UNP to vote against NM. Orchestrating the moves was R. Premadasa (father of the current SJB leader) who was brought from outside to oversee matters inside, replacing then Deputy Mayor T. Rudra, who was obliged to resign. All of that in time for the April 1956 election that the UNP lost anyway.

Even the 2006 election of Uvais Mohamed Imitiyas, a political nondescript, as mayor, was the result of the backfiring of a UNP plan to prevent Vasudeva Nanayakkara, another LSSPer, from becoming Mayor. The UNP even got the better of Milinda Moragoda, one time Wickremesinghe confidant, when he chose to make a run for the Mayorship with the support of the Rajapaksas in 2011. UNP fielded its own candidate, AJM Muzammil, who defeated Moragoda and stayed on as Mayor until Rosie Senanayake succeeded him as the next, and now likely the last, UNP Mayor.

So, one can imagine the consternation of Ranil Wickremesinghe in seeing even the last bastion of the UNP’s power legacy being taken away by the upstart NPP. After 1977, through constitutional chicanery and electoral subterfuge the UNP established its supremacy at all levels of government and in all elections. After Chandrika Kumaratunga’s spectacular victories in 1994, the UNP’s electoral superstructure has been steadily dismantled and the only elected body that has survived this debacle is the Colombo Municipality. Until now, that is.

And all of this has been on Ranil Wickremesinghe’s watch. He has been quintessentially a Colombo politician, albeit with an elitist base like JR Jayewardene, unlike the likes of Pieter Keuneman, Bernard Soysa or R. Premadasa who reached out to a broader cross-section of people in the City. Losing Colombo would be the bitterest pill to swallow.

If you are inclined to feel sorry for Mr. Wickremesinghe, save yourself some space to feel good about the future of the City and even the country. Leaving Colombo in the hands of an opportunistically cobbled up SJB-UNP-SLPP alliance would have been both an insult and an injury. The NPP deserved to have one from its ranks as Mayor and it has beaten the UNP in its own game to seal its victory. But having won to govern, will the NPP govern to win – again? That is the question.

by Rajan Philips ✍️

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Criminalise war and work tirelessly for peace: Dr. Mahathir Mohamad

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Dr. Mahathir Mohamad

Soon to be 100-years ( July 10 th 1925) the two times former Prime Minister of Malaysia’s advice to the world is to “Criminalize War” and work tirelessly for peace.

Q: What is the secret to your healthy happy life?

A: People ask me that question all the time and I say I think its just my good luck. If I have suffered from some kind of fatal disease like cancer, of course life would be different.

I have had heart attacks, and both times I had open heart surgery, but nowadays they don’t open your heart. They use stents. I survived and I recovered and I was able to function. After that I am more careful with what I eat. I keep my weight steady. I do not increase my weight.

In this world, food is the problem. On the one hand you have people who are obese and on the other hand, we have a world that is starving. So, I avoid being obese and eat only very little every day.

Q: What is your advice to the younger generation?

A: My advice is to be active. Active means not only physically active. The brain is an amazing muscle. You need to use it every single day. If you see weight lifters, they have big muscles because they do exercise, You must not become sedentary. Brain must be constantly exercised.

Q: Now that you have retired, what is your day like?

A: I want to take it easy, but most of the time, I come to work almost daily. Usually, people try to retire at 55 or 56. But they must not do that. I keep my body and mind active all the time. I still read, write and do whatever is needed of me.

Q: About the world and with all that is going on around us, what would your advice be to all nations, specially to the nations that are at war?

A: When I stepped down from being Prime Minister, I started a movement to ‘Criminalize War” to make war a crime. There was some support, it took a long time. I believe that any conflict should be resolved. Not through killing each other. You should resolve conflicts through peaceful means like negotiations. That is what we practice here. We are a multinational country, normally there would be many conflicts, but we do not have war in Malaysia. We sit down and talk.

Q: If you had one more opportunity to be Prime Minister of Malaysia, what would you do differently this time?

A: When I stepped down after 22 years, there was still a lot of things to be done. These 22 years were a time of very high tension that came from developed countries. So, at that time, I had to know how things should be done and when things should be done. When I stepped down, unfortunately, my successors were focused on other things. In fact, making money became their priority, so the focus on the country, diminished.

Q: What is the one thing you would like to see happen in your country or in the world as a whole?

A: There are developed countries and there are under developed countries. We want to be a developed country. Developed countries have many assets. For example, economically our people have a fairly good life, our people are involved in activities that contribute to the wellbeing of each other and to other nations. Countries need to help each other, for example in the sciences. There are many areas of research that still need to be done. I would like to see developed countries, reach out to developing countries and form healthy alliances to make each other prosperous.

I have lived a fruitful life. I am happy and I wish to see all nations prosperous and live in peace.

Anusha Rayen, Freenlance Journalist (Formerly ‘The Island Newspaper’ staff member & Parliament reporter) sits for an exclusive interview with former PM of Malaysia Dr. Mahathir Mohamad in Puthrajaya.

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Price of Netanyahu’s Iran Offensive

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Nathanyahu and Khamenei

That was brutal, and predicated on years of fabricated deceit. But that is how power operates. Netanyahu is not acting in isolation; he was ushered into this calamity with calculated endorsement from the West. For both Iran and Israel, this is a zero-sum confrontation—a tragic entanglement where ancient antagonisms, contemporary geopolitics, and enduring colonial residues violently intersect. What is most intellectually arresting is the glaring paradox Western powers routinely embrace. When Netanyahu launches a premeditated and unlawful assault on Iran, it is euphemistically labelled as a measure of self-defence. Yet when Vladimir Putin deploys forces into Ukraine, the West decries it as an unprovoked invasion. This hypocrisy in moral reasoning illustrates the incoherence of Western ethical frameworks—marked by selective outrage, selective jurisprudence, and selective memory.

Netanyahu is actively courting American bombardment of Tehran, even venturing so far as to suggest the types of ordnance most suitable for maximum devastation. Trump, meanwhile, hesitates—not over Iran’s fate, but because the ensuing ramifications will inevitably encircle him. This cynical arithmetic typifies the geopolitical stage on which empires perform their cruelties. A week has now passed since Netanyahu’s incursion into Iran—a deliberate campaign tacitly sanctioned by the United States and its constellation of affluent allies, whose modern prosperity is inseparable from centuries of extraction and systemic plunder. War, whether desirable or not, remains the central mechanism by which empires assert dominion, redraw territories, and dismantle resistance. Israel’s open defiance of international law—manifest in its missile barrage on Iranian soil—lays bare an unsettling truth: if global powers truly revered international legal norms, Netanyahu’s actions would face unequivocal denunciation. Instead, one could argue—chillingly—that he affirms history’s most ominous prophecies.

Western media, complicit in sanitising this act of aggression, frames it as an “unprecedented” strike—yet again resorting to euphemism to mask illegality. This was not an improvisational operation; it was the culmination of extensive clandestine preparation by Netanyahu and his ultranationalist Orthodox coalition. Israel’s intelligence apparatus has, over decades, embedded itself within the architecture of Iranian society, executing key figures and orchestrating strategic assassinations. The latest Friday strikes were not merely military engagements—they constituted a coordinated political decapitation, targeting senior officials central to the Iranian state.

Iranian society today endures compounded crises. Their tenacity and national pride remain steadfast, yet they are economically suffocated by Western sanctions, which have induced runaway inflation and scarcity. From first-hand experience in Tehran, Iranians are not consumed by a siege mentality; rather, they display a cautious hospitality that, once trust is earned, transforms into deep generosity—qualities starkly misrepresented in Western discourse. In contrast, Israelis are socialised into a perpetual state of existential fear. “Security” is not merely policy—it is a psychological infrastructure, permeating every aspect of public and private life. Israel’s economy thrives not only through sanctioned trade but through its robust arms industry and cyber-warfare enterprises, often exported under the guise of national expertise. This divergence in societal conditioning is critical: it reflects distinct historical wounds and geopolitical compulsions.

To grasp Israel’s war on Iran, one must situate it within the long arc of Western imperial entrenchment in West Asia. This history is punctuated by covert operations, artificial borders, and a strategy of managed chaos. The 1953 CIA-backed coup in Iran—toppling the democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh and reinstating the autocratic Shah—is emblematic of this trajectory. For decades, Western powers suppressed indigenous sovereignty while installing compliant strongmen. The 1979 Islamic Revolution was not merely theological upheaval; it was a radical assertion of national agency forged in the crucible of sustained foreign domination. In the revolution’s wake, Iranian society was reconstituted through a deep-rooted collectivism and assertive nationalism that continues to shape its resistance against external coercion.

Viewed through this prism, Netanyahu’s tenure may be remembered as one of the most corrosive in Israel’s history. By fusing religious chauvinism with militaristic expansionism, he has eviscerated Israel’s democratic ethos, transforming “security” into a tool of territorial expropriation and systemic Palestinian disenfranchisement. His escalation against Iran is not merely a tactical error; it is an incitement to regional disintegration. Framed as a crusade for “unconditional surrender,” his belligerence risks igniting a broader conflagration whose consequences will inevitably recoil upon Israel itself. Netanyahu, then, appears less as a strategist than as a provocateur, recklessly agitating the region’s deepest historical and sectarian fissures.

According to Haaretz, an independent Israeli media outlet operating despite a severely censored and often propagandistic Israeli media environment, several prominent progressive Jewish groups were notably absent from the so-called “joint unity statement” backing Israel’s strikes on Iran. These groups contend that while Iran should not acquire nuclear weapons, military action will at best delay the threat and more likely strengthen hardliners. They argue that diplomacy, not bombs, has proven effective in preventing nuclear proliferation—revealing significant divisions within the Jewish community over Netanyahu’s war.

Meanwhile, a report in the Financial Times captures the civil dimension of this confrontation. Despite sustained bombardment, millions of Iranians remain in Tehran. “Trump and Netanyahu say ‘evacuate’ as if they care about our health. How can a city of 10 million evacuate? My husband and I are not going to pave the ground for them. Let them kill us,” Shirin, a private sector employee told the newspaper. Their refusal to flee is not naïveté—it is a visceral affirmation of identity and resistance. The Iranian public consciousness, hardened by decades of war, sanctions, and subterfuge, manifests a collective defiance often misread in the West. The state’s nationalist discourse resonates beyond clerical authority; it channels a cultural memory of resistance against imperial intrusion.

Moreover, the disproportionate risk to civilians is staggering. Israeli operations ostensibly targeting senior military personnel inevitably endanger entire urban populations, as these individuals live and operate within densely populated civilian zones. The echoes of Israel’s operations in Lebanon—where missile strikes against Hezbollah figures claimed high civilian casualties—are unmistakable. The Iranian Health Ministry’s figure of nearly 1,500 casualties reveals the raw human cost beneath the rhetoric of strategic necessity.

This episode also exposes the profound hypocrisy embedded in Western narratives on nuclear proliferation. The International Atomic Energy Agency has repeatedly found no conclusive evidence that Iran is pursuing a nuclear weapon systematically. Yet, Western powers wield this unverified threat as a pretext for military aggression. The contradictory statements from US officials—from intelligence directors denying Iran’s weaponisation efforts to presidents asserting Tehran is “very close” to the bomb—reflect a politicisation of intelligence designed to justify interventionism.

History has shown the futility of liberal interventionist fantasies: that democracy can be air-dropped or imposed through market restructuring. The Arab Spring, once heralded as a democratic revival, instead expedited the collapse of fragile states and exacerbated regional instability. The supposed liberal order in West Asia has devolved into a transactional, militarised regime wherein peace is manufactured, not cultivated.

Netanyahu’s war on Iran is not an anomaly—it is the terminal result of accumulated imperial failures, ideological rigidity, and historical amnesia. It confirms a grim axiom: when utopias collapse, it is always the powerless who bleed. His offensive, cloaked in the pieties of national security, belongs to a longer, darker chronicle—one whose conclusion will define the fate of West Asia and the very contours of justice in our century.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa ✍️

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