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Some reflections on sinhala popular music

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By Uditha Devapriya

In Modernizing Composition: Sinhala Song, Poetry, and Politics in Twentieth-Century Sri Lanka (University of California Press, 2017), Garrett Field emphasises the role that radio played in disseminating and elevating musical standards in the newly independent colonies of South Asia. The 1950s, when this process played itself out, was a period in which the state and institutional politics “became inextricable from linguistic nationalism.” Across Sri Lanka, these links found their fullest expression in Radio Ceylon, specifically after the latter began to employ professional Sinhala songwriters.

This was not a development unique to Sri Lanka. As Coonoor Kripalani has argued, in India radio served a pivotal function “in building patriotism and nationhood” after independence. Radio was cheaper and more accessible, while in Sri Lanka it predated television by three decades. In India, as in Sri Lanka, it provided litterateurs, composers, and performers who had depended on the patronage of the colonial bourgeoisie, and had thrived on the cultural revivalist movements of the 19th century, a more solid institutional footing.

Field’s book is important for several reasons, in particular its attempt at understanding the subtleties of Sinhala music through translation. However, it ends at a point – the mid-1960s – when Sinhala music was about to embark on its most colourful period.

To say this is not to belittle Field’s book. Modernizing Composition fills a great many gaps, including its exploration of the links between commercial capitalism and the revival of Sinhala music in the early 20th century. It also acknowledges that music and poetry cannot be viewed in isolation from one another, particularly in the context of newly decolonised societies searching for a cultural identity. Indeed, its immense scope and breadth are why Field’s analysis, sound as it is, should be carried forward to the 1960s and 1970s, especially since it was in these later periods that the factors that underpinned the popularity of Sinhala music – free education and linguistic nationalism – reached their apogees.

To be sure, these two periods – the 1940s-1950s and the 1960s-1970s – were qualitatively different. They imbibed different cultural influences and pandered to different audiences and markets. Following Sheldon Pollock, Professor Field uses the theory of “cosmopolitan vernacularism” to explain how, following independence, poets and songwriters grafted or superimposed classical literary aesthetics on regional languages and thereby gave birth to “new premodern vernacular literatures.” Throughout South Asia in general, and across Sri Lanka in particular, it was Sanskrit that indigenous poets and songwriters turned to in their quest to elevate their linguistic heritages and lineages. The more Westernised among them also sought inspiration from modernist American and European poetry.

Since I am by no means a specialist in anthropology, I cannot pass judgments on how these developments played themselves out in the 1960s. Yet it is clear that these developments had their origins in the period immediately preceding 1956. Now, 1956 meant a great many things to a great many people. To some it symbolised the triumph of the indigenous over the foreign; to others, the triumph of ethno-religious majoritarianism. Whichever way you look at it, 1956 provided the crucible through Sinhala music could continue to transform, to evolve, and to thrive. Here I am concerned with two musical forms: baila and pop music. My justification for this is simple: it is these two genres which facilitated the popularisation, or what I call the “middle-browing”, of Sinhala music after the 1960s.

Baila is more controversial and more contentious than Sinhala pop. As Anne Sheeran has noted, baila as a musical genre, activates both conformist and conservative elements. It at once provokes many of us to flout tradition, and compels not a few others to protest that flouting of tradition. Thus nationalist ideologues can bemoan the deterioration of cultural values, and parents can bemoan their children’s addition to the latest cultural trends, by invoking its name. In other words, is it the proverbial bogeyman in the room, a scapegoat for the death of culture, and the last resort of the puritan.

It is all these things. Yet as one historian communicated to me some years ago, baila stands with ves natum as one of the most uniquely indigenous cultural forms in Sri Lanka, an irony given their foreign roots (Portuguese and Indian). And in the 1960s and 1970s, it underwent a transition that would define the trajectory of Sinhala music.

The significance of this transition cannot be overrated. Such transitions were taking place in other cultural spheres as well. In literature, the renaissance that had been heralded by Martin Wickramasinghe had meandered to the popular fiction of Karunasena Jayalath. In film, Lester James Peries’s experiments had enabled a number of directors, including two of his assistants and colleagues, Titus Thotawatte (Chandiya) and Tissa Liyanasuriya (Saravita), to seek a middle-ground between artistic and commercial cinema. The situation was rather different in the theatre, where a new generation of bilingual writers, including Dayananda Gunawardena, Premaranjith Tilakaratne, G. D. L. Perera, Henry Jayasena, Dhamma Jagoda, Gunasena Galappatti, and Simon Navagattegama, continued to hold on to some semblance of a benchmark. Yet even they sought a break from the past.

By this I do not mean to say, or suggest, that there was a complete rupture in Sinhala music. The old musical forms continued to thrive, if not evolve. The first generation of lyricists and songwriters, including Chandraratne Manawasinghe, Madawala Rathnayake, and the great Mahagama Sekara, continued to write for old collaborators, as well as new voices. However, many of them remained utterly classical in their views on music, and it was these views that prevailed at Radio Ceylon. As Tissa Abeysekera has controversially remarked, on more than one occasion, this had the effect of stunting the growth of Western music in Sri Lanka, even as Western music was gaining popularity over the airwaves and on film in India. Against that backdrop, a new generation of composers was bound to emerge.

In a series of essays, all anthologised in Roots, Reflections and Reminiscences (Sarasavi, 2007), Abeysekera argues that the conflict here was between those who advocated the Indianisation or Sanskritisation of local music and those who promoted more vernacular, indigenous musical forms. He refers to the visit of S. N. Ratanjankar and the audition that was conducted at Radio Ceylon, under his supervision, and points out that these led to the stagnation of Sinhala music. However, Garrett Field’s take on the visit, and the audition, is different: citing a speech that he delivered at the Royal Asiatic Society in Colombo, a speech Abeysekara does not quote from, Field contends that Ratanjankar wanted artistes to “create a modern song, based on folk poetry and folk music.” This is at variance with Abeysekera’s reading of events, which make it out that Ratanjankar, if not the authorities at Radio Ceylon, marginalised proponents of folk music, including Sunil Shantha.

I think both Field and Abeysekera have a point, and both are correct. While promoting if not advocating the indigenisation of music, Sinhala composers consciously went back to North Indian influences. Contrary to what Abeysekera has written, what this achieved in the end was a fusion of disparate cultural elements – Sinhala folk poetry and Sanskrit aesthetics – which laid the groundwork for an efflorescence in Sinhala music. At the same time, those who diverged from the mainstream trend of incorporating North Indian musical elements retreated to a world of their own. They included not just Sunil Shantha, but also the first-generation proponents of baila, like Wally Bastiansz, who found a niche audience eager to listen to them but failed to penetrate more middle-class audiences.

The question thus soon arose as to who could push these developments on to mainstream listeners. In the 1950s Sinhala composers and lyricists had popularised folk poetry through sarala gee, or light classical songs. In the 1960s baila had succeeded folk poetry as a popular musical form. The task of making baila palatable for young, Sinhala speaking audiences, fell on a new generation of composers. This new generation found their inspiration not so much in North Indian music as in Elvis, the Beatles, and Jimi Hendrix.

Their turning point, if it can be called that, came in 1967, a decade after 1956, when a little-known group, called The Moonstones, made their debut on Radio Ceylon. Featuring guitars, congas, maracas, and Cuban drums, their impact was immediate, so much so that within the next two years, both Phillips and Sooriya had signed them onboard.

What The Moonstones, and its lead Clarence Wijewardena, did was not so much challenge or flout the musical establishment of their time as to perform for an audience different in outlook and attitude to the audiences which the establishment had pandered to until then. This is a very important point, since I do not think there was a grand overarching conflict, in any way, between the new generation and the old. The old lyricists continued to write for their collaborators, and they willingly collaborated with the new voices: Sekara, for instance, wrote a song for one of the more prominent new voices, Indrani Perera, while Amaradeva sang for Clarence Wijewardena. Contrary to Abeysekera, I hence prefer to see this period as one of collaboration rather than outright, fight-to-the-death competition.

Field’s analysis, as I mentioned at the beginning of this essay, ends somewhere in the 1960s. His research is impeccably sound, and it deserves being carried forward. More than anything else, we need to know more about the audiences that the new composers, vocalists, and lyricists pandered to, and how exactly the latter groups pandered to them. We also need to know how their predecessors, who remained active in this period, interacted with them. I am specifically concerned here with the period from 1967 – when The Moonstones entered the mainstream – to 1978 – when a new government, a new economy, and an entirely new set of cultural forms and influences took the lead. All this represents much fieldwork for the anthropologist and historian of Sri Lankan, and South Asian, music. But it is the least we can do, given Garrett Field’s wonderful book and the many gaps it fills.

(The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.)



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Disaster-proofing paradise: Sri Lanka’s new path to global resilience

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iyadasa Advisor to the Ministry of Science & Technology and a Board of Directors of Sri Lanka Atomic Energy Regulatory Council A value chain management consultant to www.vivonta.lk

As climate shocks multiply worldwide from unseasonal droughts and flash floods to cyclones that now carry unpredictable fury Sri Lanka, long known for its lush biodiversity and heritage, stands at a crossroads. We can either remain locked in a reactive cycle of warnings and recovery, or boldly transform into the world’s first disaster-proof tropical nation — a secure haven for citizens and a trusted destination for global travelers.

The Presidential declaration to transition within one year from a limited, rainfall-and-cyclone-dependent warning system to a full-spectrum, science-enabled resilience model is not only historic — it’s urgent. This policy shift marks the beginning of a new era: one where nature, technology, ancient wisdom, and community preparedness work in harmony to protect every Sri Lankan village and every visiting tourist.

The Current System’s Fatal Gaps

Today, Sri Lanka’s disaster management system is dangerously underpowered for the accelerating climate era. Our primary reliance is on monsoon rainfall tracking and cyclone alerts — helpful, but inadequate in the face of multi-hazard threats such as flash floods, landslides, droughts, lightning storms, and urban inundation.

Institutions are fragmented; responsibilities crisscross between agencies, often with unclear mandates and slow decision cycles. Community-level preparedness is minimal — nearly half of households lack basic knowledge on what to do when a disaster strikes. Infrastructure in key regions is outdated, with urban drains, tank sluices, and bunds built for rainfall patterns of the 1960s, not today’s intense cloudbursts or sea-level rise.

Critically, Sri Lanka is not yet integrated with global planetary systems — solar winds, El Niño cycles, Indian Ocean Dipole shifts — despite clear evidence that these invisible climate forces shape our rainfall, storm intensity, and drought rhythms. Worse, we have lost touch with our ancestral systems of environmental management — from tank cascades to forest sanctuaries — that sustained this island for over two millennia.

This system, in short, is outdated, siloed, and reactive. And it must change.

A New Vision for Disaster-Proof Sri Lanka

Under the new policy shift, Sri Lanka will adopt a complete resilience architecture that transforms climate disaster prevention into a national development strategy. This system rests on five interlinked pillars:

Science and Predictive Intelligence

We will move beyond surface-level forecasting. A new national climate intelligence platform will integrate:

AI-driven pattern recognition of rainfall and flood events

Global data from solar activity, ocean oscillations (ENSO, MJO, IOD)

High-resolution digital twins of floodplains and cities

Real-time satellite feeds on cyclone trajectory and ocean heat

The adverse impacts of global warming—such as sea-level rise, the proliferation of pests and diseases affecting human health and food production, and the change of functionality of chlorophyll—must be systematically captured, rigorously analysed, and addressed through proactive, advance decision-making.

This fusion of local and global data will allow days to weeks of anticipatory action, rather than hours of late alerts.

Advanced Technology and Early Warning Infrastructure

Cell-broadcast alerts in all three national languages, expanded weather radar, flood-sensing drones, and tsunami-resilient siren networks will be deployed. Community-level sensors in key river basins and tanks will monitor and report in real-time. Infrastructure projects will now embed climate-risk metrics — from cyclone-proof buildings to sea-level-ready roads.

Governance Overhaul

A new centralised authority — Sri Lanka Climate & Earth Systems Resilience Authority — will consolidate environmental, meteorological, Geological, hydrological, and disaster functions. It will report directly to the Cabinet with a real-time national dashboard. District Disaster Units will be upgraded with GN-level digital coordination. Climate literacy will be declared a national priority.

People Power and Community Preparedness

We will train 25,000 village-level disaster wardens and first responders. Schools will run annual drills for floods, cyclones, tsunamis and landslides. Every community will map its local hazard zones and co-create its own resilience plan. A national climate citizenship programme will reward youth and civil organisations contributing to early warning systems, reforestation (riverbank, slopy land and catchment areas) , or tech solutions.

Reviving Ancient Ecological Wisdom

Sri Lanka’s ancestors engineered tank cascades that regulated floods, stored water, and cooled microclimates. Forest belts protected valleys; sacred groves were biodiversity reservoirs. This policy revives those systems:

Restoring 10,000 hectares of tank ecosystems

Conserving coastal mangroves and reintroducing stone spillways

Integrating traditional seasonal calendars with AI forecasts

Recognising Vedda knowledge of climate shifts as part of national risk strategy

Our past and future must align, or both will be lost.

A Global Destination for Resilient Tourism

Climate-conscious travelers increasingly seek safe, secure, and sustainable destinations. Under this policy, Sri Lanka will position itself as the world’s first “climate-safe sanctuary island” — a place where:

Resorts are cyclone- and tsunami-resilient

Tourists receive live hazard updates via mobile apps

World Heritage Sites are protected by environmental buffers

Visitors can witness tank restoration, ancient climate engineering, and modern AI in action

Sri Lanka will invite scientists, startups, and resilience investors to join our innovation ecosystem — building eco-tourism that’s disaster-proof by design.

Resilience as a National Identity

This shift is not just about floods or cyclones. It is about redefining our identity. To be Sri Lankan must mean to live in harmony with nature and to be ready for its changes. Our ancestors did it. The science now supports it. The time has come.

Let us turn Sri Lanka into the world’s first climate-resilient heritage island — where ancient wisdom meets cutting-edge science, and every citizen stands protected under one shield: a disaster-proof nation.

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The minstrel monk and Rafiki the old mandrill in The Lion King – I

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Why is national identity so important for a people? AI provides us with an answer worth understanding critically (Caveat: Even AI wisdom should be subjected to the Buddha’s advice to the young Kalamas):

‘A strong sense of identity is crucial for a people as it fosters belonging, builds self-worth, guides behaviour, and provides resilience, allowing individuals to feel connected, make meaningful choices aligned with their values, and maintain mental well-being even amidst societal changes or challenges, acting as a foundation for individual and collective strength. It defines “who we are” culturally and personally, driving shared narratives, pride, political action, and healthier relationships by grounding people in common values, traditions, and a sense of purpose.’

Ethnic Sinhalese who form about 75% of the Sri Lankan population have such a unique identity secured by the binding medium of their Buddhist faith. It is significant that 93% of them still remain Buddhist (according to 2024 statistics/wikipedia), professing Theravada Buddhism, after four and a half centuries of coercive Christianising European occupation that ended in 1948. The Sinhalese are a unique ancient island people with a 2500 year long recorded history, their own language and country, and their deeply evolved Buddhist cultural identity.

Buddhism can be defined, rather paradoxically, as a non-religious religion, an eminently practical ethical-philosophy based on mind cultivation, wisdom and universal compassion. It is  an ethico-spiritual value system that prioritises human reason and unaided (i.e., unassisted by any divine or supernatural intervention) escape from suffering through self-realisation. Sri Lanka’s benignly dominant Buddhist socio-cultural background naturally allows unrestricted freedom of religion, belief or non-belief for all its citizens, and makes the country a safe spiritual haven for them. The island’s Buddha Sasana (Dispensation of the Buddha) is the inalienable civilisational treasure that our ancestors of two and a half millennia have bequeathed to us. It is this enduring basis of our identity as a nation which bestows on us the personal and societal benefits of inestimable value mentioned in the AI summary given at the beginning of  this essay.

It was this inherent national identity that the Sri Lankan contestant at the 72nd Miss World 2025 pageant held in Hyderabad, India, in May last year, Anudi Gunasekera, proudly showcased before the world, during her initial self-introduction. She started off with a verse from the Dhammapada (a Pali Buddhist text), which she explained as meaning “Refrain from all evil and cultivate good”. She declared, “And I believe that’s my purpose in life”. Anudi also mentioned that Sri Lanka had gone through a lot “from conflicts to natural disasters, pandemics, economic crises….”, adding, “and yet, my people remain hopeful, strong, and resilient….”.

 “Ayubowan! I am Anudi Gunasekera from Sri Lanka. It is with immense pride that I represent my Motherland, a nation of resilience, timeless beauty, and a proud history, Sri Lanka.

“I come from Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka’s first capital, and UNESCO World Heritage site, with its history and its legacy of sacred monuments and stupas…….”.

The “inspiring words” that Anudi quoted are from the Dhammapada (Verse 183), which runs, in English translation: “To avoid all evil/To cultivate good/and to cleanse one’s mind -/this is the teaching of the Buddhas”. That verse is so significant because it defines the basic ‘teaching of the Buddhas’ (i.e., Buddha Sasana; this is how Walpole Rahula Thera defines Buddha Sasana in his celebrated introduction to Buddhism ‘What the Buddha Taught’ first published in1959).

Twenty-five year old Anudi Gunasekera is an alumna of the University of Kelaniya, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in International Studies. She is planning to do a Master’s in the same field. Her ambition is to join the foreign service in Sri Lanka. Gen Z’er Anudi is already actively engaged in social service. The Saheli Foundation is her own initiative launched to address period poverty (i.e., lack of access to proper sanitation facilities, hygiene and health education, etc.) especially  among women and post-puberty girls of low-income classes in rural and urban Sri Lanka.

Young Anudi is primarily inspired by her patriotic devotion to ‘my Motherland, a nation of resilience, timeless beauty, and a proud history, Sri Lanka’. In post-independence Sri Lanka, thousands of young men and women of her age have constantly dedicated themselves, oftentimes making the supreme sacrifice, motivated by a sense of national identity, by the thought ‘This is our beloved Motherland, these are our beloved people’.

The rescue and recovery of Sri Lanka from the evil aftermath of a decade of subversive ‘Aragalaya’ mayhem is waiting to be achieved, in every sphere of national engagement, including, for example, economics, communications, culture and politics, by the enlightened Anudi Gunasekeras and their male counterparts of the Gen Z, but not by the demented old stragglers lingering in the political arena listening to the unnerving rattle of “Time’s winged chariot hurrying near”, nor by the baila blaring monks at propaganda rallies.

Politically active monks (Buddhist bhikkhus) are only a handful out of  the Maha Sangha (the general body of Buddhist bhikkhus) in Sri  Lanka, who numbered just over 42,000  in 2024. The vast majority of monks spend their time quietly attending to their monastic duties. Buddhism upholds social and emotional virtues such as universal compassion, empathy, tolerance and forgiveness that protect a society from the evils of tribalism, religious bigotry and death-dealing religious piety.

Not all monks who express or promote political opinions should be censured. I choose to condemn only those few monks who abuse the yellow robe as a shield in their narrow partisan politics. I cannot bring myself to disapprove of the many socially active monks, who are articulating the genuine problems that the Buddha Sasana is facing today. The two bhikkhus who are the most despised monks in the commercial media these days are Galaboda-aththe Gnanasara and Ampitiye Sumanaratana Theras.  They have a problem with their mood swings. They have long been whistleblowers trying to raise awareness respectively, about spreading religious fundamentalism, especially, violent Islamic Jihadism, in the country and about the vandalising of the Buddhist archaeological heritage sites of the north and east provinces. The two middle-aged monks (Gnanasara and Sumanaratana) belong to this respectable category. Though they are relentlessly attacked in the social media or hardly given any positive coverage of the service they are doing, they do nothing more than try to persuade the rulers to take appropriate action to resolve those problems while not trespassing on the rights of people of other faiths.

These monks have to rely on lay political leaders to do the needful, without themselves taking part in sectarian politics in the manner of ordinary members of the secular society. Their generally demonised social image is due, in my opinion, to  three main reasons among others: 1) spreading misinformation and disinformation about them by those who do not like what they are saying and doing, 2) their own lack of verbal restraint, and 3) their being virtually abandoned to the wolves by the temporal and spiritual authorities.

(To be continued)

By Rohana R. Wasala ✍️

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US’ drastic aid cut to UN poses moral challenge to world

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An UN humanitarian mission in the Gaza. [File: Ashraf Amra/Anadolu Agency]

‘Adapt, shrink or die’ – thus runs the warning issued by the Trump administration to UN humanitarian agencies with brute insensitivity in the wake of its recent decision to drastically reduce to $2bn its humanitarian aid to the UN system. This is a substantial climb down from the $17bn the US usually provided to the UN for its humanitarian operations.

Considering that the US has hitherto been the UN’s biggest aid provider, it need hardly be said that the US decision would pose a daunting challenge to the UN’s humanitarian operations around the world. This would indeed mean that, among other things, people living in poverty and stifling material hardships, in particularly the Southern hemisphere, could dramatically increase. Coming on top of the US decision to bring to an end USAID operations, the poor of the world could be said to have been left to their devices as a consequence of these morally insensitive policy rethinks of the Trump administration.

Earlier, the UN had warned that it would be compelled to reduce its aid programs in the face of ‘the deepest funding cuts ever.’ In fact the UN is on record as requesting the world for $23bn for its 2026 aid operations.

If this UN appeal happens to go unheeded, the possibilities are that the UN would not be in a position to uphold the status it has hitherto held as the world’s foremost humanitarian aid provider. It would not be incorrect to state that a substantial part of the rationale for the UN’s existence could come in for questioning if its humanitarian identity is thus eroded.

Inherent in these developments is a challenge for those sections of the international community that wish to stand up and be counted as humanists and the ‘Conscience of the World.’ A responsibility is cast on them to not only keep the UN system going but to also ensure its increased efficiency as a humanitarian aid provider to particularly the poorest of the poor.

It is unfortunate that the US is increasingly opting for a position of international isolation. Such a policy position was adopted by it in the decades leading to World War Two and the consequences for the world as a result of this policy posture were most disquieting. For instance, it opened the door to the flourishing of dictatorial regimes in the West, such as that led by Adolph Hitler in Germany, which nearly paved the way for the subjugation of a good part of Europe by the Nazis.

If the US had not intervened militarily in the war on the side of the Allies, the West would have faced the distressing prospect of coming under the sway of the Nazis and as a result earned indefinite political and military repression. By entering World War Two the US helped to ward off these bleak outcomes and indeed helped the major democracies of Western Europe to hold their own and thrive against fascism and dictatorial rule.

Republican administrations in the US in particular have not proved the greatest defenders of democratic rule the world over, but by helping to keep the international power balance in favour of democracy and fundamental human rights they could keep under a tight leash fascism and linked anti-democratic forces even in contemporary times. Russia’s invasion and continued occupation of parts of Ukraine reminds us starkly that the democracy versus fascism battle is far from over.

Right now, the US needs to remain on the side of the rest of the West very firmly, lest fascism enjoys another unfettered lease of life through the absence of countervailing and substantial military and political power.

However, by reducing its financial support for the UN and backing away from sustaining its humanitarian programs the world over the US could be laying the ground work for an aggravation of poverty in the South in particular and its accompaniments, such as, political repression, runaway social discontent and anarchy.

What should not go unnoticed by the US is the fact that peace and social stability in the South and the flourishing of the same conditions in the global North are symbiotically linked, although not so apparent at first blush. For instance, if illegal migration from the South to the US is a major problem for the US today, it is because poor countries are not receiving development assistance from the UN system to the required degree. Such deprivation on the part of the South leads to aggravating social discontent in the latter and consequences such as illegal migratory movements from South to North.

Accordingly, it will be in the North’s best interests to ensure that the South is not deprived of sustained development assistance since the latter is an essential condition for social contentment and stable governance, which factors in turn would guard against the emergence of phenomena such as illegal migration.

Meanwhile, democratic sections of the rest of the world in particular need to consider it a matter of conscience to ensure the sustenance and flourishing of the UN system. To be sure, the UN system is considerably flawed but at present it could be called the most equitable and fair among international development organizations and the most far-flung one. Without it world poverty would have proved unmanageable along with the ills that come along with it.

Dehumanizing poverty is an indictment on humanity. It stands to reason that the world community should rally round the UN and ensure its survival lest the abomination which is poverty flourishes. In this undertaking the world needs to stand united. Ambiguities on this score could be self-defeating for the world community.

For example, all groupings of countries that could demonstrate economic muscle need to figure prominently in this initiative. One such grouping is BRICS. Inasmuch as the US and the West should shrug aside Realpolitik considerations in this enterprise, the same goes for organizations such as BRICS.

The arrival at the above international consensus would be greatly facilitated by stepped up dialogue among states on the continued importance of the UN system. Fresh efforts to speed-up UN reform would prove major catalysts in bringing about these positive changes as well. Also requiring to be shunned is the blind pursuit of narrow national interests.

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