Features
Sri Lanka’s Dry Zone; a Misnomer, and its repercussions
By Dr. J. Handawela
jameshandawela@gmail.com
Background
Since Independence the key development policy pursued by the Lankan government has been large scale irrigated paddy farming in the Dry zone (DZ), in the hope of ushering in the same prosperity of its past, particularly the Parakramabahu era (1153-1186). Perakum Yugayak Nevathath Arambaw was a widely flown rhetoric. However, even by about 1985, when the much banked on mighty Mahaweli irrigation project was almost complete, there were no clear signs of the expecte prosperity ever dawning, prompting some citizens to feel skeptical about the whole approach followed to develop the DZ, and thereby the country. I am one of them and see the reason for it as the authorities considering the DZ as being plagued by dryness, farming there requiring additional water as an external input.
In 1994, after leaving formal employment bound to the government, opportunities came on my way to gain a clearer understanding of the DZ’s climate, particularly its implications on agriculture on DZ land. These opportunities, experienced for the first time in my career life as a student of soil science, took me into remote parts of the DZ, spared by the bulldozer that had ripped off DZ’s land to launch major paddy irrigation schemes in all peripheral DZ districts. There, I could see signs of a range of traditional land development measures applied to enable farming, both in a ruined state and in live form. Where it was live, I saw the environment and life there being pleasantly close to nature and safe and sound unlike in major paddy irrigation project lands I had been long accustomed to.
Excitement caused by seeing them evoked an interest in me to seek authentic knowledge on social and farming history of DZ, over and above genuine praise showered on it by local senior farmers. I read Mahawansa and writings of R.L. Brohier, Robert Knox, Leonard Woolf, Emerson Tennent , D L O Mendis, M.S. Randhawa etc., all for the first time in my life, deeply regretting not having read them before.
Following is a gist of what I learned, much of which newly.
Traditional DZ farming has been heavily reliant on local rainfall, received during the main rainy season from October to December and the minor one in April. It has been a highly successful habitat development and farming enterprise.
It has been crucial for it to commence with the onset of rain in October, not only because it broke the four month long rainless weather but also to benefit from the atmospheric character in October over the area which is highly favourable for seed germination and plant growth. The latter reason is implicit in the Sinhala term for October, Vap, which means (time for) seed sowing. Of the two types of crop fields the farmers had: upland Hena and lowland paddy plot, where the farmers first rushed to with the onset of rain was the former for obvious reasons, letting the latter wait until it had also received some runoff and seepage water from adjacent upland and become fully water secure for a crop of paddy.
Though much welcome, the seasonal rain is often too harsh for direct use, as it is, for cropping. Its high intensity causing soil erosion and heavy rains falling over two to three straight days causing flood need to be addressed, and the impacts mitigated and overcome. For that the farmers had chosen individual small watersheds which offered a suitable land base to confront rain, tame its harshness and harness its water for farming, all within their confines. This enabled hazard free farming when it rained and where it rained, without having to forego early rainy time from the cropping calendar or to provide for undue storage and transmission (water) losses we hear of in conventional irrigation.
Specific rain water management measures applied within small watersheds are earthen bunds falling into four types: (1) slender long strips of bund (Wetiya) on the upper aspects of the watershed to delay runoff build-up and slow down runoff flow rate, (2) gulley plugs across transient stream channels to hold up water as water holes ( Wala), (3) further down the stream channel, bunds to hold relatively larger volumes of water Wila and at the very bottom of the small watershed, a larger and stronger bund to hold even more water, both on land surface and in the ground around and beneath it Wewa. All four devices have provision for surplus water to flow out, without hurting the bunds.
Worth reiterating, the unique land layout of the small watershed provides the ideal physical landscape structure to apply the above mentioned measures to delay runoff initiation, slow down runoff flow, check soil erosion and give more time for water to seep into the soil and the ground below, particularly in association with Wewa. They enable commencing upland cropping with early rains, growing of crops fully relying on local rainwater, and equally importantly, generating a ground water resource from rain water.
Crop production could be extended beyond October-December rainy season by choosing crops adapted to lower soil moisture conditions. In some years, it could extend to link up with shorter duration April rains, enabling a cropping period of about eight months. Farmers grew a variety of crops producing a basket of food staples (not only rice) for year round use. The ground water resource generated saw them through the rain water scarce months June-September. All these, thanks to judicious management of rain water, on time and in-situ.
Above observations point to the realization that the wet seasons, October- December and April deserve full credit as characterizing the climate of the DZ, adding value to it and making their beneficial effects felt through the whole climatic year: crops from October- May and ground water, year round.
What matters most is the wisdom the ancient farmers had to understanding that the DZ was wet, at least adequately and not full scale dry. Perhaps it is this wisdom that had brought prosperity to the area, at a time when irrigated paddy farming was little known, prior to initiation of Rajarata kingdom, as reported by archaeaologists Roland Silva and Shiran Deraniyagala ,separately.
Look at the successful farming enterprise in Jaffna, which is even less wet than the inland DZ but manages with local rain, with no need for extraneous water. The reason behind is natural shallow aquifers, which store surplus rain water as a ready source of water for farmer use during the dry months. This makes Jaffna not lament over dryness but appreciate and enjoy its wetness. Ancient DZ farmers, whose soil was less porous to take in rain water and had no natural aquifers, had overcome those limitations by giving more time for rain water to seep into their soil of low porosity and creating an artificial ground water storage facility in association with Wewa in the farmed small watershed.
By the way the term Wewa, being a derivative from “Wapi” – Sanskrit term for water- well, is not a spring or a source of water for flood irrigating a downstream crop as many of us take it to be. It in Sri Lanka is a well of some sort that has created its own ground water support base. In Gujarat, India where the very term Wew is in use, it refers to large wells dug into deep ground water, and they are for community use and habitat enrichment and categorically not for irrigation.
What is stated above is an ideal transcending from my personal experience and observations on a topic of interest and concern to me. Key inferences possible from it are that the climate of DZ is more wet than dry, the ancient farmers saw it in correct perspective and made a success of it, but the modern DZ developers have caught the wrong end of the stick. I want to share these thoughts with like minded researchers with a view to reassessing our current knowledge and understanding of DZ’s climate and its bearing on farming on its land. Emphasize that this is not a simple matter to shrug off but to be concerned with as a real issue with serious repercussions.
DZ ; a misnomer
For an area to be called dry its potential evapotranspiration over the year must exceed annual average rainfall. On this account the Sri Lanka’s DZ is not dry. Though not as wet as the Wet Zone, its annual average rainfall of about 1500 mm is only 25% less than the lower end annual rainfall figure for the Wet Zone, making it 75% as wet as the latter, and hence not its exact opposite.
This rain, though somewhat limited to four months, October – December and April, its residual effect is long lasting rendering the whole period from October to May quite wet during which its evergreen natural vegetation, symbolic of wet environments, not showing any major sign of withering. This leaves only four months June- September with a semblance of dryness.
DZ’s relief with soft contours shows that what has shaped its terrain is wetness and not dryness. In dry environments the contours are rugged.
Common climate related hazards in the area are soil erosion by runoff and damage to crop, property and even death by drowning by flooding, all of them problems associated with wet environments. Drought related incidents like forest fires, heat waves, death from desiccation etc. are very rare.
Most visitors to Sri Lanka see it as a green island. They would not say so if they saw two thirds of its land which make up the DZ as dry.All these point to DZ’s climate being more wet than dry, with the wet months October-December showing up as its most characteristic and hence the climate defining season, affirming that the term DZ is a misnomer for the area referred to by it.
Repercussions
The modern developers, who chose to focus on DZ’s dryness which is a mere negativity – deficiency of water – as its diagnostic character and the key limitation to its development over its wetness, which is a positivity – abundance of much desired water, though fraught with risks which however could be overcome by judicious management as discussed above – may not have foreseen its serious repercussions. The more serious of them are;
Spurning of DZ’s wetness-reliant traditional farming, which is a unique system of indigenously evolved watershed farming as being primitive, destructive on forest etc. denying it policy support and access to new scientific knowledge on modern farming has led to its degeneration and extinction with no prospect for its survival. This is a clear case of elimination and eradication of a valued heritage.
A key component of the above system of farming is Hena farming, It has been singled out and unjustifiably blacklisted as being utterly destructive on forest, more strictly subjected to severely restrictive regulations against its practice. Dereliction of such a farming system, that is so well adapted to the DZ environment and when wisely practiced is not only productive but also supportive of local ecology can lead to its extinction.
Overemphasis on dryness focused farming has led to excessive forest clearing to make provision for accumulation and application of water as an external farm input has also led to supply shortages of local timber, locally grown non-rice foods, rapid decline in forest cover, worsening human- elephant conflict etc.
Most farmers provided with water for free as an external input too fall into the category of state subsidy dependent population, casting doubts as to whether they are net producers relative to heavy investment made on them and ecosystem sacrificed to support them. Statistical records show that contribution made to GDP from districts where such farming is widespread is very low.
In the DZ drainage system, primary valleys are the source points of stream water. When their wet weather hydrology is properly managed for wetness-reliant farming, downstream flooding gets mitigated. This helps downstream land use. Modern management measures designed on the basis that the DZ is dry consider upstream small watersheds as unworthy of management and best left as mere catchments to extract water, without involving them even as stakeholders in rain water harnessing. Its repercussions are increased downstream flood hazard during rain and worsened water scarcity during dry weather, particularly in drier years.
Modern dryness-focused farming need time to accumulate and store runoff water in reservoirs, during which farming is not possible. Farming time thus lost is the month of October, which amounts to the most favourable time for crop establishment (Vap) being lost to farming, utter loss of once in a year opportunity.
All these repercussions are due to trying to adapt to dryness, to fill a deficiency gap, to eliminate a negativity. Instead, if the effort had been directed to dwelling on the main rainy season, banking on its positivities: abundance of water, favourable atmospheric character in October for crop establishment, they may have been avoided. Whether the culprit behind this mishap is the term DZ warrants attention.
Recently UN Climatologists Have come out with a clear assertion, that of the two extreme climatic incidents, namely drought and flood, experienced in a given environment, what really needs to be overcome is flood hazard while drought is a problem that could and should be endured instead of struggling to deal with it. It appears that the ancient DZ farmers had followed it centuries ago.
Conclusion
In conclusion let me present a relevant case study extracted from a newspaper article. Thanthirimale in Anuradhapura district has been a traditional farming village where local rain had been well utilized for farming. It had a system of well managed upstream watersheds and a downstream Wewa, and paddy lands below it. This was modernized in 1950s, by letting the upstream watersheds go into abandonment to merely serve/sub-serve as unmanaged water catchment area for the downstream Wewa, which was widened and capacity increased to provide irrigation water to an expanded paddy acreage below it, now not mainly for the customary Maha season but also for the Yala season as well (hopefully).
A knowledgeable senior farmer there says that prior to modernization the community there raised a variety of crops with rain, had adequate food and enough of forest products including timber, seldom faced floods or drinking water scarcity. After modernization, food production got limited to paddy farming below the Wewa, flooding became more frequent and intense because the upstream area had no control over its runoff water. Water stress during dry months, particularly in less wet years, became more acute because all land upstream of the Wewa no longer subscribed to local ground water resource development.
He says the current system that focuses on mitigating (a seeming) drought is less effective than the traditional system which made the most out of the wetness of the rainy season by slowing down water loss as runoff, mitigating local flooding, commencing cropping at the very beginning (Vap) of the rainy season and continued even beyond the rainy season, and saving a share of water as ground water in every small watershed in and around their Wew. In addition it mitigated downstream flooding during times of very high rainfall and also enabled a better dry weather base flow in the stream that left the area.Therefore, it appears that the term DZ has given a distorted meaning to the climate of the so called DZ and misled the modern day DZ developers. An issue that deserves scientific attention.
(The author has been a researcher attached to the Department of Agriculture from 1968-1994 and thereafter an independent researcher. Holds B.Sc (Agriculture) degree from Peradeniya University and Ph.D. (Agriculture) from Kyoto University, Japan.)
Features
Lunatics of genius
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.
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
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
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.
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