Features
The 1977 election and the J R Jayewardene Presidency
Evolving ethnic conflict and emerging Indian factor
The general elections of 1977, which Sirimavo Bandaranaike had called, on July 21 saw another of those dramatic swings of the political pendulum, which had characterized Sri Lanka’s political history since independence. It saw the governing party, the SLFP, reduced from 91 to eight seats. The UNP, which while in opposition between 1970-77 had only 17 seats, won 140 seats in this election. It secured a 5/6th majority in the House, at the time a record for any parliamentary democracy in the world.
The result of the 1977 polls, was interpreted by J R and most people as an indictment of the electorate’s disenchantment at the ‘statist’ policies of the United Front government. Moreover, the extension of the life of Parliament by two years, from 1975 to 1977, and the more or less continuous emergency under which the country had been ruled, had turned the majority of people against the United Front government. The left partners, the LSSP and the CP, had moved out of government at the closing stages.
Many urgent tasks awaited J R Jayewardene. Foremost in his thinking was the economy which had to be freed of the controls which had constrained it. Space had to be found for the private sector to revive and grow. The infrastructure of roads, ports, irrigation and power, on which future development was to rest had to be rehabilitated. J R planned and launched some massive development works, the centerpiece of which was the Mahaweli ganga accelerated programme of integrated irrigation and power development.
It literally changed the face of central Sri Lanka. His principal colleagues in this surge of development were Gamini Dissanayake and Lalith Athulathmudali in irrigation and port development respectively, and Premadasa to whom he entrusted a wide programme of rural housing and urban renewal and rehabilitation.
But the infusion of a new dynamism in directing this major policy shift from a controlled to an open economy needed, in J R’s view, the reform of the 1972 Constitution. The huge majority which the government had secured, guaranteed that these far-reaching structural changes could be effected. A series of amendments to the existing Constitution, pushed through in 1977 and 1978 itself (with the help of the more than 2/3rd parliamentary majority J R had secured), saw the Westminster system of prime ministerial government radically altered. The president’s role became preeminent with the executive being endowed with enormous power.
The critics called it Bonapartism’ looking at the concentration of power in the hands of the president. The president was henceforth to be head of state and head of government combining both the `dignified’ and ‘efficient’ aspects of state leadership. The prime minister’s role was henceforth to be no more than that of a minister. Executive power was to be exercised by the president. He could choose his Cabinet from among the members of parliament.
The reforms also brought in proportional representation in the election of members of parliament, in place of the first-past-the-post system which had prevailed since independence. Proportional representation not only eliminated the possibility of massive swings at the elections, but also locked in the 1978 constitution into an almost impossible-to-change situation because of the difficulty of ever again obtaining a two-third majority in Parliament.
Attempts at Resolving the Ethnic Question – The District Development Councils of 1980
J R soon came up with a proposal for limited decision making at the level of the district based on the experience of the District Political Authority and the District Minister System. This was the development councils’ idea which was more an attempt at democratizing decentralized power rather than the devolution of power. The final form of the Act which came out of the work of a commission headed by Victor Tennekoon, a former Chief Justice gave limited powers to the councils approximating those carried out by village councils and town councils. So it was not much but at least provided members of parliament with some local means of funding and power in local development.
J R chose me along with a few secretaries to assist in the work of identifying work which could be assigned to the development councils. I was amazed at how little of their vast powers the ministers of the government were prepared to ‘surrender’ to the councils. And much of what was given could of course be yet taken back because the councils would be chaired by the district minister who were all government members of parliament.
Although the council’s powers were extremely limited the TULF was prepared to make it work. However the experience of the DDC elections in Jaffna scheduled to be held in June 1981 but extensively flawed as a result of the exertions of some prominent UNP ministers, and the subsequent burning of the Jaffna Library by reportedly the police, did not augur well for the success of this initiative.The moderates in the TULF had to give in to the young extremist militants in the wings and the downward spiral of events which culminated in the violence of 1983 became unstoppable.
The Indian Factor and the Response of J R Jayewardene
India’s involvement especially between 1980 and 1989 in the Sri Lankan ethnic issue was precipitated, I think, directly by the 1983 happenings. Although I was not in the country at the time and was in London for five years, from 1984 to 1989, I always had the feeling that India would involve itself more and more in Sri Lankan affairs as the conflict with the Tamil militant groups intensified. During the violence of 1983 itself, while I was handling Essential Services, there was constant concern being expressed by both the Indian High Commission in Colombo, and the official visitors from India on the state of affairs relating to the Tamil community.
The refugee camps and welfare centers were under my charge, and I recall in particular in 1983, the visit of G Parathasarathy – one of Indira Gandhi’s closest advisors – who wanted to see me in regard to the conditions of the Welfare Centers. I spent two days with him going around the camps and listening with him to the tirade of complaints of their sufferings during the July riots and their lack of hope about the future. At a meeting with the Indian High Commissioner, Parathasarathy expressed his deep concern at the unsatisfactory situation and referred to India needing to concern itself of the plight of Tamil people in Sri Lanka.
This led the Indira Gandhi administration to deliberately build up the strength of the Tamil militants by training and supplying arms in order that they, the militants, could withstand any more attacks against them by either odd, lawless groups like in 1993 or by agencies of the state itself. References made from time to time in books on India’s involvement in Sri Lanka by Indian authors or in the Indian media would make us believe that many of these efforts were orchestrated by RAW – the Research and Analysis Wing of the Indian intelligence services, which apparently operated close to the prime minister’s office.
Looked at from the Tamil side one could come to the conclusion that the strategy paid off. It is indeed curious that, although since 1983 there had been several incidents where the loss on the government side has been far greater than the 13 soldiers ambushed at Thinnaveli in July 1983 (which precipitated the riots), there have been virtually no retaliatory attacks on Tamil civilians in Colombo or in the other Sinhala majority areas since then.
Colombo was attacked several times by the LTTE since 1995, in particular – the bombing of the Galadari Hotel, the attack on the Central Bank, the armed incursion into the Oil Installations at Kolonnawa, and even the attempt at ramming a lorry into the Dalada Maligawa in Kandy and there was never a backlash by the Sinhalese against the Tamil civilian population in Colombo. The popular explanation to this is that those who may have perpetuated such action have now become older and wiser and therefore desisted from carrying out such tit-for-tat operations. Of course another explanation would be that the existence of a potentially effective `from the Tamil point of view’ further counter-strike by LTTE forces might also be a reason for deterring such vigilante groups from contemplating any such action.
The Monarchical Tradition
J R Jayewardene liked to trace his origins back 300 years to a family known as the Tudugala’s. To the name Tudugala was added the name Wijewardene on the conferment of a British honour, at the beginning of the 20th century. J R’s interest in history and lineage was pervasive. When he became the first executive president of Sri Lanka in 1978, he used to take pride in saying that he was the last in the line of rulers of the island in an unbroken succession dating back over 2500 years!
When J R was minister of state in the Dudley Senanayake Government of 1965-70, a former Government Archivist, H O Paulusz was requested to publish a book on the Tudugala family’. This contains an interesting history of J R’s mother’s ancestors.
The Tudugala saga goes back to the 17th century when two brothers, Tennekoon Mudiyanse and Tennekoon Madummaralla, both great-grandsons of Prince Vidiya Bandara distinguished themselves as generals in King Rajasinghe II’s army. But that success also led, as in many other instances in Rajasinghe’s time, to their downfall.
Tennekoon Mudiyanse was driven into exile and his brother imprisoned and probably executed. Madummaralla’s son, Tennekoon Appuhamy, who was the Disawa of Sabaragamuwa, was also executed by the King in 1766. However, his wife and children, who were residing then in the Dutch Provinces, prospered and the family history was traced through the Dutch records and land tombus, a register containing particulars regarding land ownership established during Dutch rule.
There are records of Don Philip Tudugala who was born in 1804 in the village of Tudugala near Kalutara. Don Philip, who was the founder of the modern branch of the family came to live in Colombo in the village of Sedawatte on the banks of the Kelani ganga. He soon became one of the richest Sinhalese merchants of the time.
It was building boom time in the city of Colombo, after the construction of the harbour breakwater and Don Peter Tudugala prospered from the city’s development, supplying timber, sand and bricks which came down the Kelani ganga to Sedawatte. He invested his income in real estate and took on the name of Wijewardene, when conferred with an honour by the British government.
Don Philip left seven sons and two daughters. Among these were DC and DR; DC, the author of the Revolt in the Temple, DR (Don Richard), the founder of the Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd. (Lake House).The others achieved distinction in commerce and other professions.
His eldest daughter married a Jayewardene, who became a Justice. J R ( Junius Richard) was his son. Helena Dep Weerasinghe, the widow of Don Philip Tudugala and J R’s grandmother, was the benefactor of the ancient vihare, the Rajamaha Vihare of Kelaniya. The influence of the family was paramount in the area, and when J R got interested in politics, it was only natural that he chose Kelaniya as his constituency.
(Excerpted from Rendering Unto Caesar by Bradman Weerakoon)
Features
Regime change and the vacuum:Strategic lessons of Iraq and Libya
by Col. (R) Nalin Herath
There is a question that the international community must periodically ask itself: What happens to a State after its regime has been ousted?
The question is particularly relevant when examining Iraq and Libya. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were authoritarian rulers. Their governments were associated with political repression, human-rights violations and the suppression of political opposition. None of this should be ignored or excused. But recognising the failures of authoritarian rule does not prevent us from asking another, equally important strategic question:
Did the removal of these regimes adequately prepare for what came next?
The experience of Iraq and Libya suggests that removing a ruler is considerably easier than replacing the political, administrative and security architecture around that ruler.
Danger of confusing regime change with State reconstruction
A state is more than its leader. It consists of institutions, security forces, civil servants, courts, political structures, infrastructure, economic systems and, perhaps most importantly, an accepted monopoly over the legitimate use of force. When an authoritarian system has concentrated enormous power around one individual, removing that individual can expose weaknesses that were previously hidden. The strategic mistake is to assume that once the dictator has gone, a democratic and stable state will naturally emerge. History does not support such an assumption. The aftermath of Iraq demonstrates this particularly clearly. Following the 2003 invasion, the Coalition Provisional Authority issued Order No. 2, formally dissolving the Iraqi Ministry of Defence and the Iraqi Army, among other security institutions. A US congressional report later documented the enormous consequences of this decision, including the disappearance of hundreds of thousands of military personnel from the institutional framework of the state. Whatever the intentions behind the decision, the strategic consequence was that an established security structure had to be rebuilt while the country was simultaneously experiencing political upheaval and growing violence. That is a dangerous combination.
Iraq: Removing the structure before building the replacement
Saddam Hussein’s government was unquestionably authoritarian. It also reflected a complicated sectarian and political structure in which members of the Sunni minority occupied disproportionate positions of power despite being a demographic minority. But the question for strategic planners should not simply be whether Saddam deserved to remain in power. The question should have been:
What institutional structure would replace the system once he was removed?
An army can be politically controlled without being politically representative. A bureaucracy can serve an authoritarian government while still providing essential state functions. A security institution can be reformed without necessarily being destroyed. The distinction between reforming institutions and eliminating institutions is therefore critical. The post-2003 experience demonstrated the consequences of institutional disruption. Security vacuums contributed to insurgency and instability, while the process of rebuilding Iraq’s security forces took place amid an increasingly deteriorating security environment. The lesson is not that authoritarian institutions should never be reformed. The lesson is that state capacity should not be casually destroyed without a credible replacement.
Libya: prosperity, authoritarianism and institutional fragility
Libya presents an even more complicated case. Gaddafi’s government was authoritarian and deeply personalised. Political freedom was severely restricted, and the security apparatus was deliberately structured around regime survival. Yet Libya, under Gaddafi, also used substantial oil revenues to fund education, healthcare, infrastructure and social services. World Bank data from around the end of the Gaddafi era show life expectancy reaching approximately 75 years by 2011, skilled attendance at birth at 100 percent and measles immunisation at 98 percent. This does not prove that Gaddafi’s system was politically legitimate. It demonstrates something different: economic and social outcomes can coexist with authoritarian political structures.
The Great Man-Made River illustrates the scale of Libya’s investment ambitions. The World Bank described the project as one of the world’s largest engineering schemes, involving thousands of kilometres of planned pipelines to transport water from deep desert aquifers toward the populated coastal belt. The original project was estimated at approximately US$ 25 billion over several phases. Again, this should not become nostalgia for dictatorship. It should become a lesson in state capacity.
What happened after Gaddafi?
The post-2011 experience is perhaps the clearest illustration of the vacuum problem. Libya did not simply move from dictatorship to a consolidated democratic state. Instead, competing armed groups, political factions and institutions emerged. A UN economic and social affairs analysis concluded that the fall of the Gaddafi regime exposed weak state institutions and that the post-Gaddafi period was characterised by the proliferation of armed militias and institutional fragmentation.
The World Bank has similarly described how the security vacuum allowed armed groups to expand, while attempts to integrate them into the formal security apparatus produced a hybrid system in which state institutions and powerful armed groups operated alongside one another. This is the heart of the lesson. The consequences of regime change were also evident in Libya. The 2012 Benghazi attack, later portrayed in 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, illustrated the security vacuum that emerged after Gaddafi’s fall. The collapse of central authority allowed militias and competing armed groups to fill the space left by weakened state institutions. The lesson is clear: removing a regime may achieve military victory, but without a credible plan to rebuild the state, victory can quickly become a security vacuum.
When the state withdraws, something else occupies the space. If the replacement is not a legitimate national institution, the vacuum can be filled by militias, tribes, ideological movements, criminal networks or competing political authorities. The vacuum does not remain empty.
Terrorism question
There is another uncomfortable issue. Authoritarian regimes frequently suppress political and armed movements through coercive security systems. When those systems disappear abruptly, previously contained organisations can find new operating space. This does not mean that dictatorship is an appropriate method of counterterrorism. It means that counterterrorism cannot be separated from State capacity. The international community therefore needs to distinguish between defeating a particular terrorist organisation and maintaining the institutional conditions that prevent multiple armed actors from competing for power. The destruction of one regime does not automatically eliminate the forces that created insecurity. Sometimes it creates an environment in which those forces multiply.
Strategic mistake: winning the war but losing the peace
Military intervention can have a clearly defined operational objective. State reconstruction does not. A military campaign may successfully remove a government in weeks or months. Building legitimate institutions can take decades.This creates a fundamental strategic asymmetry. The shorter the planning horizon for intervention, the greater the danger of a long-term vacuum. The international community therefore needs to think beyond the first question: How do we remove the regime?
It must ask: Who governs the country the next morning? Who controls the borders? Who controls the security forces? Who pays government employees? Who maintains electricity, water and hospitals? Who protects critical infrastructure? Who administers justice? Who prevents armed groups from becoming alternative governments? Who provides political legitimacy? And perhaps most importantly: Who possesses the authority to enforce the decisions of the new state? If there are no convincing answers, regime change is only the beginning of the problem.
The lesson should not be that the United States or its allies should never intervene. Nor should it be that Saddam Hussein or Muammar Gaddafi should be rehabilitated as models of governance. The lesson is more practical. Regime change must never be confused with state-building.
Before dismantling an established political order, external powers need a credible understanding of the institutions that will replace it. Security-sector reform should normally distinguish between individuals who must be removed and institutions that must be preserved. A national army may need reform. A ministry may need restructuring. A security service may need accountability and civilian oversight. But destroying institutional capacity without having an operational replacement can create consequences far beyond the original objective.
Wider geopolitical lesson
The consequences of Iraq and Libya did not remain within their borders. State fragmentation affects neighbouring countries, migration, organised crime, arms trafficking, terrorism, energy markets and regional power competition. In today’s interconnected world, a failed transition in one country can become a security problem for an entire region. That is why intervention planning should include not only military objectives but also political, economic, humanitarian and security-sector objectives. The most important planning document may therefore not be the operational plan for removing the regime. It may be the plan for Day One after the regime has disappeared.
History should not be written as a simple choice between dictatorship and democracy. The real strategic challenge is more complicated. Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi were dictators. Their governments committed serious abuses, and their populations had legitimate grievances. But the failures of authoritarian rule do not automatically justify the destruction of state institutions without a credible plan for rebuilding them. The experience of Iraq and Libya demonstrates a fundamental principle of international security: A political vacuum is not neutral space. Someone will fill it. If legitimate national institutions cannot fill that space, armed groups, sectarian interests, extremist organisations or foreign-backed factions may do so. The ultimate lesson for the United States, its allies and the wider international community is therefore straightforward:
Removing a regime may win the immediate battle. Building a legitimate, functioning and secure state determines whether the intervention succeeds in the long term. The world should learn to ask not only “How do we remove the dictator?”. It must also ask:
“What happens to the country when he is gone?”
That may be the most important strategic question of all.
(The writer is the Secretary General of the Ceylon Chamber of Shipping, former Director General of the Institute of National Security Studies (INSS), and former Spokesman of the Ministry of Defence. He is also a Non-Resident Fellow at the London Dialogue. His areas of expertise include international relations, geopolitics, maritime affairs, national security, economic policy, and strategic governance. He is a consultant at JITT Group and a member of World Pace Board.).
Features
‘Death at the Sign of the Rook’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 23
By Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha
As I have noted with regard to the adventures of John Rebus, I am indebted to Dinali Fernando and her husband Steve for whole hosts of thrillers. The latter strongly recommended Kate Atkinson when I borrowed four books. I wondered about this, for I had not been too impressed with her debut novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, which was amongst the entries I had to judge for the Eurasian section of the Commonwealth Writing Prize. Two decades later, I had forgotten what it had been about.
But I am glad Steve persuaded me to read her. Kate Atkinson is distinctively British, and Death at the Sign of the Rook is set in a country house and the surrounding village, and seems a modern descendant of the laidback Agatha Christies I so much enjoy.
There are, however, many differences in that we have a policeman who can go rogue, like Rebus, with again a female sidekick who has a mind of her own, again like Rebus. But Jackson Brodie has retired and set up as a private investigator, while Reggie, a young lady, is still in the police.
There is a lesbian couple living in the converted dairy of the manor house, as has occurred in Agatha Christie too, in A Murder is Announced. But they are peripheral to the story, unlike Ben, the brother of one of them who left the army after losing a leg in Afghanistan. When he turns up at the Manor House to shelter from a snowstorm, along with its chatelaine, Lady Milton, he is asked to answer the door as various characters turn up, including Jackson and Reggie, who then starts fantasising about him.
The others who turn up are two couples, one from America, who have paid for a murder weekend at the hotel. The family is impoverished, and has sold lots of pictures to survive, but most recently a Turner had been stolen, almost certainly by Lady Milton’s housekeeper Sophie, who vanished one night along with the picture. Reggie had been involved in that investigation, but there had been no trace of either picture or young lady.
Jackson Brodie suspects a connection between that theft and the one he has been called in to investigate, which has not been reported to the police. The picture hung opposite the bed of an old woman whose carer vanished after she died, along with it. Her children, adopted twins, have asked Jackson to investigate and also try to trace the carer, though he suspects something strange in that they did not go to the police.
Brodie, in studying the stolen art, is also struck by the disappearance of a Rembrandt from a house in Scotland, along with a member of the cleaning staff. He thinks the three women might be the same one.
But Brodie’s assumption that the three women who vanished when valuable pictures did were identical would not have helped except that Beatrice, as she was also called, kept turning up, including to the funeral home where the old lady’s body was kept. And then that picture turned up, in the village church, and was found by the local vicar, Simon Cate, whose life story is also a prominent feature of the novel. He was an aspiring actor but then smitten by faith, and became a priest, but in time he lost his faith. His wife left him after the death of their son, and he is now in this backwater, where he feels he is of no use to anyone. But he has a great feel for living beings, and his most successful service has been one in which he blessed pets. And he was deeply concerned about the bees that Ben looks after for his sister and her wife.
He too staggers into the manor house in the midst of the storm, in which everyone concerned loses their way comprehensively. But amongst those Ben lets in is a man in a tracksuit with cuts and bruises, who then vanishes after he has been led to a bedroom, when Ben went in search of brandy. We soon work out that it is the escaped murderer about whom Reggie has been alerted.
Simon also turns up, through the back door, carrying the picture and also a gun, for he has found the dead body of one of his parishioners when he went to her house in search of his mobile phone. She had been shot and he had picked up the gun he found there. But he could not tell the police, for though he called he had lost his voice, and for the last few days had communicated only through writing.
This chaotic mix of characters at the manor house is further complicated by the group of players putting on the murder mystery play though some members have either cried off or died before reaching the venue. So, there is much doubling up and confusion over who is an actor and who is not.
The grand now largely empty rooms of the manor house, and its various odd passages and multiple doors, make it a splendid set for the lunacy that runs on and on. Reggie finds herself in a pantry Atkinsonwith a dead body, though this turns out to be the nanny who fell down the stairs and was put there by Lady Milton’s younger son. And there is high drama on the roof when the murderer nearly kills Ben, but he is saved by Reggie, and when he tries to kill Brody with an axe, he is shot by Beatrice, who has been the maid who served at the dinner before the murder mystery play, and explains to Brody how she has managed all her thefts.
And then in the melee, she vanishes on a motorbike, along with the daughter of the old lady’s adopted daughter, the only person who seemed to grieve at the funeral, and to whom the old lady had left her house in a codicil to
her will, which her children have not known about. She leaves the picture to the carer, but it is brought to Simon Cate as he lies in hospital, recovering from a heart attack which adds confusion to the play.
Wonderfully convoluted, but all very clear, despite the headlong pace of the book and its shifts from one scene to another, from one character to another (or rather combinations of them) and from one-time span to another. A writer and a detective well worth looking out for. e more books by her on Dinali’s shelves.
Features
Safety, security and teamwork in aviation
by Capt. (Ret.).G.A. Fernando, MBA
There are three essential components to a commercial airline operation: safety, security and teamwork.
Aviation and teamwork at the ‘sharp’ end of a commercial aircraft, i.e. the flight deck, is unique. Unlike many other teams, it may be quite literally the first and the last time a particular combination of small teams of two, three, or four individual airmen (or women) will fly together. Sometimes even in the same airline that employs them.
Therefore, to make conditions safe and practical, while understanding and trusting tech other, they have to rely on a series of Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs), and ‘Normal’ and ‘Emergency’ checklists for every conceivable situation. That is, to be able to do the right things, and do things right. In fact, there is a saying in aviation to the effect that ‘if you make a mistake in aviation, be original and make a new one’.
To ensure that safety standards are constantly maintained, airline pilots’ proficiency is tested every six months, in simulators, under the supervision of examiners from the civil aviation regulator. In Sri Lanka that organisaton is the Civil Aviation Authority-Sri Lanka (CAASL). Three simulator checks are conducted every 12 months in keeping with the tenet that ‘practice makes perfect’. A pithy adage not confined to the world of aviation warns that ‘prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance’.
The simulator exercises include rejected takeoffs, including in cross-wind situations, landings, engine fires and/or engine failures from a variety of causes, cabin pressurisation failure, precision and non-precision approaches, and landings in bad visibility – amongst other conditions that could be expected in actual flight.
In addition, a flight in a real airplane, on a regular passenger service under the supervision of an examiner from the airline, is undertaken to ensure that the company’s standard practices and procedures are carried out and maintained as prescribed in the airline’s manuals. These publications are in turn approved by the national regulator.
Finally, flight crew members must take a written test annually, on emergency equipment locations and procedures, with 90% as the pass mark.
Since the mid-1980s it has been mandatory for airline pilots to undertake a Crew Resource Management (CRM) programme once every two years. This training essentially emphasises what to do and what not to do to, in a specific emergency situation, or even during normal operations, to make the team cohesive and effective. During the course, the CRM facilitators discuss recent incidents and accidents that have occurred. Results of those events are recorded and could be retrieved, when necessary, by the official aviation bodies.
Not unexpectedly, it is demanding on a pilot to fulfill these requirements on a regular basis throughout his/her career, along with presenting for a bi-annual medical examination, all with the objective of retaining one’s licence to operate an aircraft. It may not be understood, therefore, by persons outside the aviation industry, or even some working in other aspects of an airline organisation, that it is often the passion for flight that keeps many pilots doing what they do to earn a living.
Security
Another important factor is the challenge of maintaining security in all aspects of airline operations, not least in the cockpit. The challenges are many, with new ones surfacing almost every day. It is therefore essential to be always prepared for the activities and ‘methods’ of perpetrators seeking to wreak evil on an aircraft and its occupants. As it is impossible for any airline or national security organisation to cover all aspects, systematic management of risks to effect a safe outcome becomes imperative.
Flydubai Incident
In the recent Flydubai incident of 30 September, 2026, a first officer (co-pilot) attacked the captain of the flight with a crash axe to accomplish his sinister motives, into which investigations are continuing. For the time being, it prompts the questions: should the crash axe be easily accessible to the flight crew? Or even be there at all? I believe it is a case of assessing the greater risk.
With regard to that event, and the circumstances that led to it, other deterrents could have been applied more thoroughly. For example, more thorough screening of pilots’ and other crewpersons’ backgrounds, with emphasis on their mental health, ideological affiliations and previous employment history. Separately, during a time of conflict in the Middle East, should Flydubai have even been operating between Dubai and Tel Aviv? Notwithstanding that cost-cutting and profit maximisation are key aims of any business, an airline’s apparent failure to conduct adequate psychological profiling of flight crew members, while continuing to operate ‘profitable’ routes, regardless of potential danger, can only be regarded and condemned as greed and disregard for human lives.
( Captain. Fernando, RCyAF, SLAF, Air Ceylon, Air Lanka, Singapore Airlines (SIA), SriLankan Airlines, Former Chief Pilot, Air Lanka Boeing 737, Former Deputy Chief Pilot, Lockheed L 1011, Former Crew Resource Management (CRM) Facilitator, SIA, Former Deputy Director (Air Operations) CAASL, Former President, Aircraft Owners and Operators Association Sri Lanka (AOAOASL), President, The Colombo Flying Club, Representative for Aviation, Organisation of Professional Associations (OPA), Hony, and Member Sri Lanka Society of Transport and Logistics.)
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