Features
The build-up, 1962 coup d’etat, the aftermath and secret mission to London
Continuing Mrs. Bandaranaike’s first term as PM
(Excerpted from Rendering Unto Caesar, by Bradman Weerakoon)
Although her political aspiration was “to lighten the burden on the suffering masses” Sirimavo soon found that the economic realities would not allow her a free hand. In the early sixties the terms of trade, which had been favourable in the fifties, declined sharply. The Korean war boom had run its course. The rise in the price of tea had plateaued and the trend was now downwards. Our external assets were diminishing and when Felix became finance minister he had no alternative but to cut down on imports drastically.
Use of the scarce foreign exchange resource was controlled and foreign travel, education and medical treatment abroad were strictly limited. Tariffs were increased on a large number of items other than food, fertilizer and medicines and the import of private motor cars was totally banned. As the situation worsened textiles, motor car and bicycle tyres and even common household items like batteries for torches and blades for shaving were hard to come by. I found that a welcome gift for a friend, when you had a chance of going abroad, was to bring him back a packet of Wilkinson blades.
Sirimavo had also to face the rising costs of the social-welfare measures which could not be reduced, except at great political risk, and which ensured a reasonable level of nutrition, health and education to the mass of the people. This cushioning of the cost of living by the rice subsidy, free health services and free education was becoming harder to maintain with each passing year. Something had to give and Felix preparing for the 1963 July budget, proposed to the Cabinet a reduction in the rice ration per family. He had of course got Sirimavo’s nod for the proposal but it was opposed by the Government Parliamentary Group and led to Felix’s resignation a few days before budget day.
T B Ilangaratne, a Bandaranaike old-timer well to the left of the party, was hurriedly sworn in as finance minister and there was no cut in the ration when the speech was read out. Once again, as in Dudley’s time, rice and its price had become a potent political instrument. Felix was given the ministry of agriculture but not without a delay of about two months, when he would often sit at my desk in the Temple Trees office wondering when and which portfolio Sirimavo would give him this time.
Ethnic Politics
The Federal Party, which had voted to defeat Dudley’s minority UNP government at the vote on the ‘Throne speech in March 1960 gave its support to Sirimavo Bandaranaike and the SLFP in the July elections. In return the Federal Party expected some movement on the proposals made in the BC Pact which had been further elaborated in its Statement of Minimum Demands which had been put both to the UNP and the SLFP.
These referred to the four basic objectives of regional autonomy for the Northern and Eastern Provinces, suspension of state-aided colonization, Tamil language rights especially regarding entry of Tamil speaking persons to government service and amendments to the Citizenship Act of 1948 which had deprived thousands of up-country Tamils of their right to vote.
However, Sirimavo’s immediate priority concerns were elsewhere and had more to do with reviving the economy which was in decline. But her economic policies of increasing state control over the commanding heights of the economy while providing relief to the majority was of little help to the Tamils as the industrial enterprises were located mainly in the South and the preference for Sinhala language proficiency in the public sector did not enable the Tamils to reap any benefit from this policy.
The other strand of her policy of exercising more state control over education through the virtual take-over of the assisted schools also indirectly created resentment among the Tamil middle classes and the Tamil Christians. Education in the Jaffna peninsula – the heartland of the Tamils – was largely in the hands of missionary schools. Sirimavo although educated throughout her school career in mission schools – Ferguson College in Ratnapura in the primary classes and then St Bridget’s Convent, Colombo, a leading Roman Catholic institution, was to pursue a determined policy of bringing the assisted schools under state control and eliminating the difference which existed between the privileged and the well-endowed mission schools and the state-run schools.
Some of the leading schools which had opted to remain outside of the state system and be fee levying private institutions, continued but with the changes introduced by Sirimavo a large number of important schools, including her own St Bridget’s lost the grant-in-aid from the state which had enabled them to run without charging fees. These in future were to be under the direct control of the state as regards recruitment of staff and the content of the education they imparted.
Her education policy, which was seen as part of the socialist orientation of the government was much resented by powerful elites, especially in the city of Colombo and among the higher bureaucracy, which had largely been recruited from the leading public schools. It was to trigger one of the principal challenges Sirimavo had to face, the attempted coup d’etat in January 1962.
The state take-over of assisted schools meant that state patronage and financial assistance, extended from colonial times to schools run by religious denominations, would cease. This followed earlier moves to curtail the visas of the nursing nuns of the Catholic orders who had for many years been the mainstay of the country’s health institutions, particularly in the cities.
The prime mintilster’s permanent secretary in the ministry of defence and external affairs NQ (Neil Quintus) Dias was well-known for his strong stand against ‘Catholic Action’ as it was then called. His actions in regard to the defence establishment and police were also being watched by the upper echelons of the three forces which were then largely manned by non-Buddhist officers who had had their secondary education mainly, in the denominational schools.
As these actions of the government continued, and there rose an influential lobby against the schools’ take-over, an important religious dignitary, Ignatius Cardinal Gracias, came over from Bombay, in a hurried visit to talk to the prime minister. Although he was courteously received and given high hospitality, Sirimavo did not retract from the stand she had taken. The Cardinal returned to Bombay mission unaccomplished.
The seeming lack of interest by the administration to the problems of the Tamils, as articulated by the FP and put forward in the Minimum Demands, led to the FP calling for a non-violent hartal at its party convention in Jaffna in January 1962. On February 20, 1962, Chelvanayakam led the satyagraha by lying down on the floor in front of the entrance to the Jaffna kachcheri and blocking entry to it. This soon became a mass movement of defiance to government authority and when on April 14 a postal service was inaugurated by the Federal Party, the government moved to declare a state of emergency.
The armed forces were sent in, the satyagrahis were dispersed and the Federal Party members were arrested. The satyagraha had collapsed but its echoes and the images of a Sinhalese army in occupation of the ‘Tamil homeland’ began to reverberate and form the genesis of the militant movement which was to emerge later. Brigadier Richard Udugama, later to be Army Commander, was an important figure in the restoration of law and order in the North.
The January 1962 Abortive Coup d’etat
This was the troublesome background in which the coup d’etat by military and police high-ups was planned to take place on the night of January 27, 1962, a Saturday. I believe this date was chosen since the prime minister was scheduled to be at Kataragama for a pirith ceremony that evening.
According to the program prepared by her aide D P Amerasinghe, Sirimavo was to leave Colombo on Friday, attend the puja on Saturday night and return to Colombo on Sunday. This decision was made 10 days before the date of the planned coup. However, on seeing the program for Kataragama, I recalled that about a month earlier the prime minister had received a letter from the Chief Incumbent of the Getambe Temple (Peradeniya) inviting her to a ceremony there on the same night. Sirimavo had asked me to write to the priest saying that she was unable to accept the invitation as some urgent work compelled her to remain in Colombo that evening.
As soon as I realized that the dates were clashing I quickly pointed out to the prime minister that it would not be proper for her to go to Kataragama on the night of January 27 particularly since she had informed the Getambe Temple priest that she was forced to remain in Colombo for some urgent duty. I told her that when the priest read in the newspapers that she was at Kataragama on the 27th night it would create a bad impression in his mind about her credibility. Mrs Bandaranaik appreciated my point and asked Amerasinghe to cancel the Kataragama trip. The coup leaders had planned their strategy assuming that Sirimavo would be at Kataragama that night. If Sirimavo had, in fact gone to Kataragama the coup may well have succeeded.
Planning for the take-over of the government had gone on for quite some time by a very few at the top. Security precautions based on the principle of those who ‘need to know’ had been strictly observed. The detailed plans were revealed to most of those involved only less than 48 hours from ‘H’ hour.
Colonel Maurice de Mel and Colonel F C de Saram were in charge of army arrangements for the coup, while Sydney de Zoysa and C C Dissanayake were in charge of police arrangements. Royce de Mel former Captain of the Navy, was also associated in the detailed planning of the coup, and it seems that the co-ordination and army and police operations was undertaken by Sydney de Zoysa, a retired DIG of police.
F C (Derrick) de Saram, was a key figure and wanted to ‘take the rap’ as he put it for the attempted coup. On hearing that something was seriously amiss that Sunday morning I reported to Sirimavo and Felix who were already at work at Temple Trees. F C de Saram, smartly turned out in his Colonel’s uniform – he was in the volunteer corps – and as usual, cheerful and confident, was at the front porch around 9.00 am. On my inquiring what was up since I was quite unaware of the night’s happenings, grinning broadly he replied breezily that there was some small matter which had come up on which he was wanted and went upstairs to where Felix had set up an investigating unit. I did not see him again until he was released from prison four years later.
Derrick was connected to the Bandaranaike family through marriage to an Obeysekere. He was a highly talented and popular figure with many sides to his character. I knew him well and admired him for his sportsmanship and his outstanding leadership for the Sinhalese Sports Club and his captaincy of All Ceylon at cricket. I did not realize that he had political sensitivities of any kind, until one evening after ‘nets’ at the SSC, he engaged me in a long conversation about his Oxford days and the part he had played in the agitation for Indian independence in the Indian Majlis — a vibrant agitational group at the time, in England. The conversation turned soon to the Sirimavo government’s socialist programs and the disastrous effect it was having on the country. I felt he was trying to draw me out and therefore, was cautious in my response.
As more and more military officers, many of them my acquaintances of the sports field, came in, the magnitude and widespread nature of the attempted coup came into focus. All of the Ministers of the Government, the Permanent Secretary for Defence and External Affairs, the Inspector-General of Police, the Deputy Inspector-General in charge of the Criminal Investigation Department, and some leftist leaders were among the persons to be arrested at some time after midnight on the 27th. The acting Captain of the Navy, Rajan Kadirgamar was also marked for arrest, while the other service commanders were to be restrained, and prevented from leaving their houses that night after a certain hour.
The persons arrested in Colombo were to be taken to army headquarters and imprisoned in the Ammunition Magazine, which is a reinforced concrete structure, partially underground. Those arrested outside Colombo were to be taken to the police headquarters of the area pending further instructions.
Soon after midnight, police cars equipped with radio and loud hailers were to be sent out to announce an immediate curfew in the city of Colombo.
As more and more details were revealed with the younger officers making long confessions” hoping that this would earn them a pardon, Felix tightened security and threw a cordon around Temple Trees. That evening I saw Rajan Kadirgamar dressed in blue battledress, toting a sub-machine gun and prowling up and down the front corridor. As he put it he was out there because no one knew, as of then, who was in and who was not and whether the coup was still on.
The atmosphere was very, very tense. Felix was in his element getting all the facts of the case and breaking down the evidence of those who tried to downplay what the plotters were doing on the Saturday night. They, the plotters were trying to make out that all they intended to do was a full dress rehearsal, to deal with an imminent breakdown of law and order that, they, the military top brass wished to avert in the national interest.
A feature of the investigation was the work of the DIG, CID, S A Dissanayake, the brother of C C Dissanayake, one of the chief suspects. The brothers had joined the force together as assistant superintendents, had been excellent policemen throughout and were competitive rivals. Blood was certainly not going to stand in the way of duty and Jingle (S A) was assiduous in unearthing fresh evidence against Jungle (C C) his own brother. This duty consciousness, in which duty transcended blood relationship, was perhaps part of a colonial inheritance, which is unheard of today.
Based on the facts revealed during the investigations, which were being conveyed to her each day, the prime minister was quick to act. Speedy changes were made in certain key positions in the armed forces and police. The attorney-general was consulted regarding the possibility of new laws to prosecute the plotters since existing legislation and procedures might be insufficient to deal with the case, and since there had been several references in the statements to the possible involvement of the Governor-General Oliver Goonetilleke, action to neutralize and remove him from office had to be effected as soon as possible.
Finally, the Cabinet decided to formulate new legislation to proceed with the case against 29 suspects. But this itself contained the seeds of failure. After conviction by the courts in Ceylon, the Privy Council to which the case was appealed proceeded to rule in favour of the accused now in remand on the grounds that the legislation was ultra vires to the Constitution. The defence had successfully pleaded the ground of the retroactive nature of the law and the Privy Council, the final court of appeal at the time had held with the appellants. The Privy Council judgment was delivered after the UNP had come back in 1965 and the government was not inclined to go any further. Whereupon those who had now spent around four years in detention and remand prison returned home and continued albeit at a lower profile to pursue their normal avocations both on the sports fields and in civil society.
As for the other line of action against the governor-general, this required two sets of measures. Firstly, informing the Queen since the governor-general was her appointee although the prime minister made the recommendation in the first instance. Secondly, to find a suitable alternative in case the Queen was prepared to drop Sir Oliver. There was fortunately for Sirimavo an appropriate candidate in William Gopallawa, then Ambassador in Washington. In Bandaranaike’s time Gopallawa who had been municipal commissioner of Kandy had been brought to Colombo as commissioner. Later he had been appointed Ambassador to China and thereafter in Sirimavo’s time Ambassador to Washington.
There had been some comment in the gossip columns of the weeklies that these appointments smacked of a little family bandyism since Gopallawa was the father-in-law of Mackie, Sirimavo’s brother. However, Bandaranaike had shrugged this off as Gopallawa had proved himself an efficient and clean municipal commissioner and a cautious and loyal ambassador and although not holding a particularly distinguished public service record, was fully eligible for the highest position in the political hierarchy.
On February 18, 1962 Felix Dias Bandaranaike made a statement in the House of Representatives and said that during the investigations of the attempted coup, the name of Sir Oliver Goonetilleke too had been mentioned. Sir Oliver indicated that he had no objection to being questioned like any other citizen. However, nobody had the power to question the duly appointed representative of the Queen without obtaining her permission.
I was sent on a secret mission to London – to see the Queen
One morning when I went to office, Sirimavo asked me to fly to London immediately with a ‘dangerous’ letter. I packed a suitcase and left for London in a hurry.Suffice it to say that when I returned to Ceylon after a week’s stay in London my mission had proved a success.
On the afternoon of February 26, 1962, we informed all newspaper offices and Radio Ceylon to stand by for a very important announcement to be released at midnight. Accordingly, Radio Ceylon too extended night transmissions beyond the normal closing times.
The announcement made under the name of Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike was broadcast at 12 midnight. It said that Her Majesty, the Queen of England, had kindly consented to a proposal made by the Queen’s Government in Ceylon to appoint Mr William Gopallawa as the governor-general of Ceylon to succeed Sir Oliver Goonetilleke. The appointment was to be effective from March 20, 1962, the announcement added. At the same time a similar announcement was made by Buckingham Palace, in London.
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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