Features
The day the boss mistook me for a peon and took me to an important meeting
Realizing his mistake, Kulasinghe invited me to participate at the meeting despite my role as briefcase carrier
On that particular Monday, my fiance had an early start at Shaw Wallace and Hedges, a private sector firm with its offices about two kilometres south from the State Engineering Corporation SEC, where I worked. Having accompanied her to her workplace, I arrived very early, 6:30 AM, to an open and empty office. There were no hordes of security guards in 1970s and there was an open-door policy at SEC, one could say. A single watcher (as Security Staff were then called) manned the entrance. He greeted me and off I climbed stairs and to my desk. How times have changed in the period to 2020 regards security!
I was dressed in spotless white longs, white short-sleeved shirt, white socks and black shoes. Within 10 minutes of my arrival, SEC Chairman Kulasinghe came up the stairs hurriedly to the second floor. He was in white shorts, white shirt, knee length white stockings and black shoes. So, there were only two people in the building, both on the same floor, and both in white with one difference – he was in shorts.
I was standing near the entrance door to the floor. I had come down to check on a friend, but the floor was empty. Chairman’s office was on the same floor at the rear end and in more salubrious surroundings. I could sense an urgency as he looked excited. He proceeded to inquire in a commandeering fashion with the conversation being entirely in Sinhala:
“Where is Gunapala?” (“Kohede Gunapala?”)
“Looks like he is not in, Sir!” was my reply. (“Sir, Gunapala thama wedeta avilla ne wagai”)
“Where is Sirisena, then? ” (“Ko, ehenan Sirisena?”)
“He is also not to be seen anywhere, Sir” (“Eyath kohewath penne ne Sir”)
“You check in the canteen” he ordered: he was clearly annoyed. (“Thamuse Gihilla canteemma balanawa”)
I had a ready reply as I had been to the canteen downstairs about five minutes earlier for a cup of tea. The doors were shut with a notice on it in all three languages announcing its opening time. “The canteen does not open till seven, Sir” (“hatha wenekan canteema arinne ne Sir”)
Kulasinghe checked his watch.
“Okay! Then you come with me” (“Ehenan, thamuse math ekke enewa”), thrusting his briefcase towards my midriff, for me to hold it to prevent its fall . He was somewhat petulant and rude in my opinion, somewhat small.
This was not the time to question an order nor wonder about the behavioural etiquette of superiors towards their subordinates, especially towards those in the lowest rungs. I followed the Leader, three steps behind. Fortunately, the
briefcase was not too heavy for my then skinny frame. He walked fast and I followed, with my stride kept in check
so as not to overrun the boss. He walked, nay, ran down the stairs and we were at the open ground floor of the Corporation, where the Chairman’s official car was always parked, and very prominently at that. Next to the reserved lot was the canteen, with closed gates.
There was no one in the office to signal the driver that the Chairman was on his way to the car. The driver on sighting his master, put away the Dinamina newspaper and hurriedly got out of the car to open the passenger side rear door. The Chairman got in. I was now standing near the rear door holding the briefcase.
In management studies it is said that should one wish to approach a CEO, the two most difficult obstacles to get past are the CEO’s secretary and the driver, who will thwart any minion. The air of superiority of this driver was apparent for me to witness and endure. With the driver staring at me, a surprised Kulasinghe finding me at the rear door, boomed in Sinhala: “You get into the front seat.” (“Issaraha seat ekete naginewa”)
A wry smile appeared on the driver’s face as if to indicate “You got your just desserts for not knowing your place in life”. Minions always travelled away from their superior. Subservient behaviour being the norm.
There was definitely no driver respect for an underling like me. Generally, the personal driver of the top brass of any large organization is feared because he can carry tales to the boss. Kulasinghe depended on his driver to take him everywhere. Such drivers are acutely aware that they are in an influential position.
The driver closed the rear door on the passenger side, walked in front of the vehicle ignoring me, and settled into his seat. I could see that he was unnerved at carrying extra cargo next to him. I opened the front passenger-side door, got in, closed the door and clasped the briefcase now on my lap.
“To Minister Maithripala’s office” (“Maithripala amathi thumage karyalayata”) was the directive.
“Yes, Sir” (“Ow Sir”)
The driver, a stocky darkish man, continued to ignore me, apparently concentrating on the empty road with steely eyes. I did not need any more proof from this ‘powerful’ person that I was not welcome. I was an intruder. There were only two people usually in the limousine. Sometimes there were three, when Mrs Kulasinghe shared the back seat. But now, horror of horrors, there was a third man.
I was an interested listener to the conversation between the site managers and the supremo in the back seat on the VHF. He spoke in English with about five site managers during the trip of about four miles. I was as attentive listener. A sample of the conversation went like this; “Can I speak to Mr Kandiah ? Over!”
‘Over’ is the usual signal on a one-way radio conversation, requesting the other party to speak. VHF capabilities at the time were limited to a one-way conversation only. I could hear the excited voice of the clerk at the other end through the crackling sounds;
“Chairman is on the VHF, Call Mr Kandiah” he gushed. A call from the Chairman early in the morning was a ritual, and the head of each site made it a point to report to work early. “Anil here, good morning, how are you Sir? Over!”
It was an education for me. The Chairman reviewing the progress of work, giving instructions and being precise on any technical solutions, where requested. The aura surrounding him and the reverential respect by the highly qualified project managers and engineers, was not misplaced.
The Chairman and I alighted 15 minutes later at the Ministry in Colombo Fort. Kulasinghe did not wait for the driver to come around and open the door for him. There was simplicity in the man.
The building was three storeys high. At the entrance and
at ground level, marked Level-1, was a notice with an arrow
pointing upwards, which listed ‘Minister of Highways- Level 3’.
I knew my place in life for the next hour. It was to be outside the door of the minister’s office after handing over the briefcase and waiting for the meeting to end, and again carrying the briefcase back to the car.
But a dramatic intervention was about to happen to change my destiny and my standing. We went up the stairs, with Kulasinghe still about three steps ahead and came to the first landing at Level-2.
Nath Amarakoon, as if coming in from the side shadows, also alighted at the same time on the landing through a corridor leading from his office. The Ministry of Housing was on the same floor. He was carrying a file. I was to find out later, that Nath had been invited by the Minister
as he was an engineer with political links.
“Morning, are you going to meet the Minister, Mr Kulasinghe” was Nath’s pleasant greeting in English’ “Yes” “So am I. Both of us will be at the bridge meeting then?”
I am sure the news would not have elated Kulasinghe. But his reaction could not be gauged with his back to me.
It was at this time, that I came on to the Level-2 landing.
“Hello, Nihal” said Nath and Kulasinghe turned back and to
me, now aware of my presence and having heard Nath greeting
me in English.
“So, what do you do at the Corporation?” Kulasinghe inquired with wide eyes. “I am a graduate engineer, Mr Kulasinghe.”
A wry smile appeared on Kulasinghe’s lips. I enjoyed the smile and acknowledged the greeting with a smile. Each of us knew what was going through in the other’s mind. “OK, you can come to the meeting” was his conciliatory gesture
to make amends for the faux pas of thinking I was a peon. So the trio of engineers, ascended to the Minister’s room. We were led to a polished teak table in the middle of the room, with chairs around it. There was a chair and another very smaller table about two metres away which I assumed to be my rightful position.
Nath and Kulasinghe sat around the high table in two adjoining chairs. I sat down in my chair and laid the briefcase on the small table. The peon was also looking at me, and then he disappeared, only to appear behind two other gentlemen of about Kulasinghe’s age.
They too sat around the high table and exchanged greetings.
“Hello Kule” followed by;
“Hello Nath” was the greeting by a stocky gentleman.
“Hello Chandra” was Kulasinghe’s reply.
“Let me introduce Sivagnanam, my Assistant Secretary to both of you” Chandrasena said. Sivagnanam smiled and shook hands all round. Then he came around to me.
“What is your name, young man? I am Sivagnam?”
Nath and Sivagnanam wore neckties.
“Nihal Kodituwakku, Mr Sivagnanam.”
“Why are you sitting away, join us at the table”
“It is okay, and I am comfortable here”
“You, come and sit next to me”, Kulasinghe called and I obeyed, and sat down at the adjoining vacant seat. Next to me on the right there were three more vacant seats.
That is how at the age of 24, I sat around a table with two permanent secretaries, an assistant secretary and the chairman of SEC awaiting the arrival of the Minister. The peon brought a large pot of tea. The cups and saucers were already laid around the table.
I thought of my fiancé Lucky and was grateful that she requested me to accompany her to work at an early hour on that Monday. Unknown to her at the time, I chanced to be in high company, after all.
About five minutes later the peon again disappeared and re-appeared behind the Minister of Highways, Maithripala Senanayake. Both of them were the only people in national
dress in the room. The five trousered men got up. gave a common greeting “Morning to all.” He was the tallest man in the room and, I must say, that I was the next in height.
A lady who later I happened to find out to be a stenographer-clerk, sat down on the chair vacated by me. Another peon carrying a typewriter walked in and deposited it on the table in front of the lady. She then pulled out her note book. Unknown to me, I was about to learn a lesson on how to handle people in power, politicians or CEOs which has stood me in good stead and helped in my career.
The Minister got to the crux of the matter straightaway; and the reason for the gathering. “At the elections I gave a promise to my constituents that the bridge at Medawachiya Electorate will be built.” I cannot remember the exact location which the Minister mentioned, but the next action was noteworthy.
“Get me my briefcase, please” said Kulasinghe. I handed the briefcase and he pulled out a drawing from the case. Obviously, he had been sounded out earlier and had come prepared. Kulasinghe now standing, having laid out the drawing on the high table said “Minister, there are very big technical problems”, and at that moment, Chandrasena came across and looked at the drawing.
Chandrasena added “I agree with Kule, this bridge will cost a lot. I recommend that it not be built” If the Minister was angry, he did not show it, but looked across to Sivagnanam. The lady at the table was taking down notes, presumably in short-hand.
Sivagnanam came across, near the two engineers and directly addressed the Minister and said firmly; “Sir, what Mr Kulasinghe and Mr Chandrasena are saying is that there are technical problems. These are surmountable problems and solutions can be found”.
The other permanent secretary Nath, as if waiting for the signal to interject, now joined the fray, remaining seated. He said, “Sir, if you gave a promise to the electorate, it needs to be fulfilled. The current wooden bridge needs to be replaced with a concrete bridge. There are ways to minimize the costs.”
I was glued to my seat, attentive listener, with nothing to contribute. The Minister nodded his head in the affirmative and smiled at the two recent speakers. It was a wide smile. It was also the cue for Kulasinghe and Chandrasena to stare at Nath and at the career public servant and Assistant Secretary, Sivagnanam. The latter two had pulled the rug under the feet of two leading engineers in the country.
Kulasinghe and Chandrasena looked at Nath, and the hatred in their eyes was intense. If only looks could kill! “Thanks to all, the bridge can be built. I will inform my electorate” and the Minister got up.
The peon ran to the door, opened it and let the master go
through. He held the door open for Nath, followed by Sivagnanam. The stenographer turned her attention to typing. The two engineers were left in the room, forlorn. I put the drawing in the briefcase.
Kulasinghe meandered down the stairs, still ruminating at the loss of face, followed by me with the briefcase. It was obvious to me that the two high ranking and reputable engineers, one of them a permanent secretary, were raw in
political nuance and had a steep learning curve for their future dealings with ministers.
It was a case study of two prominent experienced engineers losing the battle. A young engineer with political nous, along with a career public servant who knew the game, won the day.
It was a lesson for me that Ministers are not worried about technicalities of a problem. What is music to their ears is to hear that a job can be done.
I understand that the bridge was completed by the State
Development and Construction Corporation in 1976 at a considerable cost. The cost benefit analysis did not justify such a bridge. Do you think that the politician was worried about such analysis?
A series of a combination of time of my arrival to be the first at SEC that morning, plus my attire, and being the only one in the office led to the above episode, the recall of which still makes me smile. An incident born out of sheer coincidence and a case of mistaken identity. It was hilarious being identified as a peon, and concurrently educational in how to manage and massage a politician in delivering their needs.
Looking at the brighter side, my attire of the day plus being the first to arrive at SEC clinched a valuable experience. In Perth, I was employed at the West Australian Treasury from 2008, and we were trained on how to answer our political master, the Minister for Finance, who also doubled up as the Treasurer cum Deputy Premier.
The template in answering Ministerial Requests required the following; “If the decision after long hours of deliberation by the public servants was to agree with Minister’s requests, one were to mention the “Request can be complied with”. No supporting documentation was needed. If the answer is in the negative a maximum of a single page summary to be provided”
The reasoning was that the Minister’s time is valuable, and should not be eaten up with time consuming details. A salutary lesson for the likes of Messrs Kulasinghe and Chandrasena. Pity that such templates were not available nor advance briefings were given, as far as I was aware in 1970s for high level officers.
It was the unlikely event of Nath appearing that gave away my identity. For Kulasinghe, I was the peon, even though the circumstances leading to the conclusion was a series of coincidences. However, I had no qualms about carrying the briefcase for the man. Respect towards Kulasinghe came naturally to all who worked with him.
In essence Kulasinghe, an engineer of repute, was responsible for training and producing many a capable engineer, technical officer and quantity surveyor. These professionals are now spread around the world. Raising professionalism was Kulasinghe’s gift to the country of his birth and the unintended benefit to the world. The departure of professionals were primarily due to a combination of factors; performance of the politicians, ethnic unrest and lack of economic progress being the top three.
Postscript
SEC was a semi-government organization and the premier
construction body in Ceylon/Sri Lanka in the 1970s. All rolled into one, SEC was the planner, designer, project manager and contractor of major building projects for the government. All these being done internally created efficiencies and provided a sound training ground for youngsters like me.
At the same time being a semi-government agency there were some bureaucratic and financial inefficiencies which resulted in cost blow ups on many projects that SEC undertook. Kulasinghe left in 1972, with Nath taking over the dual responsibility of Chairmanship of SEC in addition to his permanent secretarial duties.
All mentioned in this story, the first part of which appeared last week, have passed on except me.
• Dayantha Wijeyesekera passed away in 2023. He lived in Sri Lanka and became the Chancellor of the Open University. Prior to his posting, he was the Professor of Civil Engineering at University of Moratuwa and subsequently its Vice Chancellor. An achiever who contributed immensely to progress the educational sector.
• Brahman Sivaprakasapillai was responsible for designing and installing the sewerage pumping systems for the newly built Mahiyangana Hospital. After the communal clashes of 1983 he migrated to USA contributing to our brain drain. He retired after a career at the UN in New York where he lived till his passing away in 2021. During winter and for six months from November he moved to his other home in sunny Florida.
• Kamal Nathan left around 1973 and is retired after being an Associate Professor at a University in Singapore.
• David Gunasekera worked for the Department of Housing in Canberra having left the country in mid 70s.
• Importantly, Gunapala from Gampaha got a transfer to another Corporation nearer his home and subsequently a promotion to be chief peon.
• Sirisena, I understand hedged his bets correctly as his master, the Assistant Personnel Manager in 1970, was subsequently appointed a High Commissioner to many countries under the UNP regimes of Prime Minister and President Ranasinghe Premadasa, who was assassinated in 1992. Sirisena’s master was related to the then President’s wife and as usual “Theory of Relativity” was more important than efficiency. Sirisena served his master and saw the world in the dual capacities of a driver and a house helper at the respective High Commissions.
• What happened to the driver? I have not been able to find out.
• Lucky and I married in 1973 and are still going strong. We have one child, a son.
(Excerpted from the memoirs of Nihal Kodituwakku)
Features
Why Sri Lanka Still Has No Doppler Radar – and Who Should Be Held Accountable
Eighteen Years of Delay:
Cyclone Ditwah has come and gone, leaving a trail of extensive damage to the country’s infrastructure, including buildings, roads, bridges, and 70% of the railway network. Thousands of hectares of farming land have been destroyed. Last but not least, nearly 1,000 people have lost their lives, and more than two million people have been displaced. The visuals uploaded to social media platforms graphically convey the widespread destruction Cyclone Ditwah has caused in our country.
The purpose of my article is to highlight, for the benefit of readers and the general public, how a project to establish a Doppler Weather Radar system, conceived in 2007, remains incomplete after 18 years. Despite multiple governments, shifting national priorities, and repeated natural disasters, the project remains incomplete.
Over the years, the National Audit Office, the Committee on Public Accounts (COPA), and several print and electronic media outlets have highlighted this failure. The last was an excellent five-minute broadcast by Maharaja Television Network on their News First broadcast in October 2024 under a series “What Happened to Sri Lanka”
The Agreement Between the Government of Sri Lanka and the World Meteorological Organisation in 2007.
The first formal attempt to establish a Doppler Radar system dates back to a Trust Fund agreement signed on 24 May 2007 between the Government of Sri Lanka (GoSL) and the World Meteorological Organisation (WMO). This agreement intended to modernize Sri Lanka’s meteorological infrastructure and bring the country on par with global early-warning standards.
The World Meteorological Organisation (WMO) is a specialized agency of the United Nations established on March 23, 1950. There are 193 member countries of the WMO, including Sri Lanka. Its primary role is to promote the establishment of a worldwide meteorological observation system and to serve as the authoritative voice on the state and behaviour of the Earth’s atmosphere, its interaction with the oceans, and the resulting climate and water resources.
According to the 2018 Performance Audit Report compiled by the National Audit Office, the GoSL entered into a trust fund agreement with the WMO to install a Doppler Radar System. The report states that USD 2,884,274 was deposited into the WMO bank account in Geneva, from which the Department of Metrology received USD 95,108 and an additional USD 113,046 in deposit interest. There is no mention as to who actually provided the funds. Based on available information, WMO does not fund projects of this magnitude.
The WMO was responsible for procuring the radar equipment, which it awarded on 18th June 2009 to an American company for USD 1,681,017. According to the audit report, a copy of the purchase contract was not available.
Monitoring the agreement’s implementation was assigned to the Ministry of Disaster Management, a signatory to the trust fund agreement. The audit report details the members of the steering committee appointed by designation to oversee the project. It consisted of personnel from the Ministry of Disaster Management, the Departments of Metrology, National Budget, External Resources and the Disaster Management Centre.
The Audit Report highlights failures in the core responsibilities that can be summarized as follows:
· Procurement irregularities—including flawed tender processes and inadequate technical evaluations.
· Poor site selection
—proposed radar sites did not meet elevation or clearance requirements.
· Civil works delays
—towers were incomplete or structurally unsuitable.
· Equipment left unused
—in some cases for years, exposing sensitive components to deterioration.
· Lack of inter-agency coordination
—between the Meteorology Department, Disaster Management Centre, and line ministries.
Some of the mistakes highlighted are incomprehensible. There is a mention that no soil test was carried out before the commencement of the construction of the tower. This led to construction halting after poor soil conditions were identified, requiring a shift of 10 to 15 meters from the original site. This resulted in further delays and cost overruns.
The equipment supplier had identified that construction work undertaken by a local contractor was not of acceptable quality for housing sensitive electronic equipment. No action had been taken to rectify these deficiencies. The audit report states, “It was observed that the delay in constructing the tower and the lack of proper quality were one of the main reasons for the failure of the project”.
In October 2012, when the supplier commenced installation, the work was soon abandoned after the vehicle carrying the heavy crane required to lift the radar equipment crashed down the mountain. The next attempt was made in October 2013, one year later. Although the equipment was installed, the system could not be operationalised because electronic connectivity was not provided (as stated in the audit report).
In 2015, following a UNOPS (United Nations Office for Project Services) inspection, it was determined that the equipment needed to be returned to the supplier because some sensitive electronic devices had been damaged due to long-term disuse, and a further 1.5 years had elapsed by 2017, when the equipment was finally returned to the supplier. In March 2018, the estimated repair cost was USD 1,095,935, which was deemed excessive, and the project was abandoned.
COPA proceedings
The Committee on Public Accounts (COPA) discussed the radar project on August 10, 2023, and several press reports state that the GOSL incurred a loss of Rs. 78 million due to the project’s failure. This, I believe, is the cost of constructing the Tower. It is mentioned that Rs. 402 million had been spent on the radar system, of which Rs. 323 million was drawn from the trust fund established with WMO. It was also highlighted that approximately Rs. 8 million worth of equipment had been stolen and that the Police and the Bribery and Corruption Commission were investigating the matter.
JICA support and project stagnation
Despite the project’s failure with WMO, the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) entered into an agreement with GOSL on June 30, 2017 to install two Doppler Radar Systems in Puttalam and Pottuvil. JICA has pledged 2.5 billion Japanese yen (LKR 3.4 billion at the time) as a grant. It was envisaged that the project would be completed in 2021.
Once again, the perennial delays that afflict the GOSL and bureaucracy have resulted in the groundbreaking ceremony being held only in December 2024. The delay is attributed to the COVID-19 pandemic and Sri Lanka’s economic crisis.
The seven-year delay between the signing of the agreement and project commencement has led to significant cost increases, forcing JICA to limit the project to installing only one Doppler Radar system in Puttalam.
Impact of the missing radar during Ditwah
As I am not a meteorologist and do not wish to make a judgment on this, I have decided to include the statement issued by JICA after the groundbreaking ceremony on December 24, 2024.
“In partnership with the Department of Meteorology (DoM), JICA is spearheading the establishment of the Doppler Weather Radar Network in the Puttalam district, which can realize accurate weather observation and weather prediction based on the collected data by the radar. This initiative is a significant step in strengthening Sri Lanka’s improving its climate resilience including not only reducing risks of floods, landslides, and drought but also agriculture and fishery“.
Based on online research, a Doppler Weather Radar system is designed to observe weather systems in real time. While the technical details are complex, the system essentially provides localized, uptotheminute information on rainfall patterns, storm movements, and approaching severe weather. Countries worldwide rely on such systems to issue timely alerts for monsoons, tropical depressions, and cyclones. It is reported that India has invested in 30 Doppler radar systems, which have helped minimize the loss of life.
Without radar, Sri Lanka must rely primarily on satellite imagery and foreign meteorological centres, which cannot capture the finescale, rapidly changing weather patterns that often cause localized disasters here.
The general consensus is that, while no single system can prevent natural disasters, an operational Doppler Radar almost certainly would have strengthened Sri Lanka’s preparedness and reduced the extent of damage and loss.
Conclusion
Sri Lanka’s inability to commission a Doppler Radar system, despite nearly two decades of attempts, represents one of the most significant governance failures in the country’s disastermanagement history.
Audit findings, parliamentary oversight proceedings, and donor records all confirm the same troubling truth: Sri Lanka has spent public money, signed international agreements, received foreign assistance, and still has no operational radar. This raises a critical question: should those responsible for this prolonged failure be held legally accountable?
Now may not be the time to determine the extent to which the current government and bureaucrats failed the people. I believe an independent commission comprising foreign experts in disaster management from India and Japan should be appointed, maybe in six months, to identify failures in managing Cyclone Ditwah.
However, those who governed the country from 2007 to 2024 should be held accountable for their failures, and legal action should be pursued against the politicians and bureaucrats responsible for disaster management for their failure to implement the 2007 project with the WMO successfully.
Sri Lanka cannot afford another 18 years of delay. The time for action, transparency, and responsibility has arrived.
(The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of any organization or institution with which the author is affiliated).
By Sanjeewa Jayaweera
Features
Ramifications of Trump Corollary
President Trump is expected to close the deal on the Ukraine crisis, as he may wish to concentrate his full strength on two issues: ongoing operations in Venezuela and the bolstering of Japan’s military capabilities as tensions between China and Japan over Taiwan rise. Trump can easily concede Ukraine to Putin and refocus on the Asia–Pacific and Latin America. This week, he once again spilled the beans in an interview with Politico, one of the most significant conversations ever conducted with him. When asked which country currently holds the stronger negotiating position, Trump bluntly asserted that there could be no question: it is Russia. “It’s a much bigger country. It’s a war that should’ve never happened,” he said, followed by his usual rhetoric.
Meanwhile, US allies that fail to adequately fund defence and shirk contributions to collective security will face repercussions, Secretary of War Pete Hegseth declared at the 2025 Reagan National Defense Forum in Simi Valley, California. Hegseth singled out nations such as South Korea, Israel, Poland, and Germany as “model allies” for increasing their commitments, contrasting them with those perceived as “free riders”. The message was unmistakably Trumpian: partnerships are conditional, favourable only to countries that “help themselves” before asking anything of Washington.
It is in this context that it becomes essential to examine the Trump administration’s National Security Strategy, issued last week, in order to consider how it differs from previous strategies and where it may intersect with current US military practice.
Trump’s 2025 National Security Strategy is not merely another iteration of the familiar doctrine of American primacy; it is a radical reorientation of how the United States understands itself, its sphere of influence, and its role in the world. The document begins uncompromisingly: “The purpose of foreign policy is the protection of core national interests; that is the sole focus of this strategy.” It is the bluntest opening in any American NSS since the document became a formal requirement in 1987. Whereas previous strategies—from Obama to Biden—wrapped security in the language of democracy promotion and multilateralism, Trump’s dispenses entirely with the pretence of universality. What matters are American interests, defined narrowly, almost corporately, as though the United States were a shareholder entity rather than a global hegemon.
It is here that the ghost of Senator William Fulbright quietly enters, warning in 1966 that “The arrogance of power… the belief that we are uniquely qualified to bring order to the world, is a dangerous illusion.” Fulbright’s admonition was directed at the hubris of Vietnam-era expansionism, yet it resonates with uncanny force in relation to Trump’s revived hemispheric ambitions. For despite Trump’s anti-globalist posture, his strategy asserts a unique American role in determining events across two oceans and within an entire hemisphere. The arrogance may simply be wearing a new mask.
Nowhere is this revisionist spirit more vivid than in the so-called “Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine”, perhaps the most controversial American hemispheric declaration since Theodore Roosevelt’s time. The 2025 NSS states without hesitation that “The United States will reassert and enforce the Monroe Doctrine to restore American preeminence in the Western Hemisphere.” Yet unlike Roosevelt, who justified intervention as a form of pre-emptive stabilisation, Trump wraps his corollary in the language of sovereignty and anti-globalism. The hemispheric message is not simply that outside powers must stay out; it is that the United States will decide what constitutes legitimate governance in the region and deny “non-Hemispheric competitors the ability to position forces or other threatening capabilities… in our Hemisphere”.
This wording alone has far-reaching implications for Venezuela, where US forces recently seized a sanctioned supertanker as part of an escalating confrontation with the Maduro government. Maduro, emboldened by support from Russia, Iran, and China’s so-called shadow fleet, frames Trump’s enforcement actions as piracy. But for Trump, this is precisely the point: a demonstration of restored hemispheric authority. In that sense, the 2025 NSS may be the first strategic document in decades to explicitly set the stage for sustained coercive operations in Latin America. The NSS promises “a readjustment of our global military presence to address urgent threats in our Hemisphere.” “Urgent threats” is vague, but in practical military planning, vagueness functions as a permission slip. It is not difficult to see how a state accused of “narco-terrorism” or “crimes against humanity” could be fitted into the category.
The return to hemispheric dominance is paired with a targeted shift in alliance politics. Trump makes it clear that the United States is finished subsidising alliances that do not directly strengthen American security. The NSS lays out the philosophy succinctly: “The days of the United States propping up the entire world order like Atlas are over.” This is a direct repudiation of the language found in Obama’s 2015 NSS, which emphasised that American leadership was indispensable to global stability. Trump rejects that premise outright. Leadership, in his framing, is merely leverage. Allies who fail to meet burden expectations will lose access, influence, and potentially even protection. Nowhere is this more evident than in the push for extraordinary defence spending among NATO allies: “President Trump has set a new global standard with the Hague Commitment… pledging NATO countries to spend 5 percent of GDP on defence.”
In turn, US disengagement from Europe becomes easier to justify. While Trump speaks of “negotiating an expeditious cessation of hostilities in Ukraine”, it requires little sophistication to decode this as a form of managed abandonment—an informal concession that Russia’s negotiating position is stronger, as Trump told Politico. Ukraine may well become a bargaining chip in the trade-off between strategic theatres: Europe shrinks, Asia and Latin America expand. The NSS’s emphasis on Japan, Taiwan, and China is markedly sharper than in 2017.
China looms over the 2025 NSS like an obsession, mentioned over twenty times, not merely as a competitor but as a driving force shaping American policy. Every discussion of technology, alliances, or regional security is filtered through Beijing’s shadow, as if US strategy exists solely to counter China. The strategy’s relentless focus risks turning global priorities into a theatre of paranoia, where the United States reacts constantly, defined less by its own interests than by fear of what China might do next.
It is equally striking that, just nine days after Cyclone Ditwah, the US Indo-Pacific Command deployed two C130 aircraft—capable of landing at only three locations in Sri Lanka, well away from the hardest-hit areas—and orchestrated a highly choreographed media performance, enlisting local outlets and social media influencers seemingly more concerned with flaunting American boots on the ground than delivering “urgent” humanitarian aid. History shows this is not unprecedented: US forces have repeatedly arrived under the banner of humanitarian assistance—Operation Restore Hope in Somalia (1992) later escalated into full security and combat operations; interventions in Haiti during the 1990s extended into long-term peacekeeping and training missions; and Operation United Assistance in Liberia (2014) built a lasting US operational presence beyond the Ebola response.
Trump’s NSS, meanwhile, states that deterring conflict in East Asia is a “priority”, and that the United States seeks to ensure that “US technology and US standards—particularly in AI, biotech, and quantum computing—drive the world forward.” Combined with heightened expectations of Japan, which is rapidly rearming, Trump’s strategic map shows a clear preference: if Europe cannot or will not defend itself, Asia might.
What makes the 2025 NSS uniquely combustible, however, is the combination of ideological framing and operational signalling. Trump explicitly links non-interventionism, long a theme of his political base, to the Founders’ moral worldview. He writes that “Rigid adherence to non-interventionism is not possible… yet this predisposition should set a high bar for what constitutes a justified intervention.”
The Trump NSS is both a blueprint and a warning. It signals a United States abandoning the liberal internationalist project and embracing a transactional, hemispherically focussed, sovereignty-first model. It rewrites the Monroe Doctrine for an age of great-power contest, but in doing so resurrects the very logics of intervention that past presidents have regretted. And in the background, as Trump weighs the cost of Ukraine against the allure of a decisive posture in Asia and the Western Hemisphere, the world is left to wonder whether this new corollary is merely rhetorical theatre or the prelude to a new era of American coercive power. The ambiguity is deliberate, but the direction of travel is unmistakable.
[Correction: In my column last week, I incorrectly stated that India–Russia trade in FY 2024 25 was USD 18 billion; the correct figure is USD 68.7 billion, with a trade deficit of about USD 59 billion. Similarly, India recorded a goods trade surplus of around USD 41.18 billion with the US, not a deficit of USD 42 billion, with exports of USD 86.51 billion and imports of USD 45.33 billion. Total remittances to India in FY 2024 25 were roughly USD 135.46 billion, including USD 25–30 billion from the US. Apologies for the error.]
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
MEEZAN HADJIAR
selfmade businessman who became one of the richest men in the Central Province
I am happy that a book about the life and contribution of Sathkorale Muhamdiramlagedara Segu Abdul Cader Hajiar Mohamed Mohideen better known as Meezan Hadjiar or Meezan Mudalali of Matale [1911—1964] written by Mohammed Fuaji -a former Principal of Zahira College Matale, has now been published by a group of his admirers and relatives. It is a timely addition to the history of Matale district and the Kandyan region which is yet to be described fully as forming a part of the modern history of our country. Coincidentally this book also marks the centenary of Meezan Hadjiars beginning of employment in Matale town which began in 1925.
Matale which was an outlier in the Kandyan Kingdom came into prominence with the growth of plantations for coffee and, after the collapse of the coffee plantations due to the ‘coffee blight’ , for other tree crops . Coffee was followed by the introduction of tea by the early British investors who faced bankruptcy and ruin if they could not quickly find a substitute beverage for coffee.They turned to tea.
The rapid opening of tea plantations in the hill country demanded a large and hardworking labour force which could not be found domestically. This led to the indenturing of Tamil labour from South India on a large scale. These helpless workers were virtually kidnapped from their native villages in India through the Kangani system and they were compelled to migrate to our hill country by the British administration .
The route of these indentured workers to the higher elevations of the hill country lay through Matale and the new plantation industry developed in that region thereby dragging it into a new commercial culture and a cash economy. New opportunities were opened up for internal migration particularly for the more adventurous members of the Muslim community who had played a significant role in the Kandyan kingdom particularly as traders,transporters,medical specialists and military advisors.
Diaries of British officials like John D’oyly also show that the Kandyan Muslims were interlocutors between the Kandyan King and British officials of the Low Country as they had to move about across boundaries as traders of scarce commodities like salt, medicines and consumer articles for the Kandyans and arecanuts, gems and spices for the British. Even today there are physical traces of the ‘’Battal’’or caravans of oxen which were used by the Muslims to transport the above mentioned commodities to and from the Kandyan villages to the Low country. Another important facet was that Kandyan Muslims were located in villages close to the entrances to the hill country attesting to their mobility unlike the Kandyan villagers.
Thus Akurana, Galagedera, Kadugannawa, Hataraliyadde and Mawanella which lay in the pathways to enter the inner territory of the Kings domain were populated by ‘Kandyan Muslims’ who had the ear of the King and his high officials. The’’ Ge’’ names and the honorifics given by the King were a testament to their integration with the Sinhala polity. Meezan Hadjiars’’ Ge ‘‘name of Sathkorale Mohandiramlage denotes the mobility of the family from Sathkorale, an outlier division in the Kandyan Kingdom, and Mohandiramlage attests to the higher status in the social hierarchy which probably indicated that his forebears were honoured servants of the king.
Meezan Hadjiar [SM Mohideen] was born and bred in Kurugoda which is a small village in Akurana in Kandy district. He belonged to the family of Abdul Cader who was a patriarch and a well known religious scholar. Cader’s children began their education in the village school but at the age of 12 young Mohideen left his native village to apprentice under a relative who had a business establishment in the heart of Matale town which was growing fast due to the economic boom. It must be stated here that this form of ‘learning the ropes’ as an apprentice’was a common path to business undertaken by many of the later Sri Lankan tycoons of the pre-independence era.
But he did not remain in that position for long .When his mentor failed in his business of trading in cocoa, cardamoms, cloves and arecanuts and wanted to close up his shop young Mohideen took over and eventually made a great success of it. His enterprise succeeded because he was able to earn the trust of both his buyers and sellers. He befriended Sinhalese and Tamil producers and the business he improved beyond measure took on the name of Meezan Estates Ltd [The scales] and Mohideen soon became famous as Meezan Mudalali – perhaps the most successful businessman of his time in Matale. He expanded his business interests to urban real estate as well as tea and rubber estates. Soon he owned over 3,000 acres of tea estates making him one of the richest men in the Central Province.
With his growing influence Meezan spent generously on charitable activities including funding a water scheme for his native village of Kurugoda also serving adjoining villages like Pangollamada located in Akurana. He also gave generously to Buddhist causes in Matale together with other emerging low country businessmen like Gunasena and John Mudalali.
Matale was well known as a town in which all communities lived in harmony and tended to help each other. As a generous public figure he became strong supporter of the UNP and a personal friend of its leaders like Dudley Senanayake and Sir John Kotelawela. UNP candidates for public office-both in the Municipality and Parliament were selected in consultation with Meezan who also bankrolled them during election time. He himself became a Municipal councillor. The Aluvihares of several generations had close links with him. it was Meezan who mentored ACS Hameed – a fellow villager from Kurugoda – and took him to the highest echelons of Sri Lankan politics as Minister of Foreign Affairs. He was a supporter and financier of the UNP through thick and thin.
Though his premature death at the age 53 in 1965 saved him from the worst political witch hunts under SWRD Bandaranaike who was his personal friend it was after 1970 and the Coalition regime that Meezan’s large family were deprived of their livelihood by the taking over of all their estates. Fortunately many of his children were well educated and could hold on till relief was given by President Premadasa despite the objections of their father’s erstwhile protégé ACS Hameed who surprisingly let them down badly.
It is only fitting that we, even a hundred years later, now commemorate a great self made Sri Lankan business magnate and generous contributor to all religious and social causes of his time. His name became synonymous with enterprise in Matale – a district in which I was privileged to serve as Government Agent in the late sixties.He was a model entrepreneur and his large family have also made outstanding contributions to this country which also attest to the late Meezan Hadjiars foresight and vision of a united and prosperous Srilanka.
by SARATH AMUNUGAMA.
-
Features5 days agoFinally, Mahinda Yapa sets the record straight
-
News7 days agoOver 35,000 drug offenders nabbed in 36 days
-
News6 days agoCyclone Ditwah leaves Sri Lanka’s biodiversity in ruins: Top scientist warns of unseen ecological disaster
-
News7 days agoRising water level in Malwathu Oya triggers alert in Thanthirimale
-
Features5 days agoHandunnetti and Colonial Shackles of English in Sri Lanka
-
Business3 days agoCabinet approves establishment of two 50 MW wind power stations in Mullikulum, Mannar region
-
Business7 days agoSri Lanka betting its tourism future on cold, hard numbers
-
News6 days agoJetstar to launch Australia’s only low-cost direct flights to Sri Lanka, with fares from just $315^

