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The minister just missed seeing the Rolls Royce picking us up for a sugar traders’ lunch

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London

More appointments and foreign visits

I have always believed that whatever you do, and whatever reputation you have gathered for yourself, an element of luck is necessary from time to time. This has been reflected in many ways, but one such outstanding example occurred when a delegation led by me was in London, on our way back home from Washington.

We were staying at a hotel where we found Mr. E. L.B. Hurulle, a Senior Minister also staying. We had met him in the lobby and spoken with him a few times. We happened to be in London, because we always made use of the opportunity of passing through London to Washington and back in order to have extensive discussions with our lawyers. When importing and shipping a large tonnage of food commodities, inevitably disputes arose. Some of these were settled amicably and by mutual agreement. But over some, we had to go in for arbitration in London, and some cases involved going to Court.

The Attorney-General in Sri Lanka could not handle all these matters himself. The volume was too great. We had therefore to have lawyers on the spot in London. Whilst in London, we usually spent about five to six working days sitting down with our lawyers and discussing each case coming up for trial or arbitration. Our departmental legal advisor brought with him 20-30 files, each of which constituted a dispute or a case.

Sometimes our Commercial Counselor in the High Commission joined our discussions, because he was our liaison with the lawyers on a regular basis. We kept him regularly posted with the facts of the various cases. Sometimes we had to see specialized counsel at consultations, in their chambers. When the discussions start we spent virtually a full working day with the lawyers, having a sandwich lunch at the conference table. Occasionally, when time permitted, we were taken out to a nearby pub for lunch.

Sometimes, the fact that we are in London gets around and then we get invited for lunch and sometimes dinner. Most luncheon invitations, we had to decline because of our work. There was one however, during this particular visit, that we couldn’t decline. This was a joint invitation from the major sugar trading firms, with which we had been doing business for a long time. This was to be a jointly hosted lunch by the Managing Directors of these companies.

On the one hand it would have been bad form for us to have declined. On the other, there was a distinct mutual advantage in meeting at this level, and exchanging views and discussing any problems. One also always learn at these discussions. We had been informed that they would send a car to pick us up at the hotel at 12 noon on the day of the lunch. This was to be a formal lounge suit affair. We were down in the lobby at about ten minutes to twelve to find Mr. Hurulle seated there. He was more casually dressed.

We exchanged pleasantries and were standing around chatting, when an old Ford Cortina drew up, somebody waved, Mr. Hurulle waved back, smiled at us and went with his host. The time was about three minutes to twelve. Sharp at noon, a splendid looking Rolls-Royce drew up and a tall liveried chauffeur strode to the front desk. We were lost, admiring the car, when I heard my name mentioned. I looked back and discovered that the Rolls-Royce was the car that had been sent to pick us up. On the way, the driver kept reporting as to where we were, over a radio communication system.

We all had the same thought. What would have been the impression created in Minister Hurulle’s mind, had he not left before we left and witnessed the splendour in which we were going to travel. We were certain that he would have gone back to Colombo and reported that we were living it up in London, and that Rolls-Royces were coming to pick us up. Most things when taken out of context would be damaging. But this would have been devastating. Explanations could come later. By that time lasting impressions could be generated and unfortunate suspicions aroused. Only a matter of three minutes saved us from the possibility of all these.

The lunch itself went off quite well. The heads of the sugar trading companies informed us that we enjoyed what they called Triple A status in the London sugar market. We did not know this. When we inquired what it meant they said that it meant that if we were to lift a phone in the Ministry in Colombo and say that we required a sugar cargo of 10,000 tons, they would ship it even without the opening of an L.C. They said that very few international customers enjoyed such a status. It was gratify ing to learn of this. I was tempted to tell them however, that their Rolls-Royce could have resulted in our relegation to triple F status in the Colombo market of innuendo and gossip.

Towards the end of 1981, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh visited Sri Lanka, and we fulfilled the customary duty of attending the garden party hosted by President and Mrs. Jayewardene. In a small society like Sri Lanka, such occasions can be a waste of time, since you happen to meet almost the same people most of the time. At the same time, they are important from the point of view of upholding settled international political social and diplomatic standards.

More appointments

In November 1981, 1 was appointed to the Board of Directors of the People’s Bank. This was in my capacity as Secretary, Cooperatives. As was well known, the People’s Bank had its genesis in the Co-operative movement, and continued to have a special relationship with the movement. I was also appointed to the Rural Credit Advisory Board of the Central Bank, a Board chaired by the Governor. These appointments meant more work and more time.

Visit to South Korea

In January 1982, I had to go to South Korea. This was in my capacity as a Director of the Ceylon Shipping Corporation. One day, Mr. Caspersz, the Chairman of the Corporation, told me in his own inimitable style, “Dharmasiri, we want you to go to South Korea, attend a lunch, reply to a toast, drink a glass of champagne and come back.” I asked “Since when has the government resorted to such extravagance?” The fact was. one of our container vessels, “Lanka Siri” built in a Korean shipyard was ready for delivery. My job was to go and formally accept it. The Minister of Food and the Minister of Shipping had agreed that I should go and the President had approved it.

I left for Seoul on January 31, accompanied by Mrs. Geetha Wijeyapala, Manager Legal and Insurance of the Shipping Corporation. The technical people had gone ahead and were already in Seoul. Sea trials of the ship were taking place. The expectation was that all the technical aspects would have been satisfactorily concluded, paving the way for the formal acceptance of the ship.

When I met the technical officers in Seoul however, I was not reassured by the manner they spoke. I did not detect a confident assertion from them after the conclusion of the sea trials that the ship was completely and fully sea-worthy and that I could proceed to accept it. They were hedging my questions.

Therefore, I went on probing, until it emerged that “A few matters” needed attention. At this point, I made it quite clear to all that I was not prepared to accept a ship which was not complete in all respects. We now had to go to Pusan where the ship had been built. In over a four hour Journey from Seoul by train, we saw something of the countryside. South Korea was a mountainous country with relatively limited arable land. The cold during this time of the year was intense, particularly to those who had come from a warm tropical climate. One had however to admire what the Koreans had achieved, in spite of war and an inhospitable terrain. This was obviously due to their energy, their industry and their focus. During this time..

There was still a curfew on after midnight for security reasons. After the trauma of the war, there was not unnaturally an obsession with security. Many important figures of government, from the President downwards, were figures with a military background. The people appeared to be obedient and disciplined. Their capacity for work seemed to be remarkable.

Both in Seoul and Pusan I had the experience of going down for breakfast at about 6.45 a.m. and being unable to find a seat in the quite large coffee shops in the hotels. At practically every table there were lounge suit clad businessmen with their brief cases opened, calculators, note pads and reams of documents spread out, avidly engrossed in business discussions. I had never seen such a sight of mass business discussions, at such an early hour anywhere else in the world. We were told that if we wished to have undelayed seating, 5.45 a.m. was a better time than 6.45 a.m!

Whilst in Pusan I had extensive discussions with our officers as well as representatives of the ship building firm and others. Things were that much more difficult for us because we did not at the time have an Embassy in South Korea. I had therefore to do a lot of drafting by hand, whilst the Legal and Insurance Manager kept hand written minutes of our various discussions.

By now the Korean parties were getting frantic, because the day had been fixed for the acceptance of the vessel and invitations had gone out to important people. My refusal to accept the vessel without further investigation was heading towards delay and loss of face for them. I sympathized but could not compromise. I had also discussed the whole matter in detail with our Legal and Insurance Manager who fully supported me.

I informed the technical people, that I would accept the ship as it was, only if they vouched in writing to me that they certify it was complete in all respects and that they recommend its formal acceptance. This they could not do. It was not easy to get through to Colombo, but I managed to speak to Mr. Caspersz on at least two occasions over an unclear line. He thought, we should accept the ship subject to an understanding to rectify defects. I disagreed. The stability of the vessel was in doubt, and this to me was fundamental, and once we accepted the vessel the problem was going to be with us.

I was not prepared to accept on this basis. Anybody else could do so. The whole thing had turned into a nightmare. We were isolated in Pusan, with no comfort or assistance from an Embassy. In the meantime, the Koreans were exerting heavy pressure on us to accept the ship on deadline. They appeared to be both upset and angry. I got our whole team together and made my position very clear. They had to agree that the main technical defects should be remedied and the contract amended.

I also telephoned Norway and spoke to our former consultants on shipping and fortified myself with their advice. I further contacted some UNDP. experts on shipping whom I had previously met. As a result of all this, it was decided to add the necessary ballast to stabilize the vessel fully. The Koreans commenced work on this immediately. But I wanted to see for myself. Therefore, one morning in the biting cold I boarded a launch with the technical officers and went on board the vessel to see the work in progress.

Some kind of large concrete blocks were being added to a part of the ship. By now it was clear that the ceremonial handing over could not take place on the scheduled date. The invitations would have to be cancelled. I was obviously not the most popular person with the Koreans, and the isolation, hard work and stress was perhaps making me a bit paranoid. Sometimes, the telephone by my bedside rang during the dead of night, when I was fast asleep. But when I lifted the receiver there was total silence.

I perhaps imagined that someone was trying to open my bedroom door. This was disturbing and I felt somewhat better after positioning against the door, a heavy armchair which was in my room.

In the end, there was no lunch and no champagne. The delivery of the vessel was postponed. I obtained a written guarantee on the ultimate stability of the vessel, from the ship builders. The letter of guarantee backed by a bank guarantee included the provision that any adjustments deemed necessary by the Classification Society would be made at their expense.

There also remained the question of some minor items of work. A separate agreement was signed that in respect of this work, both sides would jointly itemize and price this work, after which the Koreans would pay us that sum, so that we could get this work done in Colombo or elsewhere. Through all this, Geetha, the Legal and Insurance Manager was an unfailing source of competence and strength. It was fortunate that she came on this visit.

Thus ended for me the virtual saga of my first visit to South Korea. The reward lay in the satisfaction of overcoming numerous unforeseen obstacles, working hard, keeping one’s nerve and achieving a solution. There was an additional reward of Ministerial appreciation. My colleagues in the Ministry of Trade and Shipping told me, that on reading my report, Minister Lalith Athulathmudali .said, “Thank God, we sent Dharmasiri.”

A sudden visit to China and Pakistan

I had returned from the visit to South Korea and had barely settled down to work, when Lakshman de Mel rang me from the Trade Ministry, towards the middle of March 1982 and informed me that he and I with one or two others will have to go to China almost immediately, because the government had decided to purchase some extra rice for the buffer. This was completely unexpected, and our guess was that the government was thinking of some form of elections including perhaps a Presidential election, and wanted to ensure the availability of adequate food stocks. We already had the insurance of a buffer. This was going to be reinsurance.

Therefore, a delegation led by Lakshman, and consisting of Mr. Pulendiran, the Food Commissioner; Laurie Mariadasan, Director of Commerce; Mr. Dissanayake, Deputy Director Fiscal Policy, Ministry of Finance and myself left on March 21. The Chinese too, had to arrange this visit at very short notice. We were to have general discussions on food supplies and specifically negotiate for the purchase of 100,000 metric tons of rice.

Negotiations did not go as smoothly as before. The Chinese were really not prepared for this sudden visit. They did not have the quantity we needed in surplus with them. They therefore had to talk to Burma in order to procure stocks to meet the shortfall. The negotiation became tripartite. Beyond a point, the Chinese did not have control of the Burmese price. Rice shipped from Burma would cost us less due to the cheaper freight. We had to see that this advantage was not nullified in the overall result.

The negotiations did not go on, morning and afternoon. This was not the Chinese practice. There were sometimes half day breaks. On this particular occasion, these breaks sometimes even took longer because the Chinese had to consult the Burmese and await a reply from there. All in all, things dragged on. The Chinese, as was customary had arranged for our delegation to be flown out to the South-Western City of Kunming, known as the City of “Eternal Spring” close to the Burmese border, after the negotiations, for us to spend a few days there. The deadline for departure was now rapidly approaching, and we were still haggling over the price. We were to leave Beijing on March 27, but by the morning of the 26th, we had not yet reached agreement. Mr. Lakshman de Mel and I decided to stay on, and if necessary cancel the visit to Kunming.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Pieris) ✍️



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Features

New arithmetic of conflict: How the drone revolution is inverting economics of war

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Iranian drone

The contemporary global landscape is currently defined by two distinct but interconnected theaters of conflict that are fundamentally reshaping the future of military engagement, as noted by political analyst Fareed Zakaria. This shifts the advantage toward smaller states, or even non-state actors, who do not need to defeat a superpower in direct confrontation; they only need to sustain a constant level of low-cost harassment. In the Middle East, the escalating tensions between the United States and Iran have moved beyond traditional brinkmanship into a high-stakes confrontation centred on the Strait of Hormuz and regional infrastructure. This direction is characterised by Iran’s sophisticated use of asymmetric ‘precise mass’ to challenge American naval and technological superiority, forcing a re-evaluation of how a superpower maintains deterrence against a revolutionary regime that views its own hardware as expendable. This theatre serves as a primary example of how a medium-sized power can utilise low-cost, high-volume technology to neutralize the traditional advantages of a much wealthier adversary, potentially driving the region toward a dangerous nuclear threshold as conventional red lines are blurred.

Simultaneously, the war between Ukraine and Russia has become the world’s preeminent laboratory for the digital transformation of the battlefield. The direction of this conflict has shifted from a 20th-century war of attrition into a 21st-century war of algorithms, where the most critical ammunition is no longer just artillery shells, but data and software. Ukraine’s rapid adaptation—turning commercial drones into precision interceptors and using AI to process millions of combat images—has created a template for modern survival against a larger industrial power. Together, these two conflicts signal a global transition where the ‘exquisite’ military models of the past are being dismantled by the ‘new arithmetic’ of mass-produced precision. This essay examines how the inversion of war economics in these regions is ensuring that future supremacy will not belong to those with the most expensive platforms, but to those who can master the integration of industrial-scale with near-real-time software intelligence.

Fundamental departure

The ‘New Arithmetic of Conflict’ represents a fundamental departure from the 20th-century military paradigm, shifting the focus from high-cost, high-performance ‘exquisite’ systems to the power of ‘precise mass.’ For the last 50 years, military supremacy—particularly for the United States and its allies—has been defined by technologically superior platforms, such as the F-35 fighter jet or the Tomahawk cruise missile. While these systems are undeniably magnificent in their capabilities, they are also incredibly costly and irreplaceable in the short term. Because they take years to design and manufacture, losing even a handful in active combat is strategically damaging and painful for a modern military. This old model relied on a limited number of high-end assets that were slow to produce and even slower to replace, creating a vulnerability that smaller, more agile adversaries have now begun to exploit.

This traditional economic model is being turned upside down by the rise of cheap, commercial-off-the-shelf technology that achieves results previously reserved for superpower budgets. The emergence of the Shahed-type drone, which costs approximately $35,000, illustrates this shift perfectly. Unlike a $2 million cruise missile, these ‘one-way’ drones are built from common parts and can be launched in massive swarms. This creates a state of ‘precise mass,’ where the sheer volume of incoming, low-cost threats can overwhelm even the most sophisticated and expensive defence systems. The attacker no longer needs a massive industrial base to strike with precision; they only need the ability to scale simple, autonomous hardware.

Perhaps the most radical aspect of this inversion is the ‘cost-exchange ratio’ between attack and defence. In the past, an attacker generally had to spend more to destroy a target than a defender spent to protect it. Today, the arithmetic favours the attacker by an order of magnitude. To intercept a single $35,000 drone, a defender may be forced to fire a Patriot interceptor missile that costs roughly $4 million. This means the defender is spending over 100 times more than the attacker just to maintain the status quo. This economic reality suggests that a wealthier nation can effectively be ‘bankrupted’ or depleted of its ammunition reserves by a much smaller state or even a non-state actor using constant, low-cost harassment.

Primary laboratory

Ukraine has served as the primary laboratory for this new era of warfare, demonstrating that the real value in modern conflict is shifting from hardware to software and data. Ukrainian forces are producing stinging interceptor drones for as little as $2,000, capable of taking down far more expensive hardware. More importantly, they are treating battlefield data as a strategic asset, using millions of annotated images from combat flights to train drone AI. This creates a cycle of rapid wartime adaptation where lessons from the battlefield are turned into mass production in days rather than years. Ultimately, the winner of future conflicts may not be the nation with the finest individual platforms, but the one that can combine a small number of ‘exquisite’ weapons with a vast, intelligent, and cheaply networked mass of autonomous systems.

Building on the distinction between the ‘exquisite’ and the ‘expendable,’ the shift in military doctrine reflects a move away from the post-Cold War reliance on a small number of ultra-sophisticated assets toward a more resilient, high-volume architecture. For decades, Western military superiority was predicated on having the most advanced technology in the sky or on the sea, but the sheer cost and complexity of these systems have created a ‘fragility of excellence.’ When a single stealth fighter costs over $100 million, its loss is not merely a tactical setback but a national news event and a significant blow to the overall fleet’s readiness. This creates a psychological and strategic ‘risk aversion,’ where commanders may hesitate to deploy their most capable assets in high-threat environments for fear of losing an irreplaceable piece of national infrastructure.

Furthermore, the industrial reality of ‘exquisite’ systems is that they are built on highly specialised, low-volume production lines. In a high-intensity conflict, the rate of attrition—the speed at which equipment is destroyed—can quickly outpace the capacity of a modern industrial base to replace it. If a nation can only produce a few dozen advanced interceptors a year but loses hundreds of drones or missiles in a single week of combat, the mathematical deficit becomes insurmountable. This bottleneck has forced a re-evaluation of what constitutes a ‘good’ platform; the priority is shifting toward systems that are ‘good enough’ to be effective but cheap enough to be lost without compromising the mission or the budget.

In contrast to these legacy systems, the ‘expendable’ model treats hardware as a consumable resource, much like ammunition. By utilising modular designs and civilian-grade components, nations can mass-produce thousands of autonomous units that are inherently ‘attrition-tolerant.’ This does not mean the end of high-end technology, but rather its repositioning. Instead of a single $100 million jet trying to do everything, the future likely involves a ‘high-low’ mix where a few exquisite platforms act as command-and-control hubs, orchestrating vast swarms of cheap, expendable drones. This evolution ensures that even if the enemy successfully targets dozens of units, the collective network remains functional, shifting the strategic advantage back to the side that can sustain the fight through industrial scale and digital adaptability.

Concept of ‘precise mass’

The concept of ‘precise mass’ represents a strategic pivot where quantity possesses a quality of its own, enabled by the democratization of high-end technology. Historically, precision was a luxury available only to the world’s most advanced militaries, requiring specialised Guidance Systems and satellite constellations. Today, the ‘New Arithmetic’ flips this model by integrating commercial-off-the-shelf components—such as GPS chips found in smartphones and engines from hobbyist aircraft—into lethal, autonomous platforms.

This shift allows smaller states and non-state actors to achieve tactical objectives that once required a superpower’s budget, effectively levelling the playing field through the clever application of low-cost innovation.

The ‘Shahed Model’ serves as the primary case study for this transformation. By producing ‘one-way’ suicide drones for approximately $35,000 each, Iran has created a weapon that is essentially a flying piece of ammunition.

Because these drones are built from common, globally available parts, they are insulated from many traditional supply chain disruptions and can be manufactured at an industrial scale that far outpaces sophisticated cruise missiles. This approach prioritises ‘good enough’ technology—systems that are sufficiently accurate to hit a target but inexpensive enough to be deployed in staggering numbers without financial second-guessing.

The true power of this model is realised through ‘swarm tactics,’ which weaponise the mathematical limitations of modern air defences. When a country launches dozens or even hundreds of these low-cost drones simultaneously, it forces the defender into a ‘saturation’ crisis. Even the most advanced missile defence systems have a limited number of interceptors and can only track a finite number of targets at once. By flooding the airspace with cheap decoys and suicide drones, an attacker can ensure that while many units are shot down, a sufficient percentage will inevitably leak through to strike their targets. This creates a state of ‘precise mass,’ where volume becomes the ultimate delivery mechanism for precision, rendering traditional, high-cost defence umbrellas increasingly obsolete.

This evolution signifies that the era of the ‘silver bullet’—the single, perfect weapon—is giving way to the era of the ‘steel rain.’ In this new environment, the strategic advantage shifts to the side that can manage the highest rate of ‘precise attrition.’ Success is no longer measured by the technical sophistication of a single strike, but by the ability to sustain a continuous, overwhelming flow of autonomous threats that exhaust the enemy’s resources, patience, and defensive capacity.

‘Bankruptcy of the Defence’

The ‘Bankruptcy of the Defence’ represents a critical failure in the modern military-industrial complex’s ability to counter asymmetric threats. In the 20th century, the financial burden of warfare typically fell on the aggressor, who had to invest in expensive bombers or long-range missiles to penetrate a nation’s borders. Today, that economic gravity has shifted entirely. The most radical part of this inversion is the ‘cost-exchange ratio,’ a mathematical reality that turns defensive success into a financial liability. When a defender successfully intercepts a threat, they are often winning the tactical battle while simultaneously losing the economic war.

This disparity is most visible in what can be called the ‘$4 Million Solution.’ In modern conflict zones, we regularly see sophisticated air defence batteries—designed to intercept high-altitude ballistic missiles—being forced to engage low-speed, ‘suicide’ drones. Using a $4 million Patriot interceptor to neutralise a $35,000 Shahed-type drone is an unsustainable strategy. Even if the defence achieves a 100% intercept rate, the attacker is essentially ‘trading up’ in value at a staggering scale. The defender is forced to expend a finite, high-cost resource to eliminate a nearly infinite, low-cost nuisance, creating a logistical bottleneck where the supply of interceptors can never meet the demand of the swarm.

This ‘Losing Game’ fundamentally alters the grand strategy of global powers. Mathematically, when a defender is spending over 100 times more than the attacker per engagement, they are participating in a process of rapid financial and material depletion. As Fareed Zakaria notes, this ‘new arithmetic’ shifts the advantage toward smaller states, insurgent groups, or even criminal organisations. These actors do not need to defeat a superpower’s navy or air force in a direct confrontation; they only need to sustain a constant level of low-cost harassment. Over time, the cost of maintaining a ‘perfect’ defense becomes so high that it can effectively bankrupt a wealthier opponent or force them to withdraw from a region simply because the price of protection has become greater than the value of the presence.

Interceptors alone won’t do

Ultimately, this economic inversion suggests that the future of defence cannot rely on ‘exquisite’ interceptors alone. The current model is built on a scarcity of precision, but in an era where precision is mass-produced, the defense must find a way to make interception as cheap as the intrusion. Until a nation can field directed-energy weapons or low-cost kinetic interceptors that match the $35,000 price point of the threat, they remain trapped in a defensive paradigm that is both mathematically flawed and strategically exhausting.

The final piece of this military evolution is the emergence of Ukraine as the ‘Great Laboratory’ of modern warfare, where necessity has birthed a model of adaptation that operates at wartime speed. This environment has transformed the country from a passive recipient of aid into a sovereign architect of a new kind of combat. Central to this transformation is the development of the ‘STING’ interceptor drone. Produced by groups like Wild Hornets for approximately $2,000, these drones can reach speeds of 280 km/h—fast enough to chase down and destroy the lumbering Shahed drones that have plagued Ukrainian infrastructure. By mid-2025, these low-cost predators had already downed over 3,000 enemy targets, proving that a $2,000 solution could reliably neutralize a threat costing tens of thousands, further tilting the economic scales in favor of the agile defender.

However, the most significant output of this laboratory is not the hardware itself, but the data it generates. Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov has noted that Ukraine now possesses a unique array of battlefield data that is unmatched anywhere in the world, including millions of annotated images gathered during tens of thousands of combat flights. In a historic move, Ukraine has begun opening access to this ‘digital ammunition’ through a dedicated AI platform. This allows international partners and defense firms to train their algorithms on real-world combat footage—spanning everything from electronic warfare interference to the movements of camouflaged ‘turtle tanks’—bridging the ‘sim-to-real’ gap that often causes sophisticated Western drones to fail in unpredictable, messy environments.

‘Software-defined’ battlefield

This data-centric approach has led to a ‘software-defined’ battlefield where the loop between a lesson learned, and a technical update is measured in days. Ukraine is now moving toward a procurement model where AI-driven analytics, rather than manual requests, determine which systems are purchased based on their real-world effectiveness. By treating every drone sortie as a data point in a broader matrix, the Ukrainian military is effectively closing the loop on procurement and employment, ensuring that only the most effective, attrition-tolerant technologies reach the front. This institutionalisation of failure analysis into the next generation of software means that the ‘Made in Ukraine’ badge has become a global gold standard for battle-proven, autonomous technology.

Ultimately, the implications of this laboratory stretch far beyond the current conflict. As human judgment gradually gives way to computer algorithms for target detection and navigation, the war’s most valuable legacy may be the creation of the world’s first ‘algorithmic’ military. The transition from industrial mass to algorithmic precision suggests that the countries that prevail in the future will not be those with the largest stockpiles of stagnant hardware, but those that can own and manage the ‘data polygons’ necessary to refine their autonomous systems in near-real time. Ukraine is no longer just fighting a war; it is hosting the debut of a future where data is the ultimate force multiplier.

The inversion of war economics signifies a fundamental shift where industrial capacity and software integration have eclipsed the traditional pursuit of ‘technological exquisiteness’ as the primary metrics of military power. For decades, the measure of a superpower was its ability to field a small number of nearly invulnerable, multi-million-dollar platforms. However, in the modern landscape, these ‘exquisite’ systems are increasingly vulnerable to ‘precise mass’—vast swarms of low-cost, autonomous drones that can be produced at a rate of thousands per day. This transition means that the ‘physical platform’ is becoming a commodity, while the true competitive advantage lies in the ‘compute foundation’ and ‘software-defined’ capabilities that allow these systems to be networked and updated in real-time. Consequently, the victor in future conflicts will not necessarily be the nation with the most expensive fighter jet, but the one that can maintain a resilient, high-volume industrial base capable of sustaining an ‘attrition-tolerant’ force that evolves faster than an adversary can target it.

Double-edged sword for smaller nations

For smaller nations like Sri Lanka, the arrival of this new military era offers a double-edged sword of strategic opportunity and profound vulnerability. Traditionally, small states were sidelined in the global arms race due to the prohibitive costs of ‘exquisite’ platforms like advanced fighter jets or missile destroyers, which often consumed unsustainable portions of a national budget. However, the shift toward ‘precise mass’ means that countries with limited resources can now develop significant deterrent capabilities through the localised production of low-cost, high-impact autonomous systems. By investing in software-defined defences and domestic drone manufacturing, a nation like Sri Lanka can achieve a level of coastal and territorial security that previously required a superpower’s investment. Not only that, but Sri Lanka can also develop into an export market for the new precise technology which has a wide demand from warring countries. Conversely, the democratisation of these ‘one-way’ technologies also means that non-state actors or regional adversaries can more easily threaten national infrastructure, forcing small nations to prioritise digital resilience and rapid technological adaptation over the maintenance of ageing, high-cost legacy hardware.

by Prof. M. W. Amarasiri de Silva

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Turning science into action: Prof. Gothamie Weerakoon calls out Biodiversity “Narratives”

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Cladonia species

By Ifham Nizam

In an exclusive interview with The Island, Ifham Nizam speaks with Professor Gothamie Weerakoon—Senior Curator and leading researcher on lichens and slime moulds at the Natural History Museum—who offers a candid, evidence-driven critique of corporate sustainability, global biodiversity governance, and the realities facing countries like Sri Lanka.

With over 450,000 specimens under her care and more than 100 new lichen species described through fieldwork across South and Southeast Asia, Prof. Weerakoon brings a rare combination of deep scientific expertise and frontline ecological observation.

Her message is clear: biodiversity loss is accelerating, and much of what is presented as “progress” remains largely unproven.

Excepts of the full interview

Q: The Natural History Museum speaks of turning science into action—what evidence is there that businesses are actually changing behaviour rather than rebranding sustainability narratives?

A:There is emerging evidence of change, but when biodiversity is the focus, the gap between action and narrative becomes much more visible.

Some companies are moving beyond broad commitments by measuring their impacts on ecosystems, setting targets to halt biodiversity loss, and reporting through frameworks like TNFD (Taskforce on Nature-related Financial Disclosures). But these are still the exceptions.

Real change becomes evident when businesses transform supply chains—eliminating deforestation-linked commodities, adopting regenerative agriculture, and working with local communities to restore ecosystems. Investment in habitat restoration and science-led, location-specific action also signals progress.

Turning science into action: Prof. Gothamie Weerakoon calls out Biodiversity “Narratives”

However, without clear baselines, measurable outcomes, and long-term commitment, biodiversity claims risk remaining abstract. At present, biodiversity is still more visible in corporate language than in verified outcomes.

Q: Are multinational corporations genuinely reducing their biodiversity footprint, or simply shifting environmental costs to developing countries like Sri Lanka?

A: The reality is mixed, but there is strong evidence that impacts are often being shifted rather than reduced.

Consumption in wealthier economies continues to drive habitat loss in biodiversity-rich regions. In countries like Sri Lanka, export-driven sectors, such as agriculture and rubber, contribute to deforestation and habitat fragmentation.

Lichens grow on both natural and artificial surfaces

Companies may improve their environmental performance, domestically, while outsourcing ecological damage to regions with weaker regulation. So while awareness is increasing, most corporations are not yet reducing their global biodiversity footprint.

Q:How do you distinguish between credible biodiversity action and corporate greenwashing in real terms?

A:Credible action is science-based, measurable, and location-specific.

Companies must establish baselines, quantify their ecological impacts, and demonstrate real outcomes—such as reduced deforestation or restored habitats—verified independently.

Greenwashing, on the other hand, relies on vague terms like “nature-positive” without evidence. It often highlights small projects while ignoring major impacts, or depends on offsets instead of reducing harm.

Red Christmas lichens are not a species found in Arctic habitats. Instead, it is characteristic of tropical and subtropical regions, indeed found in the Sinharaja Forest Reserve, particularly in the Morningside and Pitadeniya areas

The key test is simple: can a company prove that biodiversity loss linked to its operations is declining in specific places over time? If not, it is likely narrative rather than action.

Q:Many biodiversity commitments remain voluntary—should there be legally binding global standards for corporate accountability?

A:Yes, there is a strong case for binding standards.

Voluntary commitments lead to uneven progress and make it difficult to separate genuine action from superficial claims. Legal frameworks could ensure consistent reporting, accountability, and minimum standards.

However, biodiversity is highly local. Any global system must allow for flexibility and support developing countries rather than imposing rigid rules.

Q:What sectors are currently causing the most irreversible biodiversity damage, and why are they still operating with limited restrictions?

A:The most damaging sectors include agriculture, forestry, mining, and fossil fuel extraction.

Agriculture—especially large-scale monocultures—drives deforestation and habitat loss. Mining and fossil fuels cause long-term ecological disruption, while marine ecosystems suffer from overfishing.

These sectors persist with limited restrictions because they are economically powerful, biodiversity loss is harder to quantify than carbon emissions, and global supply chains allow impacts to be outsourced. Regulation also remains fragmented and weakly enforced.

Q:In countries like Sri Lanka, development projects often override environmental concerns—how can science-based tools realistically influence political decision-making?

A:Science-based tools can make biodiversity loss visible and measurable.

Environmental impact assessments, ecological mapping, and predictive models allow policymakers to understand trade-offs clearly. When ecological risks are quantified, they become harder to ignore.

The key is integrating these tools into planning systems so environmental considerations are not optional, but a core part of decision-making.

Q:Can biodiversity conservation truly coexist with large-scale infrastructure and energy projects?

A:Yes—but only if biodiversity is considered from the beginning.

Projects must be designed using science-based planning, avoiding sensitive ecosystems and incorporating mitigation strategies like wildlife corridors and habitat restoration.

Conservation and development are not inherently incompatible, but poor planning creates conflict.

Q:Are global biodiversity frameworks failing to address ground realities in developing economies?

They often fall short in implementation.

A:Global frameworks provide guidance, but must be adapted to local conditions. Developing countries face capacity constraints and competing priorities.

Success depends on building local scientific capacity, aligning goals with economic realities, and ensuring flexibility in how targets are applied.

Q:What role should governments play when businesses resist biodiversity regulations citing economic pressures?

A:Governments must act as regulators and enforcers.

They should establish clear legal standards, backed by monitoring and penalties. At the same time, incentives—such as green finance and technical support—can help businesses transition.

Economic arguments should not override ecological realities, especially when long-term costs of biodiversity loss are considered.

Q:Are financial institutions doing enough to penalise environmentally destructive investments?

A:Not yet. While awareness of biodiversity risk is increasing, short-term profits still dominate decision-making. ESG frameworks exist, but enforcement is weak.

Professor Gothamie Weerakoon

Stronger systems are needed—binding criteria, independent audits, and better integration of ecological risk into financial decisions.

Q:How can local communities be given real decision-making power rather than token consultation?

A:Communities must be recognised as partners, not stakeholders.

Legal rights, participatory planning, and co-management systems are essential. Traditional knowledge should be integrated with scientific data.

Without real authority, consultation becomes symbolic rather than meaningful.

Q:What immediate, science-backed interventions can be implemented in Sri Lanka?

A:Practical steps include restoring mangroves, creating wildlife corridors, and community-led reforestation.

Using GIS mapping and monitoring systems can identify high-risk areas, while sustainable livelihood programmes reduce pressure on ecosystems.

These interventions must be evidence-based and locally adapted.

Q:How can policymakers protect biodiversity-rich regions from short-term exploitation?

A:Through zoning laws, protected areas, and mandatory environmental assessments.

Valuing ecosystem services in economic planning is also critical. When biodiversity is treated as an economic asset, it becomes harder to ignore.

Q:What mechanisms exist to hold corporations accountable when biodiversity damage crosses borders?

A:International agreements, supply chain regulations, and reporting frameworks like TNFD play a role.

Financial institutions, legal systems, and civil society also contribute to accountability. But enforcement across borders remains a major challenge.

Q:Is there sufficient transparency in corporate biodiversity reporting?

A:No—current systems are inconsistent and largely voluntary.

Many companies fail to quantify their impacts, and independent verification is limited. Without standardised metrics and audits, transparency remains inadequate.

Q:How can biodiversity be integrated into national economic planning without slowing growth?

A:By recognising that biodiversity supports economic resilience.

Nature-based solutions—such as mangrove restoration or sustainable agriculture—deliver both ecological and economic benefits.

Strategic planning can align conservation with development rather than treating them as opposing goals.

Q:What are the long-term economic risks of biodiversity loss in South Asia?

A:They are severe. Declining pollination, soil degradation, and fisheries collapse threaten food security. Loss of forests and wetlands increases disaster risks.

Ultimately, biodiversity loss undermines economic stability and increases vulnerability to climate shocks.

Q:How can science communication better influence public opinion and policy?

A: By making data accessible and relevant.

Visual tools, storytelling, and collaboration with media can translate complex science into actionable insights. Public engagement is essential for policy change.

Q:Are current conservation models too dependent on international funding?

A:Yes, and that creates vulnerability.

Long-term sustainability requires diversified funding—government support, private investment, and community-based initiatives.

Local ownership is key to lasting impact.

Q:Ultimately, who should bear the greatest responsibility for reversing biodiversity loss?

A:Responsibility is shared—but governments hold the greatest leverage.

They set the rules, enforce regulations, and shape economic systems. Corporations and consumers also play critical roles, but without strong governance, progress will remain limited.

Prof. Weerakoon’s assessment is both measured and uncompromising: biodiversity loss is no longer a distant ecological issue—it is an economic, political, and social crisis.

Aligned with the mission of the Natural History Museum, her message is clear: the future of conservation depends not on promises, but on verifiable, science-based action grounded in real ecosystems—not narratives.

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Looming shadow: How and why a distant war could threaten vitality of Sri Lankan healthcare

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An Independent Freelance Correspondent

As the sun sets over the Indian Ocean, the tranquil beauty of Sri Lanka feels many a world away from the smoke, thunder, misery and deaths in the Middle East, taking place in the midst of a senseless war. Yet for all that, in our interconnected world, a butterfly might flit its wings in the Gulf, and a storm might eventually break over our own little paradise island, as a strange reversal of the status quo. However, the escalating conflict in the Middle East is no longer just a distant headline for Sri Lankans; it is an ominous cloud gathering that threatens the very backbone of our much-bandied social contract, our healthcare system.

While we often view war through the lens of geopolitics or rising oil prices, the “Ground Zero” of its impact in Sri Lanka may well be the hospital ward, the local dispensary, and the dinner tables of our most vulnerable citizens, just as much as it would impact on the healthcare professionals who are responsible for maintaining a well-oiled machine; the pun being intentional.

The Fuel Paradox: When Mobility Becomes a Luxury

Our health service runs on wheels as much as it does on training and wisdom. The entire system has to be supported by energy. The Middle East remains the lifeblood of our energy supply, and any disruption to the Strait of Hormuz would send immediate shockwaves to our fuel pumps. Lack of fuel, as well as skyrocketing prices of oil, would have a cascading detrimental effect on our health service.

For the average citizen, a spike in fuel prices is not just a “transport issue” but a miserable calamity that could become a noteworthy barrier to life-saving healthcare. When bus fares double and three-wheeler charges skyrocket, a mother in a rural village may think twice and even hesitate to take her feverish child to the nearest Base Hospital. In the calculus of poverty, the cost of the journey often outweighs the urgency of the ailment, until and most unfortunately, it sadly and tragically becomes too late.

Furthermore, our healthcare workers, the doctors, nurses, public health midwives, clerks, orderlies, and other grades of minor staff, are certainly not immune to the impacts of the fuel crisis. Unlike many top-tier officials of the rest of the public service, most medical staff rely on their own vehicles or public transport to reach their posts. If fuel becomes a rationed luxury, we risk a kind of inevitable “silent strike” where the healers simply cannot afford to commute to the hallowed places of healing. The other grades of staff mentioned are certainly no less important to run the machine, and they will also be at the receiving end of the fuel crisis and transport problems.

A Bitter Pill: The Private Sector Squeeze

While the state provides free healthcare, the private sector has long acted as a vital pressure valve for the national system. However, the conflict is rapidly tightening the screws here as well.

 =The Price of Healing: Most of our medicines and vaccines are imported. With global shipping routes disrupted and “war risk” insurance premiums surging, the landed cost of a simple strip of a commonly used medicine or a vital course of antibiotics to clear a lung infection would climb disproportionately.

 =The “In-Patient” Inflation: Private hospitals are energy-intensive hubs. From the electricity that powers life-support machines to the diesel that runs emergency generators, rising costs will most unfortunately have to be passed directly to the patient.

 =Consultation Charges: As overheads, maintenance costs, staff salaries, and medical supplies spiral, even the renowned Private Hospitals, as well as even the most dedicated private practitioners, would find themselves forced to increase fees.

When the private sector becomes unaffordable, those patients migrate back to the already overstretched state hospitals, creating a “domino effect” of long queues and exhausted resources.

The Empty Plate: Nutrition as the First Line of Defence will be in danger

Perhaps, the most insidious impact of the Middle Eastern crisis is the one that happens at the grocery store leading to great difficulties in getting food into the table. Sri Lanka relies heavily on remittances from our workers in the Gulf and the robust export of our “black gold”- Ceylon Tea. The war has stalled tea exports to major markets like Iran and Iraq, costing the industry millions every week. Simultaneously, if our workers in the Middle East face displacement, the flow of foreign exchange into our country, which would benefit even the villagers, might just dry up.

When a family’s income drops, the first thing to be sacrificed is often the “quality” and even the quantity of the food that comes onto the table. We might see a return to starch-heavy, protein-poor diets. For a pregnant mother, this means anaemia and untold risks to the yet-to-be-born baby. For a growing young child, it means stunting and weakened immunity. For the elderly, it will mean increasing the frailty of old age. We are essentially “importing” a future health crisis of malnutrition that no amount of free medicine can easily fix.

The Supply Chain Shadow

Modern medicine is a “just-in-time” industry. Many of our specialised vaccines and a variegated plethora of treatments require a “cold chain” – a continuous refrigerated journey. With major Gulf air hubs facing disruptions, these temperature-sensitive medicines must be rerouted. This adds days to the journey and increases the risk of “spoilage.” A vaccine that loses its potency due to a shipping delay is not just a financial loss; it is a lost shield for a child and even, older and elderly people.

Sadly, just like the fuel situation, there have not been any worthwhile efforts to “stockpile” at least some of the essential medicines. Of course, unlike just storing fuel to stockpile, medicines have their own problems with shelf-life and expiry dates. It is indeed a vexing problem that might cause a major, tricky situation at some time in the future. The government is planning to issue medicines for two months from the clinics etc. One only hopes that the currently available stock could be used effectively without that initiative leading to a desperate shortage of essential drugs.

Navigating the Storm: Some Ways to Mitigate the Crisis

This author has brought to light some of the issues that we may see in the future. However, it is not an exhaustive or complete list of all possible consequences. There could be quite a few more. While the situation is grave at present, it is perhaps not unmanageable. To protect the vitality of our healthcare, we must adopt a “War Footing” of preparedness:

1. Fuel Priority for Healthcare: The government must establish a “Green Lane” for healthcare personnel and emergency vehicles, ensuring that they have subsidised or prioritised access to fuel to prevent service interruptions. This has to include the private healthcare personnel as well.

2. Strategic Buffer Stocks: We must move away from “just-in-time” imports and build a minimum 6-month buffer stock of essential medicines and vaccines. We need to utilise regional cooperation with neighbours like India to diversify supply routes.

3. Strengthening Primary Care: By investing in local dispensaries and public health midwives, we can treat ailments before they require expensive hospital stays, as well as extended forms of treatment, reducing the transport burden on patients.

4. Nutritional Safety Nets: Expanding school meal programmes and providing fortified food supplements to pregnant mothers can act as a firewall against the malnutrition that is likely to be caused by economic shocks.

5. Digital Health Integration: Expanding “telemedicine” can allow specialists to consult with rural patients remotely, saving both the doctor and the patient the high cost of travel.

A Call for Preparedness, but not a Harbinger of Panic

It is ever so easy to read these points and see a looming, tremendously gloomy fog that could envelop our revered Motherland in the not-too-distant future. However, from a clearer perspective, the purpose of this analysis is not for the writer to act as a prophet of doom, but for this enterprise to serve as a wake-up call for proactive management and to take all necessary steps, well in time, to avoid a catastrophe.

Our health service is the crown jewel of our nation. It has been built on the Herculean effort of generations who believed that health is definitely a right, and certainly not a privilege. To protect it, we must look beyond our borders and understand that the proverb “a stitch in time saves nine” is what we need now. We must strengthen our social safety nets before the ripples of the Middle Eastern war become a tidal wave that hits our shores. We need to act purposefully now, to be able to steadfastly cushion whatever blows that might come our way in the future.

This is not a forecast of a disaster that is one-hundred per cent certain to occur. In stark contrast, it is meant to be a sober and sombre analysis of possible ramifications that we must prepare for today, to save the lives of our people and look after their health tomorrow.

Dr B. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin),
FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.

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