It was not our conflict, but by mid-March it had become impossible to separate from our lives. Schools moving online, and high-pitched safety alerts shrieking from our phones. Daily ballistic missile counts from the Ministry of Defense. Drone interceptions overhead. Explosions rattling our windows. The scream of fighter jets patrolling the sky. Threats issued online in ALL-CAPS. The bombing of a nuclear plant in Iran resulted in a counterstrike against the one in Abu Dhabi. A tweet proclaiming the end of a civilization.

The more immediate question was what any of this meant for us. My wife and I have lived in Dubai for nearly 20 years. We have built our careers and have raised our 11 and 13 yr old children here. We didn’t want to leave, but we also didn’t want to be unable to leave if things deteriorated. I found myself reading everything obsessively. News articles, flight tracking websites, munitions analyses, drone specifications, interceptor costs and social media threads. Each promised clarity, but none delivered. Every conversation with friends seemed to begin the same way, with no explicit mention of its subject: “What are you guys thinking?”

“The UAE is our home,” one said. “We’re staying.”

I admired their certainty, which made me feel guilty for even considering the alternative. But once you allowed yourself to contemplate leaving, the questions multiplied. We were entirely dependent on air-conditioning; what if the power plants were bombed? What about the desalination plants that provided our drinking water in a country where there is no fresh water? Or the airport, potentially our only exit? How much risk was reasonable? How would we know when that line had been crossed? Friends looked at the same information and reached different conclusions. Some left immediately. Some stayed and bought Starlink subscriptions. Some returned just as others were leaving. We debated endlessly without finding an answer.

For me, uncertainty felt harder to manage than the fear of being struck by a missile or debris. That kind of fear seems straightforward. Because you don’t control the source of it, it also seems easy to dismiss, like the fear of being struck while crossing the road. In my case, uncertainty had disguised itself as research and the promise of optionality.

We did have options. Escape is a privilege. My wife and I have financial resources and flexible jobs. The four of us have passports that allow us to travel. Hundreds of millions of people currently living through wars don’t have these luxuries. We could leave. But even that raised questions. We are an Indian and Pakistani family, so a reflexive retreat to our familial homelands was not possible given those countries’ hostile visa rules. As US citizens, we could have gone to America, but it felt emotionally distant and the time difference would have made online schooling for the kids difficult.

Dubai is the closest we have come to building a home. We didn’t want to leave. But the question became less about whether it was safe enough to stay and more about whether we would still be able to leave if it wasn’t. One evening, my wife and I were talking at the dining table after the kids had gone to bed, scrolling again through the latest updates. We had done this every night for days. Finally she looked up with the energy that comes from being on the verge of clarity. “What are we actually waiting for?” We looked at each other and realized, almost without saying it, that we had our answer. We packed quickly, boarded our dog while we considered a more permanent decision, booked an Airbnb in Bangkok for a month and bought return flights good for three months.

Why Bangkok? The city had a reputation for delicious food, seemed relatively easy to navigate, had plenty of long-stay apartments and an airline that had direct flights to the places we needed to be for work. More importantly, it was distant enough from the war to provide some peace of mind. Upon arrival, the war disappeared from view. Our new city had its own concerns. Families gathered by the building’s swimming pool. Food stalls opened in the evening as office workers hurried home. A few days in, I slid open the balcony door to let in some fresh air and heard a familiar whoosh. My body reacted before I did. I tightened and scanned the sky for the trails I had become accustomed to seeing over Dubai. It took another second to realize I was hearing one of the Bangkok metro trains pull into a nearby station. A few sparrows continued wheeling in the sky. I felt the tension leave my body almost as quickly as it had arrived.

Soon, that muscle memory also faded. My obsession with tracking the news abated. Clarity seemed less relevant. Our days took on a rough shape. Lunch at home and dinner out. The owner of a tucked-away, cash-only restaurant remembered the prawn pad thai and lemongrass chicken salad we had ordered the first time. During our third Muay Thai boxing lesson at a nearby gym, one of the regulars completed her sparring sequence with a series of thwacks that left us staring enviously at her flexibility and strength. Later, she removed her gloves, unrolled her hand wraps and looked over at us noobs with a smile. “You bring your kids for boxing. Very good!” It was nothing really, an opening to a conversation, but it was a kindness that moved me more than I expected.

Bangkok began to feel less like a waiting room than a place where life was being lived, however temporarily. I realized, because it had been taken away, that I had been missing the rhythm of home.

Home is a place, but it is also things and people. The sofa that remembers your shape. The tree you watered for ten years, now shading the patio. Waving to your barber when you see him in the grocery store. More than anything, home is the absence of uncertainty about tomorrow. The shortcut to the gym to beat traffic. The kind of salad you’ll eat for lunch. The weekend activities for the kids that you’ve divided with your wife. Knowing how to shampoo your sofa after the dog soiled it. Remove all that, and even a comfortable life feels untethered.

After just two weeks, a ceasefire was announced. The kids’ schools wrote to say they’d reopen in person. This time the decision required remarkably little consideration. To have the kids back in school with their friends was too strong a pull. There was a flight. We wanted to be on it.

The moment we landed in Dubai, the preceding weeks dissolved. Without the daily tempo of tit-for-tat strikes, the psychological miasma that had occupied so much mental space just wasn’t there. Ordinary life reabsorbed us with unthinking force. Walking the dog down the familiar back streets, jogging under a blue sky at the beach, buying locally grown blueberries. A tree on our boundary wall had been overgrown for months, its roots cracking through the stone tiles in our garden. I spoke to our neighbor about trimming it. “Just give me some notice so I can take the lights off the branches,” she said. I ordered replacement tiles. I remember being elated at the ordinariness of the conversation, with its implicit investment in a tomorrow.

Unsurprisingly, the war has stopped and restarted several times since we returned. Here on the edge of the conflict, I understand positions may shift, and the uncertainty will continue. But I also realize that logging missile interceptions or speculating endlessly on how the war will unfold is irrelevant.

Uncertainty rarely resolves itself definitively. It tricks us into believing that a little more research, one more article, one more expert conversation, one more week will reveal the perfect path forward. Yet the future will never be clear. The place we call home may shift depending on citizenship, careers, climate change or persecution. These are factors over which we have little control. We choose to live anyway, and inevitably, without us noticing, life recreates its ordinary rhythm.

In a seemingly staged event more akin to a scene from “Mean Girls” than a diplomatic event in the Oval Office, U.S. President Donald Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance verbally attacked Zelensky using Russian propaganda talking points and gaslighting techniques. Zelensky held his ground and refused to capitulate – unlike scores of Republican congress members – or cede mineral rights without security protections that would harm his constituents. An increasingly astute statesman and former professional actor, Zelensky rapidly understood the scene and his intended role in it, thus referring to the suits worn by the other men in the room as “costumes.”

As a theatre professor focusing on performance in Eastern Europe, I’m regularly impressed by Zelensky’s adept balancing of stagecraft and statecraft. We can learn about both by understanding his craftsmanship. Using the tools of a skilled actor, Zelensky deftly dodged the juvenile efforts to strong-arm him using wordplay and repartee while maintaining a steady voice and controlled physical disposition. In doing so, he defended his war-torn country from brutish insults, harnessed the scene to garner global support, exposed his rivals, and schooled us all on how to stand up to a bully.

President Zelensky once told historian Timothy Snyder that “everything is in Shakespeare.” Zelensky has absorbed both the lessons of stagecraft and statecraft from the Bard. Eliot A. Cohen, in his book “The Hollow Crown: Shakespeare on How Leaders Rise, Rule, and Fall” points out the many ways Shakespeare collapses stagecraft and statecraft, showing how the most effective leaders master both. A leader like the current U.S. president may partially understand stagecraft, though like a despotic 19^th century actor-manager, he often mistakenly overemphasizes his own role and plays mostly for the applause. Zelensky understands the “craft” and executes his role with complexity, keeping multiple live and digital audiences in mind and remaining steadfast to clear-eyed objectives.

Zelensky’s background in improvisational comedy prepared him for deep listening and quick thinking, verbal acuity and wordplay, deft timing, tone shifting and understanding a scenario-in-process. This enabled him to deflect and drive his interlocutors into fully exposing their uncompromising position as well as their weaknesses of character. He used the American leaders’ own words against them to demonstrate his own competence, declare his position and unmask their ignorance and alignment with Kremlin talking points.

Zelensky moved toward unmasking when he hit a clear nerve after he said, “But you have a nice ocean and don’t feel now, but you will feel it in the future.” Though Trump grew increasingly agitated and stated, “Don’t tell us what we’re going to feel,” Zelensky boldly riposted, “I’m telling you. You will feel influenced.” He repeated it several times. Aware of losing his footing, Trump tried to turn the tables by declaring the weakness of Zelensky’s position and his lack of “cards”. Zelensky swiftly shifted the tone, this time with a moral emphasis, reminding the American president that this wasn’t a game. “I’m not playing cards,” he said. “I’m very serious, Mr. President, very serious.”

The agitated U.S. president began rambling and using increasingly hyperbolic language and nonsensical arguments, while Zelensky interjected with only short, direct and precise facts (stylistically creating a great contrast between the two leaders while creating powerful digital sound bites). The meeting ended without any agreements, and Zelensky did not get the U.S. security guarantees he had hoped for. He did, however, earn the respect of the leaders of democracies on which he must now rely for support.

To be sure, the loss of U.S. support for Ukraine would have a devastating impact on Ukrainian war efforts and negotiations and will weaken European security. All signs, though, already pointed toward an eminent withdrawal of significant future support for Ukraine by this administration, even with a signed minerals agreement. America’s relationship with its allies shifted on Jan. 20, 2025, and the new administration’s coercive playbook is being solidified daily.

Whatever the outcome of future negotiations – and for the sake of the ravaged Ukrainians people let’s hope it goes quickly in their favor­ – Zelensky has taught us some things about leadership and standing up to bullies. Perhaps it’s time for us all to enroll in an improv class and prepare to face those who are threatening our future.

If the new parliament is a pot of freshly collected milk, there are chunks of cow dung still there. The new members, both young and old, and male and female, and of all ethnicities spoke eloquently against the corrupt or the stinky cow dung. The president and the prime minister showed mature behavior by example.

In this first term of President AKD in office, I’m thinking about how he and the NPP can best use their years of dedication to eliminating injustice and poverty, their current influence in the country, and their political capital to advance the lives of average Sri Lankans who have suffered for decades under corrupt rulers.

President AKD came into office with a reputation as a commoner who is well educated and has a gift for words. He showed honesty and sincerity. I am not quite sure if they are well versed in foreign policy.

Donald Trump and his cronies have vowed to replace the nonpartisan civil service with loyalists and to weaponize the Department of Justice and the military against those they perceive as enemies. They have promised to incarcerate and deport millions of immigrants, send federal troops into Democratic cities, silence LGBTQ+ Americans, prosecute journalists and their political opponents, and end abortion across the country. They want to put in place an autocracy in which a powerful leader and his chosen loyalists make the rules under which the rest of us must live.

There was a time I advocated for a benevolent dictator to get the job done. The problem with that, it is hard to find that benevolent leader in Sri Lanka for sure. Just look at the last 75 years. So, AKD can’t take the route Trump is taking with 75 million American votes.

This is what I like to see happen to move Sri Lanka forward in the path people put them on. To me, this is a desire of the people expressed on a series of occasions from the chance first given to yaha palanaya (good governance), the subsequent Aragalayaya (Struggle) that resulted in getting rid of Gota and rejecting the Rajapakse clan, then sending Ranil and Sajith home and crushing Namal’s hopes and electing AKD as the president, and finally winning the parliamentary election by a large margin. There is no going back. But the left-over corrupt politicians will try their best and they must be silenced with truth. Not power.

Here are seven things I and most others like to see happen. Sooner the better.
1. Leave the law and order independent of politics and above all
2. Get rid of the corrupt from every sector legally
3. Prevent the corrupt from entering the parliament in the future. Bring new laws on eligibility if you have to
4. Recover any and all stolen assets and punish the guilty
5. Continue to educate the public on the dirty tactics of the opposition and their crimes and also about the progress the government is making despite the opposition obstacles
6. Scrutinize their own NPP politicians. You do not want to give ammunition to the hungry opposition
7. Adopt an evidence-based approach to international and global affairs rather than the ag- old preconceived notions.

At the end of the day, I’m quite confident that AKD and friends will achieve the above, although they may or may not leave any impact on other global affairs such as war.

Now is the chance for President AKD to begin, albeit a bit too late, to achieve the above steps to the satisfaction of the voters. I hope they will show us some good faith efforts by March 2025.

A third culture kid (TCK) is someone who was raised in a culture other than their parents’ or the culture of their place of origin, and also lived in a different environment during a significant part of their childhood development years. My family’s journey exemplifies this: Indian-origin, three generations in Tanzania, then dispersed during African nationalist movements. I grew up in Tanzania and the U.S., with stints in France, Germany, India, the UK, and Dubai.

There isn’t a lot of research into the actual number of TCKs globally though one estimate put it at about 1% of the world population. As with most things, being a TCK has distinct advantages, but can also create challenges.

Those of us who identify as TCKs move between cultures at a time when our identities are being formed. As a result, we tend to be more comfortable engaging with people across lines of difference. We learned early on that our identity was not tied to one specific way of thinking, believing or behaving, so we’re more comfortable letting others show up as who they are without seeing their worldview as a threat to our own sense of self.

The downside of being a TCK can be a sense of rootlessness, a feeling that we don’t quite fit in anywhere. We can find the question “Where are you from?” challenging since we don’t tend to be from just one place.

As a researcher and educator, I have the opportunity to engage with many TCKs. Every time I do, I’m struck by something that feels as though it has eroded in the U.S. over the last few decades, but which is core to our identity as a nation: the ability to hold and manage the complexity of identity in healthy ways.

Interestingly, the TCK experience mirrors the American story in many ways. With the exceptions of Native Americans and enslaved Africans, this country has asked people to do what humans aren’t wired to do: leave their culture, family, and community behind to build a new life here. In essence, America is a nation of TCKs.

The polarization we see in America today feels akin to our nation’s middle school identity crisis. Think back to middle school or of someone you know in middle school now. It’s a time most people don’t look back on fondly because parts of ourselves were suddenly in conflict as we moved into a new phase of identity formation.

When our identities feel destabilized, we have two choices: move through the discomfort, opening ourselves up to new discoveries; or withdraw and isolate ourselves from the unfamiliar. As a nation, we’re in a similar moment of redefinition, grappling with what it means to be American in the 21st century even as heightened social and economic segregation and new technologies allow us to disappear into our bubbles. The question of what it means to be American is also being wielded like a weapon by those who gain by polarizing Americans and turning us against each other.

This is where TCKs have compelling insights to offer. In my conversations with TCKs who acknowledge the challenges of their upbringing but deeply appreciate the skills and mindsets they developed, there are a few big themes and strategies:

1. We craft our own narrative: We remind ourselves that we get to define who we are, choosing what to take or leave from our experiences.

2. Be an anthropologist: We approach experiences not through the lens of who we are, but rather what the experience is and how others understand it.

3. Collect stories: One TCK told me she thought of every person she met as an unread book, assuming there was something valuable to discover in the pages of their interactions.

4. Breathing and learning to calm ourselves: We learn to get our brains out of fight/flight mode when feeling uprooted, allowing us to see that we’re not in danger.

These strategies can help us navigate our national identity crisis more productively. The story of America is, in many ways, the world’s largest Third Culture experiment – a nation constantly in the process of becoming, navigating the space between our origins and our future.

By celebrating Third Culture Kid Day alongside Independence Day, we remind ourselves that America’s true strength lies in our ability to bridge differences, and honor the complex, multifaceted nature of American identity as we recommit to creating a more perfect union.

In 1988, American scholar and activist Peggy McIntosh famously defined white privilege as: “The unquestioned and unearned set of advantages, entitlements, benefits and choices bestowed upon people solely because they are white. Generally, white people who experience such privilege do so without being conscious of it.”

Operating within institutions, policies, and societal norms, white privilege perpetuates racial disparities on interpersonal and systemic levels. These structures, ingrained in globalization, sustain racist mindsets, enabling economic, political, and cultural hierarchies that benefit white communities. Dismantling such systemic privilege is complex as it is deeply embedded in modern societal structures.

White privilege is a concept that extends beyond the borders of the United States and Europe. Recognizing how white privilege operates worldwide is essential for meaningful change within organizations, social structures and communities. Discussions of global governance often omit race. However, it is imprudent to ignore how racist views influence major decisions, including acts of aggression against perceived inferiors and vulnerable communities. Having white privilege and recognizing it is not racist as white privilege exists because of historic, enduring racism and biases.

During the General Assembly’s observance of the International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination on 21 March 2024 United Nations (UN) Secretary-General António Guterres emphasized that, “Racism is an evil infecting countries and societies around the world – a deeply entrenched legacy of colonialism and enslavement. The results are devastating: opportunities stolen; dignity denied; rights violated; lives taken and lives destroyed. Racism is rife, but it impacts communities differently.” He highlighted the persistence of racism globally, stemming from centuries of colonialism, enslavement, and discriminatory practices. 

The establishment of the UN in 1945 occurred during a time when much of the world was under European colonial rule, leading to a dominant influence of colonial and former enslaving powers in its creation. This is reflected in the composition of the UN Security Council (UNSC) that plays a central role in maintaining global peace and security. Particularly, the five permanent members, known as the P5, are the victors of World War II: the United States, United Kingdom, France, Russia, and China. Among them, three are Western nations, and four are majority-White countries, while China is the only non-Western, non-majority-White member. The P5 holds veto power, enabling it to block any significant resolution, regardless of widespread support from other member states. This privileged status originates from the post-World War II era, positioning the P5 members as the primary decision-makers in global security matters.

While the UN, as an international organization, employs a diverse workforce from various countries and backgrounds, white privilege still manifests within the UN system. The composition of staffing within the organizations of the UN system mirrors a pattern as in the UNSC. Among the professional staff in UN organizations, there is a visible disproportionate parity between the West and the rest of the world. Out of five regional groups of the UN member states —  Western European and Other States, African States, Asia-Pacific States, Eastern European States, Latin American and Caribbean States — staff from Western European and Other States (including the United States of America and Canada) constitute more, constitute more than half of the population of professional staff in the UN system. This disparity, directly and indirectly, contributes to the current organizational culture that enables racism and racial discrimination within the UN.

The JIU review on racism and racial discrimination found that staff from predominantly non-white countries in the global South tend to occupy lower-paid positions and wield less decision-making authority compared to their counterparts from predominantly white countries. Personnel identifying as Black/African descent, South Asian, or Middle Eastern/North African face prolonged career advancement timelines, contrasting with quicker progress for those identifying as white. This racial discrimination in seniority and authority has emerged as a macro-structural issue to be addressed. The survey conducted by the UN Asia Network for Diversity and Inclusion (UN-ANDI) on racism and racial discrimination highlighted that discrimination, both subtle and overt, further divides staff from developed and developing nations within the UN, perpetuating notions of superiority and privilege. These dynamics, rooted in historical legacies of slavery and colonialism, impact recruitment, promotion, performance evaluation, and workload distribution within the organization.

Acknowledging white privilege is a crucial step toward addressing racism within the UN. It involves recognizing the inherent advantages that white individuals have due to the color of their skin and understanding that white privilege exists within the UN organizations. This can be achieved by staff those identifying as white through learning, self-reflection, listening to marginalized voices, promoting empathy, challenging the status quo, collaborating with diverse groups, becoming an ally, and advocating for organizational change. While discussions around white privilege may be uncomfortable, the focus should be on implementing structural changes within the organization.

In the collective endeavor to eradicate racism within the UN, acknowledging white privilege stands as a fundamental component of the solution. The UN organizations must develop strategies to utilize white privilege to promote equality and dismantle systemic racism and biases within their institutions. Leveraging white privilege can be a powerful tool in creating a fairer and more just environment within the UN.

The proposed UN Security Council resolution for a Gaza ceasefire was blocked by vetoes from Russia and China, exposing the Council’s systemic deadlock. One would expect the UNSC, with its function to ensure global peace and security, to be the planet’s prime defender of civilians caught in the crossfire of conflict. However, the current crisis in the Middle East proved that strategic interests and the exercise of veto power can, at times, support the very conflicts the Council is meant to prevent. Blocking crucial decisions highlight the need for empowered regional voices to shape their future and maintain their stability.

In a recent UN press release, developing countries demanded a restructured Council that reflects their needs and provides a voice for those historically marginalized in global decision-making forums. This call for inclusion is not just a request but a necessary step towards a more democratic and effective Council, where the diverse challenges and contributions of developing nations are acknowledged. 

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a live example of why it is important to have a diverse and inclusive UNSC. Decades of conflict have led to an international outcry for more representative diplomacy that considers the perspectives of both regional stakeholders and the broader international community. The repeated calls for intervention in the Israeli-Palestinian situation prove the limitation of a Security Council that is not fully reflective of the global population it serves. While Algeria is part of the non-permanent members, the absence of a permanent Middle Eastern member on the Council creates a significant gap, leaving the region without a voice equal to those of the permanent members in the decision-making process on issues that directly affect its peace and stability. This has contributed to a prolonged suffering and loss of innocent lives in areas like Gaza. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict represent the broader argument that without diverse representation, the Security Council risks its legitimacy and effectiveness in global peacekeeping. 

The world is watching day to day news of children being brutally murdered and the UNSC keeps failing to enforce a ceasefire. Growing skepticism towards the UN’s ability to enforce peace is palpable, particularly in prolonged conflicts such as those in Gaza, where ceasefires are fragile and often temporary. The resignation of Craig Mokhiber, the director of the New York Office of UN High Commissioner of Human Rights, amid the war in Gaza is an example that even those within the organization are questioning its efficacy in conflict resolution. This loss of faith from within can lead to a wider impact, diminishing the UN’s authority and its capacity to mobilize a unified international response to enforce peace. 

The veto power within the UNSC extends its reach to matters significantly impacting humanity’s future. Beyond the scope of military conflict, pressing issues such as climate change, hunger, and pandemics require inclusive dialogue and collaborative action. For instance, Ireland and Niger drafted a resolution to elevate climate change as a factor of global security within the UN’ decision-making processes. Despite securing widespread support from council members, the resolution encountered a setback when it was vetoed by Russia. 

This case highlights the need for diverse voices from affected regions and realizing that these voices are not just additions but necessities to establish solutions that are equitable, culturally informed, and resilient. Therefore, the UN’s decision-making must evolve to embody the collective insights and urgent needs of the global community. 

Indeed, the UN has historically played a pivotal role in maintaining global peace, often effectively mediating in times of international crisis. However, in our ever-evolving world, it’s apparent that a more nuanced approach is required to navigate today’s complex issues, from climate change to regional conflicts.

The Security Council’s veto power and lack of diverse representation are more than procedural shortcomings; they are fundamental obstacles to addressing the complex challenges of our time. A reformed Council, one that mirrors the diversity of its member states and limits the unilateral exercise of veto, is an urgent necessity. Only then, people will regain hope that this historical institution will be capable to foster peace and security in the world. 

The romantic notion I now have of my village is that it was simple then. People went to bed at 7 PM as there was no electricity. The last bus passed the village at 7 PM. We studied using oil lamps and wiped the black soot from our noses in the morning that emanated from the kerosene lamp with faulty oxygen supply during the night. The native healer treated all ailments free of charge but the villagers paid him with their produce. An egg, some veggies, a coconut or two, you name it. The school teachers led exemplary lives. The village priest and the local politician were decent and educated people. The villagers helped each other at troubled times and or at busy times such as changing the old roof covers or bringing the harvest in.  Neighbors disciplined the kids and the parents thanked them. I watched my society change over time as it is inevitable.  Then I migrated to the U.S. in the late Eighties.  

Over the years, I saw that the village priest and the local politician becoming the biggest crooks. Healers gave faked medicine to make a buck. The Minister of Health and his secretaries are still in jail for alleged involvement in the procurement of counterfeit intravenous human immunoglobulin, which is used to help fight infections and cancer.

A man who is considered to be a former gold chain snatcher in public trains, (a claim that he has denied) was elected in March 2024 as the chairman of the Committee on Public Enterprises, a key parliamentary committee to fight corruption.  Teachers do not teach much in the school but teach the same kids for money after work and on weekends and holidays. Everyone is for themselves.  Yes, the village is now divided.  As the ancient Greeks said, we have more idiots and tribesmen, than the citizens. 

The factors that changed the Sri Lankan society over time, as I see, are several.  

1. Historical and cultural influences such as migration of people from neighboring countries and the arrival of major religions; 
2. Colonialism and foreign influence by the European invaders and then the economic invasion by China; 
3. Religious and ethnic tensions created by the local politicians; 
4. Civil War and the reconciliation came out of the above; 
5. Large-scale corruption and the decline of morality in the religious and civil order; 
6. Globalization and modernization (i.e., internet and social media); 
7. Economic factors such as the crisis brought through the widespread corruption; and 
8. Educational system that does not address the local needs.

As we are facing elections in both Sri Lanka and in America, I asked a good American friend (Dave Kerr) of the same age what he thought had changed American society in the wrong direction. He has been to Sri Lanka in the Seventies and he said the following:

‘I would say the reasons the US has changed for the worse over time include most of the same ultimately detrimental influences that you have outlined in Sri Lanka, although they may have affected the US in different ways or by different mechanisms than in other countries. Some changes that have affected the U.S. more than others include:

1. IMMIGRATION: The influx of large groups of migrants — both legal and illegal — from very different cultures and moral backgrounds has had both positive and negative effects on the moral foundation of the country. Immigration literally built the US, and generation after generation of migrants have integrated successfully into American life. In recent decades, however, there has been a sizable influx of immigrants that have not integrated well, establishing homogenous enclaves that held themselves culturally separate from American melting-pot culture, often openly rejecting the morality and societal belief systems that millions of Americans have adopted over the years. The very nature of America and her morality is based on the peaceful integration of many different kinds of people into one unified whole. The arrival of groups of individuals who reject American morality but still choose to migrate here — often choosing to demean or destroy the things that Americans cherish — has had a significant detrimental effect on our society.
2. IDENTITY GROUP TENSIONS: Religious, sexual/gender, ideological, and ethnic tensions created by the media, politicians, and a very aggressive activist and lobbyist class. We’re far from a perfect society, but there is a growing and very vocal group of people and organizations that exist to promote grievances of every possible kind. Politicians and most media thrive on these grievances, pushing them front and center of every political campaign and media story. A culture of victimization has bloomed from these heavily promoted grievances, convincing large swathes of the population that racial, sexual, ideological, or religious victimization is the reason they have problems or lack the kind of success they feel they’d like. This not only degrades the morality of a country that was built on principles of equality and opportunity, but it can destroy the motivation and resilience of people living in a country where self-starting and individual responsibility are the true pathways to success. Instead of overcoming obstacles and persevering through headwinds, the constant refrain of victimization can understandably cause some people to believe the American Dream has been unfairly denied them because of characteristics they have no control over, and morality suffers when you are told over and over again that your country as a racist, sexist or ideological nightmare that will never let you succeed.
3. GLOBALIZATION & MODERNIZATION (particularly the internet and social media): While there are universal moral guidelines that most of humanity has embraced, including things like murder and child abuse, much of our morality is a local — or at most national — construct. Different groupings of people naturally have different beliefs, organizational structures, and religions, and they therefore develop different morality. Globalization tends to throw all those different local and national identities and moralities together as part of a single global entity, which by nature minimizes regional differences by throwing different cultures into potentially profitable contact with each other.
4. But modernization — particularly the internet and social media — has changed the social fabric of all modern societies more than almost any other factor. Not only does it throw different people into direct personal contact with other people around the world who hold dramatically different belief and morality systems, but it is designed to make those interactions addictive and self-perpetuating. In addition to exposure to knowledge, positive human interactions, and inspirational writings, in a shockingly short amount of time, the internet has made it incredibly easy for anyone of any age to get access to a wide variety of harmful ideas, pornographic images, and situations, and a drastically different morality than they have been raised with. Worse, the internet and social media are where predators and people of ill will tend to hunt, and their very presence has a negative effect on morality.
5. EDUCATION: The American educational system has largely failed to educate and promote our historical morals to our youth. In many cases, education has become indoctrination, some mild and some quite aggressive, and over time it has attracted more and more educators — and particularly administrators — who are focused on indoctrination more than on education. This fire hose of contrary indoctrination causes our youth to be angry, divisive, dissatisfied, anxious, depressed, detached from the principles that make the country free and successful, and totally unprepared to compete with people educated in countries that focus on actual learning (i.e. Japan, China). Today, American students are largely unable to read or do math at their own grade level, and a plurality of high school graduates in large swaths of the country can barely read, write, or do math at an elementary school level. Schools in many areas are actively usurping parents’ ability to influence the morality of their children, which interferes with the social contract that has been effective for centuries all over the world. History, Civics, and Citizenship are either taught poorly, negatively or not at all, which can make an angry, divisive youth both ignorant and disconnected as well. Protests by educated, informed individuals are protests. Protests by ignorant, uneducated individuals is a mob, and the January 6th Capitol Riots and the Summer of Antifa and BLM riots are both horrifying examples of this disastrous, accelerating trend, by their very nature a collapse of morality and American social values.
6. TRUST IN INSTITUTIONS: These and other issues have caused a near-total collapse of trust in every major institution, including religion, government, media, technology, and education/ colleges. Most of that distrust has been well-earned, as too many public institutions have been poorly run, lacking in any sense of duty to the public good, and rife with corruption and ideology. Without trustworthy institutions to act as the skeletal infrastructure of morality for the country, the population becomes cynical, lacking in belief, and disassociated from the things in society that bring people together. Without trusted institutions, people become focused solely on themselves and their immediate family, and a focus solely on the self has historically been considered immoral in and of itself. Instead of a country of 300 million people aligned in common affiliation with America and her institutions, we are becoming a country of 300 million siloed individuals lined up in opposition to other Americans and most American institutions, working solely towards their own selfish needs and guided by 300 million different moralities.

In other words, I see the decline of our countries — and most other relatively free states– to be caused by the same factors that are happening everywhere, on a global scale, although it progresses (or declines, actually) at a slightly different pace in each given country. While ideology certainly plays a part, it is more due to all the other factors listed above, and the different ideologies just tend to align themselves in arbitrary opposition to each other in each of those factors.

Do I have hope we can return to the simpler, more moral societies we had in the past, without also reviving the immoralities that even those eras labored under (ie racism/slavery, social caste systems that allowed the powerful to take advantage of the less powerful)? No, that is probably a forlorn hope. We can’t put the toothpaste back into the tube: technological advances have changed the way humanity learns, interacts, politics, entertains themselves, and experiences sexuality, and those things are changed forever.

Also, we struggle with racial/ethnic politics that refuse to be resolved and disarmed; the gradual dominance of most of our institutions by the left, many of which used to be imperfectly dominated by the right years ago; and the effect of globalism that has undermined — and often openly wants to obliterate — the concept of small gatherings of humans living under their own morality, operating a small local economy loosely affiliated with the larger regional and national economy.

The more globalized the world gets, the more we all share the same information, technology, morality, and economy, and the more homogenous the nations, institutions, and people of the world become. Theoretically, that could benefit countries that weren’t doing so well, but it brings down the most unique and successful countries that no longer have the unique identity and morality that made them successful.

The end game of this progression into globalism — i.e. one world government — is already being devised and openly talked about in centers of global power such as Davos, the WEF, the WHO, and the UN. Our simple, relatively moral small towns are probably gone forever. Sadly, our distinct national identities are heading in the same direction.

I believe our best hope is what I’m calling “benign nationalism” — the unwillingness to let go of the things that make our countries, regions, and towns different from other places, while at the same time accepting and even celebrating those cultures, nations and peoples who are different — without the expectation that importing millions of those very different peoples into our own unique, benign culture will naturally make them drop their own beliefs and morals and assume ours.

That simply has not been happening often in today’s world, and many countries are harming themselves trying to prove that it still CAN happen. Nationalism has had an occasional history of turning into something that is far from benign, and what I’m calling “benign nationalism” is so little like those systems that I’m sure we need to find a name for it that doesn’t include the loaded word “nationalism.”

For instance, I think every healthy country needs robust immigration, with policies that benefit the country first, but that can also benefit those with genuine need and equally benign intent. Perhaps this too is a forlorn hope. But I applaud any effort to slow or stop the slide into moral bankruptcy, widespread corruption that is fully integrated into all our institutions and economic systems, and the globalized homogeneity of a world government.

And those efforts can only start at home, with neighbors and local government, education, religion, and media. Benign nationalism isn’t a weapon to be wielded against those who believe different things. It is a virus that infects people of goodwill in every country, providing a small example of a better way to do things that gradually infects other people of goodwill, until the entire organism of the state is infected with goodwill and a belief in the things that make that particular gathering of humans unique, effective and moral.

And it can’t be organized; it can only happen organically from the bottom up unless we are blessed with an impossibly rare appearance of a truly moral, inspiring leader who can act as a signpost for the populace. But let’s be honest — it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen in our lifetime.

The quality of our leaders in recent decades makes the appearance of a truly inspiring, moral leader unimaginable, at least one that the whole country can support. They either don’t exist in today’s world, or they refuse to subject themselves to the gauntlet of horrors that is our modern political process, or the lousy leaders we have in most governments and institutions of power and influence make sure no one of high morals and inspirational talent ever gets close to a position of power.

So, in summary — yeah, we’re all pretty much screwed. But no matter how bad it gets, I can’t help but live in the pale light of hope’.

Dave’s analysis of American society begs us to deep dive into what exactly happened in Sri Lanka.  I invite people who are more informed in these areas to share their thoughts. 

Dave Kerr is a retired Media Executive who has visited Sri Lanka.

The UN was founded in the aftermath of World War II to prevent the recurrence of such catastrophic events, with a commitment to “reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights, the dignity, and worth of the human person” and, proclaiming “the right of everyone to enjoy all human rights and fundamental freedoms, without distinction as to race, sex, language or religion.”

Marking International Day on Eliminating Racial Discrimination on March 21, 2023, the UN Secretary-General António Guterres said, “Racial discrimination is a deeply damaging and pervasive abuse of human rights and human dignity that affects every country. It is one of the most destructive forces dividing societies, responsible for death and suffering on a grotesque scale throughout history. Today, racial discrimination and the legacies of enslavement and colonialism continue to ruin lives, marginalize communities and limit opportunities, preventing billions of people from achieving their full potential.”

There are visible contradictions in how the UN addresses racism and racial discrimination that go against the stipulations of the UN Charter. Some of this is attributable to systemic issues that date back to the founding of the UN.

The UN was established in 1945 as a solution for countries of European descent as they looked for a stable new international (and European) order. At that time, most parts of the world remained under European colonial domination, so the creation of the UN was led by those colonial and former enslaving powers. The wave of decolonization between 1945 and 1960 changed the face of the world order as well as the World Body. The membership of the UN grew from 51 founding members in 1945 to 127 by 1970, and currently there are 193 member states. This aspect contributed towards altering the balance of power within the UN. These new member states were not from Europe and not white. These new members persuaded  the UN to embrace the change in the world order and brought new ideas to the General Assembly, the main deliberative body of the UN, which now practices the noble principle of “One Nation One Vote” and with five Regional Groups  of member states – Africa, Asia – Pacific, Eastern Europe, Latin America and the Caribbean, and Western Europe (including North America). However, a similar transformation did not take place within the staffing of the organizations of the UN system.

In UN organizations, the staff experience or witness workplace discrimination largely on the basis of national origin, race, or skin color, according to the findings of several recent surveys. Most mentioned their lack of trust and confidence in the system, including existing recourse mechanisms and believed that the organization would offer no recourse if they complained about the racism they experienced.

The JIU review on racism and racial discrimination confirms that racism and racial discrimination are widespread throughout the system and the magnitude is high, based on evidence of prevalence, form, and effects of racism and racial discrimination. It further revealed that the “likelihood of experiencing racism and racial discrimination is higher” among black/African descent, Indigenous, South Asian and Middle Eastern/North African respondents.

The review of the JIU found that one in every five surveyed respondents (20 per cent) had experienced racial discrimination or harassment while the 2020 UN Secretariat survey on racism found that one in every three respondents (33 per cent) had experienced discrimination. The recently released findings of the survey conducted by the UN Asia Network for Diversity and Inclusion (UN-ANDI) revealed that three in every five respondents (61 per cent) experienced racism and bias, as well as the distress caused to them in terms of health, career and well-being.

More than half of the staff in the Professional and higher categories in the UN organizations are from Western countries or European descent. Hence, there is disproportionate representation among the five regional groupings. This disparity, directly and indirectly, contributes to the current organizational culture that enables racism and racial discrimination. All organizations in the UN system should implement measures to reduce the proportion of the most highly represented regional groups and to increase the proportion of less represented regional groups, thereby reducing the overall imbalance among regional groups and making the UN organizations more representative of the populations they serve, including at decision-making levels.

Tackling systemic racism and racial discrimination within the UN system is not only an ethical issue but also a business issue. Racism and racial discrimination cause significant financial losses for all parties. Staff members suffer from loss of income, health, morale, enthusiasm and job satisfaction during their career span, while organizations suffer in terms of loss of time, resources, talent, committed staff, quality of work, timely delivery, productivity and reputation, among others. It is therefore important to assess the tangible impacts of racism, in monetary terms, on staff, organizations and their capacities for programme delivery, especially the implementation of the Sustainable Development Goals. Such an exercise is critical if the UN organizations are genuinely committed to eliminating racism within.

The world urgently needs the UN leadership to fight systemic racism. Hence, the organizations of the UN system do not have time to spend another year on internal discussions and dialogues. Immediate implementation of the Secretary-General’s Strategic Action Plan on Addressing Racism and Promoting Dignity for All in the UN Secretariat would be a starting point, and similar action plans should follow urgently in all other UN organizations. The time is now for the UN to act to fully eradicate racism and racial discrimination within its organizations.

Mr. Sarani, our hospital’s 70-ishold security guard, is pulling out strands of details of the sounds we are hearing from his wriggled memory threads over the years of living at the borderline: “This is the sound of a sniper,” he says. “This one is the sound of a mortar bomb, this one is a machine gun.”  I’m mixing them with scenes I have collected from the news and movies

There is a surprisingly strong instinct to learn the war rules quickly. The rockets vibrate under your feet, and the mortar bombs rumble from a further distance than they really are. The sniper shots echo around your head, making it hard to say where it’s coming from.

We have all gathered in the hospital’s yard, and I stay as close as possible to Mr. Sarani as if he has a transcendent understanding of what is happening. “Nothing’s going to happen to us, doctor!” He says. I immediately accept this as fact. I keep making excuses, asking the same questions over and over again, so that he repeats the same sentence over again and again: “Nothing’s going to happen to us”.

It’s 1:30 am. We are standing closer than usual to each other, the guards, nurses, doctors, and all the hospital’s crew. We are listening, a new kind of listening, as if every fragment of information might save your life. We watch the trace of the rockets in the dark sky, turn away from the wall to the stars, and look back again with the next rocket’s light.

“Every sound you hear might be people dying,”I repeat in my head.

“Hush,” I respond to myself.

The moon is an orange, narrow, delicate crescent. “The night of the new moon is the best time to attack,” my colleague whispers. Her father told her that once. He had fought in the Iran-Iraq war. “No eye can see another.”

I didn’t know there were guns when the sounds started and kept me awake between my two-night shifts hours ago. Now I know, and everything has changed. I had called my colleague at the hospital when the weird sounds shaking the windows were not calming down.

“Grab your stuff and come out of the building now! We are coming for you,” she screamed between sobbing out loud.

Before I could ask anything else, she hung up. I spontaneously thought to grab some food but then started packing my books and notebooks without understanding what I am doing. “You are not even in the war; this is just the sound; you are not in the war,” I kept telling myself. But my mind was playing tricks on me, patching every piece of movie, song, and story, in a sloppy way, it all came to the same conclusion: something horrible is happening soon.

We’ve lost track of the time. It’s another hour and then two and three, huddling together, the guards, nurses, doctors, and all the hospital’s crew. The sounds are turning down and less frequent. “They must have taken over the Afghan’s guard tower right there,” Mr. Sarani says, pointing his finger to a part of darkness I can’t tell from the darkness around it. He meant Taliban by “they.” We had heard rumors that they were moving to the south days ago.

-What will happen next?

-Don’t worry, doctor! Nothing will happen to us!

I accept it immediately. It’s 4 am. My next shift starts at 7. The dawn is near, and the shootings are scattered. Mr. Sarani walks me to where I was sleeping between shifts on the other side of the hospital’s yard. My head touches the pillow, and I fall asleep.

My shift starts the next morning. It’s chaos.

2.

Wars have a reported narration, the ones we see in the news outlets, the story II knew of war till that day. And wars have a local narration, pieces of news, rumors, guesses, memories, and unconscious history floating from chest to chest. Like pieces of a giant puzzle scattered around. Pieces each person carries at an extended radius from the war. Shrapnel shells, who walk and talk: An old man leaning on his cane and saying: “Our house is farther than the hospital, but we didn’t sleep till morning too, it was bad…the worst in the past ten years that I can remember…now, listen doctor, I came to you for this tingling feeling in my throat; we call it Khar-Khar; I don’t know what you call it at home.”

The local narration of the war is the status in which nobody can talk about anything else but the fall of Afghanistan. I am pulling a small piece of chopped wood from one of the soldiers’ foot sole: “Did this happen last night? Were you there?”

War is the urgent need to ask every person crossing the hospital’s corridors, militant or not: “Will it happen again?” And it’s the irresistible need to answer: “Of course not! I mean…probably not.”

War is this feeling of not ever really knowing anything and an obsessive desire to act as if life is going on as usual, as if you know everything. One of the higher-ranked commanders has been watching me asking the same questions from all his soldiers. He giggles and pulls me to a side: “Hey, doc! We can’t really tell, but regardless, you’ll soon get used to it.” I feel nauseated from the words “getting used to.” A sizzling flow of words crosses my mind: “People are dead! They say 25; I know it’s much more, with the sounds we listened to last night! How are you not ashamed of getting used to it? How can you laugh? Where is your shame?” Instead, I just mumble: “Should we be worried too?” – “Not at all! The war is on their side. You’ll just hear the shootings.” I go silent. He’s right. I will get used to it. And every time the sizzling flow of words passes through me, I will ask: What about us? And I will feel calmer when I am sure we will stay safe. A pathetic shameful relief covering everything else.

In a recorded interview with a farmer in Poland in 1943, close to a Nazi concentration camp. They asked him: “How did you work while hearing all those screams and horrible cries?” – “At first, it was unbearable, but you’ll get used to it,” he replied.

I have written reports on the Afghan soldiers seeking help at our border in the morning. They brought them behind a truck. I note that a bullet has entered one side of the flank and passed through the other. I don’t know how to describe this more professionally. I have never seen bullets in bodies. We send them to the nearest city where they have operating rooms and surgeons. We don’t have them. In the evening, one nurse says one of them stayed alive. The night shift nurse says he didn’t make it. He is not counted among the 25 deaths from last night. Dozens and dozens are not counted among the 25.

3.

I guess the case is a histrionic patient from the sounds before seeing her. I can barely tolerate her screams. It’s been almost 36 hours without sleep, and I’m exhausted. My ears are sharpened to any similar sound to shooting from sunset. I go by the bed. It’s an Afghan mother and son. The mother is staring somewhere in the blank, crying out loud, screaming, passing out, waking, and crying again. The boy keeps mumbling: “Mother, Mother Jaan (dear mother),” and nothing more. He’s also confused and absentminded.

– What happened?

– We escaped through the border.

–  From last night?

–  Yes, Taliban came.

The nurse and I exchange looks. The mother tries to get up from the bed, as if trying to warn everyone around her, she screams: “It’s war, oh dear god, it’s war!”

There is fire, blood, guns, and everything in her eyes, the black sky and the war, all evil of the world which a room can’t hold. A whole world can’t hold. The boy repeatedly regurgitates the exact words while keeping her on the bed. Her legs are still struggling to move, to run, to escape. I order some sedatives. She suddenly starts shouting a name: “Mojtaba. ” And from that point, she keeps screaming: “Mojtaba.” as if she has suddenly remembered something. I ask the boy:

–  Are you Mojtaba?

– No, he’s my brother; we lost him while running.

– How old is he?

– Eight.

– Do you know if he crossed the border?

– No, we lost our sister too.

The nurse compulsively murmurs: “Is she a virgin?” I turn my look on her with a scowl, and she looks back apologetically. She’s thinking of the Taliban raping women and children upon entering every village. They say they are the worst with the young girls.

 – Yes, she is.

By now, we are all around the boy and the mother, the guards, nurses, all the crew, and the other patients’ companions, like last night. The war doesn’t need rockets to continue. Other patients have forgotten why they had come there themselves, and they are following the boy and the mother, leaning forward on their beds. I order more sedatives.

She sits on the bed and sobs. I sob, too, struggling to stay soundless. So does the nurse. I turn to the boy:

–  Is there a phone you might call and find Mojataba?

–  I don’t know, maybe, I don’t have one.

–  Let’s try.

I give him my phone. His hands are shaking when dialing. It’s like his brain has suddenly started working; he walks back and forth and calls from one number to another. We’re all following him, except for the mother, who seems to be somewhere else, detached from all conversations. At last, the boy cries, “Mojtaba.” We hold our breaths. He says something quickly and hangs up with tears on his face.

– Did you find Mojtaba?

– Yes, he has crossed the border; he’s with some relatives.

The nurse runs to the other side of the hospital to tell everyone else. Patients congratulate him. It’s just Mojtaba’s mother who doesn’t believe this, still crying and warning us that the war has come. Until she falls asleep under the sedatives.

War is also the patient who leaves his bed and tells the boy: “Brother, do you want to stay with us tonight?” One patient’s companion approaches: “I can bring food from home for you and your mother.” Another one tries to comfort the boy: “Maybe they won’t harm ordinary people? “

“No, they kill. ” And points his finger to his neck.

I wake up to my phone ringing in the morning. It’s a girl.

– Hello, are my mother and brother there?

– Are you the sister? Are you ok?

– Yes, I crossed the border too. I’m in Iran. Are they healthy?

– Yes, they are both healthy. We found Mojtaba, but they left the hospital earlier.

– Oh, you found Mojtaba?

– Yes, he’s safe.

–  Will you call me if they come back to the hospital?

–  I promise.

War is humans torn into pieces, pieces of their own bodies or their loved ones’ bodies. It’s particles of life and soul, scattered with bombs whether they hit the bodies or not. If they are too lucky, parts of them may one day come together again, or get closer. War is dirt, pus, money, and politics. And evil, the evil of all the world in seconds. So much of it, I can’t understand how it can be contained by one soul, by all human souls together.

4.

– Could you tell us what does these actions mean?

– Well…I can tell it’s pretty horrible!

-Let’s first watch the video our colleagues have just received.

Men sit around big red circle tables in a room under bright white lights, breaking the red blood circles on the screen into more comprehensive pieces for their audience: “breaking news”. They look excited, almost proud, to be the first ones to show a new pile of dead people: We hadn’t seen bodies under rubbles from this angle of view. They blur the blood puddles on the gray asphalts. It doesn’t make it go away, it just magnifies it.

Every minute of this gathering around the red table in the studio, around all tables in the world, the high level policy making tables behind closed doors and low level coffee tables in front of open ones, lights are leaving eyes and lives are leaving bodies. Living bodies are left with the coldest shivering sense, if any sense left, if remained among the living in the following hours, or days. These are not written drama, it’s the statistics in the news ticker in words.

As I write today, the flames of war in Gaza are raging. There is a sudden realization of how several things can be true simultaneously and how civilians don’t deserve this torrent of media reports. I remember the same sentences about many other conflicts on news broadcasts, still ongoing, almost forgotten.

As I am writing today, 32 countries are in conflict, ranging from civil wars, terrorist insurgency, ethnic violence, and official wars. I am no expert, but I no longer need numbers of dead and injured to hear the cracking sound of souls crushing and remember eyes I don’t dare to look at and children’s faces. I don’t need to read the details of brutalities to feel the expansion of pain possessing the souls, the lands, and the skies.

Prior to this visit to NZ, I was in Sri Lanka, another pretty island where I was born. That is a different kind of a beauty. Sri Lanka is generally considered to be free of volcanoes for thousands of years. Its major geological activity involving separating lowlands and the hill country is believed to have occurred about 600 to 800 million years ago. Two billion years ago, the piece of land that now makes up north central Sri Lanka had several active volcanoes. Though most of these ancient features have been worn away, their remnants persist in the form of towering pillars of rock that soar above the surrounding plain.

My native land, a tiny little island with lush green vistas, is a paradise. But a paradise stolen. The volcanoes there are the racist people who erupt at the command of corrupt leaders and rogue priests. Sri Lanka is pretty but rotten. Most people there are selfish, shortsighted, and borderline stupid when it comes to politics. They have been picking the wrong leaders since independence in 1948 from the Brits. The country is broke. They had to go to the IMF 17 times. People suffer while the rulers and the corrupt priests are bathing in luxury. Even the newborns owe thousands of dollars they did not borrow. Educated and the talented are leaving the country. The global powers are eyeing the island because it is strategically placed in a major naval route. 

On Sep 5th, 2023, Britain’s Channel 4 aired a documentary “Sri Lanka’s Easter Bombings – Dispatches,” that gave new information provided by highly-placed whistleblowers, implicating government officials in potential complicity in the attacks that killed both locals and foreigners to gain political upper hand by the Rajapaksa clan. 

After New Zealand, I visited Fiji. Brits have done the same thing to them that they did to us – giving the religion and taking the land. An island that is bigger in width than ours (604 miles wide) but with less than 1 million people, poverty in Fiji is prevalent. Diet is heavy in starches. Crimes are rampant, and I was asked not to walk back from the Uni to the hotel. But there is racial harmony in Fiji, something that is rare in Sri Lanka. Fiji Indians, iTaukeis, and others mostly live in harmony. 

Wake up, Sri Lanka! You live in a paradise that is stolen. Punish the thieves who stole it from you and your children. Look around. They are still in power despite hard evidence of corruption, theft, and even murder. You might elect them again when and if you have another election. Reclaim your country, my fellow Sri Lankans, and make it better. You can do it.