Columns

In the good old days when my Peradeniya University colleague Thalif Deen and I sought refuge at Lake House—I, a couple of months ahead of Dino, as we called him then—it was in hope that the roots of journalism would penetrate us as quickly and deeply as those who sat there around us on the Observer.

It was an active engagement, with even our editors chasing us out of the office in search of the great stories and what they called a “scoop”.

Some years later we parted to different parts of the world—Dino eventually taking root in New York in the ‘spy business’, as we called it, from where he would send us some spicy copy on doings in New York, the headquarters of the United Nations, from where tonnes of gibberish poured out of trash cans that would have required several visits to Colombo’s Meethotamulla to clean up the disposable diplomatic thought.

Anyway, there was Dino churning out the stories, at times even spicier than Press Club Simeon’s chilli sauce that drove prospective journalists out of our regular watering holes.

It had been one of our old habits to exchange missives from wherever we were to show each other we were still professionally alert, especially those with a sense of humour to keep each other amused.

When news of impending debates, motions and even nastiness against Sri Lanka was on the cards, a tip would appear from dear Dino alerting me to what was coming and what the state of the pitch in New York was (though I cannot remember Dino ever playing cricket), even if I had seen some university students fly over the ropes of the ring in the days of fisticuffs.

So when there was a deathly silence from the Big Apple, as though President Trump had grabbed that part of the territory too to plant his tariffs as well, it seemed to some that Thalif Deen, the Governor of Midtown Manhattan, had decided to take a break after 40 years or break Trump himself.

Whatever it was, Dino’s silence did not spell well either for our journalistic community or those who enjoyed Dino’s pages of laughter that he produced not too long ago titled “Don’t Quote Me”.

That would be the last thing I would do. I’d keep them carefully buried, as it were, like an Egyptian pharaoh before Trump tried to exchange them for his cussed tariffs on the steps of the General Assembly and break his legs a couple of years ago as I did at the BIA, leaving both of us without legs to stand on.

I was about to write a rather nasty epistle to my Staten Island friend, who hardly fails to write to me his comments on the upcoming UNGA sessions each year for my annual delectation instead of silly cards, when Thalif’s latest diplomatic jokes, stories and fairytales did turn up to my sheer pleasure.

It might well be that the two of us do not have a leg each to stand on to sit down and put down our own thoughts, but we sure would want to do so in this important year.

Many might wonder why I (and some others like me) appear more excited this year than usual. Why not? After all, how often have we had a leader of our country march to the world stage and utter words that they would rarely say except before his own people?

So when I heard that President Anura Kumara Dissanayake had picked up his diplomatic passport and told his faithful foreign minister to pick up his own and announce to the world that they would bring their own big apple, I could sense trouble in the air, and so did my confrere, who has lived next to the UN for nearly half a century, very carefully weighing the beans and placing his bets.

Now don’t think of a wiretap to gather from where he is gathering all the info because he is long past that.

Remember, it was not long ago that he and his comrades tamed the mighty International Monetary Fund (IMF) that had said it would not bend or mend to some very, very petit bourgeois leaders.

There would have been, and there would still be, later leaders from other nations that have entertained similar ambitions. If there are such Trumps around, we might well wish that our sea and maritime borders were quite secure, whether they be near or far, whether they come as friend today and foe tomorrow.

Those who have not followed the thoughts of AKD over the recent year or more seem to have misconstrued his intentions. From the early days we kept our eyes glued to the table tops. I am sure our ace journalistic sleuth did the same.

So when we picked up the batons and all that, it was clear where Sri Lanka was heading was beyond what the world over tik-tok. Two things are on the cards, and our masterminds, who cannot make it to the UNGA, better concentrate on two issues that will shake the assembly rafters.

The first is what the NPP-led Sri Lanka thinks of the current state of affairs where the division is sharp. It has been said in some circles that our new governing circle has an interesting stance on all this.

The NPP, or whoever runs the show at home, thinks that we should go for a two-state solution with an Israel-Palestine division. But then we hear of another move by the clever Sri Lankan political military thinkers, some of whom have had experience warring in any terrain.

So the double digit of the Sri Lanka solution, from what I hear from the NPP thinkers, is the strategy to strongly support a two-state solution that will go along with international pressure.

Stage two of that solution is to release a new Palestine population, and before they are settled in their new homeland, do what the Israeli militia have often done and continue to do today, wipe out that population, which is a nice solution, as they say.

And if the UN Human Rights chaps come hollering about human rights, shout back louder than they have done before.

(Neville de Silva is a veteran Sri Lankan journalist who was Assistant Editor of the Hong Kong Standard and worked for Gemini News Service in London. Later, he was Deputy Chief of Mission in Bangkok and Deputy High Commissioner in London.)