A banquet of consequences

Now, without lights, without cooking gas, without petrol in the car and without money in the pocket, this unfortunate nation has to sit down to a banquet of consequences – Pic by Shehan Gunasekara 

“Sooner or later, everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences” – Robert Louis Stevenson

It seems, what is true of an individual, is true of the collective.

All the dishes were long in preparation for the nightmare banquet; a nation living beyond its means; greed, corruption, waste, incompetence; a self-serving political culture, huge prestige projects with no/low returns, defence as the largest budget expenditure. The inedible menu is explained away with asinine platitudes, nonchalantly adopted as self-evident truths by an open-mouthed public; ‘a nation’s primary concern is security’, ‘most of Indian Ocean maritime traffic will come to Hambantota’, ‘we need a national airline to promote tourism’. True, yet untrue! Where is the security today? Where are the tourists today? Where are the ships in Hambantota?

The table was laden with the bitter fare, only waiting for the dinner gong.

When the COVID-19 pandemic broke upon the world in early 2020, the gong finally rang. The effect was global, nearly all countries in the world, unprepared for a pandemic of this magnitude, went into crisis mode. Like in everything else, when facing a large challenge, rationality and resources are paramount. Some countries, better endowed, coped better than the others. For countries skating on thin ice, those partying with borrowed money and the lotus eaters; the ice cracked sooner than expected.

At first, the Government was facetious, unable to comprehend the menace, dismissed the danger the pandemic carried. Eventually, when the truth became evident, they panicked, now reacting precipitously, closing down the entire country for weeks on end. Needless to say, every country is different, faces different realities, possesses different strengths and is burdened with different weaknesses. A method that works for one country, may ruin the other. The accepted vaccination protocol called for a booster, typically, somebody forgot to obtain the follow-up shot in time. For those at the top of the pyramid however, there was no anxious waiting for the booster, he who holds the spoon will eat first! At the end of the day, Sri Lanka did no better or worse than most countries. The sticker of mediocrity, seems permanently fixed to its flagpole.

The gong heard around the world, announced the bitter banquet. 

Since 1948, a loud, garish drama had been enacted under our burning tropical sun, full of sound and fury; several constitutions, insurrections, civil wars, referendums, grand launchers, hysterical speeches: signifying nothing. Several neighbouring countries, gaining independence much later, starting with much less, dealing with much more complex problems, have marched on, progressing steadily, now knocking on the door of Developed Country status. Our drama on the other hand, has no discernible theme; sometimes it is a comedy, then a tragedy, often both. If a theme must be found; ‘being cheap is good’, ‘having no principles is empowering’, ‘making money is everything’, ‘inefficiency is so bonding’ or ‘foolishness is freedom’, suggest themselves.

Although, per square mile the country population is relatively large, the number of actors on our public stage is remarkably small, perhaps two dozen families, with a few thousand supporting cast. Either the nation is extremely poor in leadership skills, or, culturally so damaged that they can only perceive of political leadership through a bloodline. In our philosophy, a doctor’s son is a natural doctor (a common occurrence in native medicine), a journalist’s son is born to write – ink flows in his veins! Never mind that in every performance index we rank poorly, every country overtakes us, everyone beats us, but, we insist that our way of thinking, is good thinking!

When the British left our shores in 1948, they left behind many institutions of governance which we continue to enjoy. Having no claim to any of the ideas that underpin these institutions, and, having played no role whatever in the evolution of vital institutions like the parliament, legal system, administrative structures and political parties, our leaders viewed these novel institutions through unfamiliar eyes. Historically, our experiences in the exercise of power have been vastly different, something is to be abused. The feudal elite, while extracting the little surplus that the primitive economy produced, crushed both the mind and soul of the people. It was an endless cycle, more crushed and more hopeless, more fatalistic they became, this is the only life possible!

Our post-independence leaders may have read something of the parliamentary concepts and methods, but seem to have interpreted them differently, unable to relate to the spirit and substance of these institutions, or understanding them only imperfectly. Had they understood the concepts correctly, they would have realised that in a democracy, there are many things you would not do, even if you could!

Politics as a caste function or a family business was more readily appreciated, an occupation that can easily be passed onto your kith and kin, legitimised by the fact of their blood. Our very first Prime Minister D.S. Senanayake was succeeded by his son Dudley Senanayake. The old man had manoeuvred the move, the culture blessed the family succession. His political party, the UNP, was so shot through with family connections that it came to be referred to as the ‘uncle, nephew’ party. 

In that era, the main opposition to the UNP came from Bandaranaike’s SLFP, which made family leadership a motif, his wife for more than three decades (Prime Minister several times, on the last occasions a barely coherent invalid) and then his daughter, through two presidential terms, leading the party in succession. While at it, they did not deny their children any privilege, including a foreign education, eventually their progeny jettisoning Sri Lanka for foreign residence. They also had the temerity to name large public projects in each other’s names, including our main international airport, without any relevance! 

The Bandaranaike chain was broken only because of the abysmal performance of the daughter (Chandrika’s presidential years have been called the lost years) and that there were no other credible family members to take over the mantle. 

To a person enjoying the caste status of political leadership, life is most agreeable. The political authority decides his own emoluments, he is most generous here; cars, bungalows, telephones and servants. His ‘duties’ are pleasant, ego soothing; decision maker (where shall we place this airport? Should this road go north or south? More importantly, who wins the tender for the work? Should I attend this conference in Bangkok or read a speech in Brussels?) chief guest at various events, VIP lounges, business class travel, plush hotels, a huge security retinue and such like. 

Unable to deliver, the man becomes increasingly abstract, a chimera like persona is invented; how often we hear of a leader’s golden tongue, golden brain, seven brains, an encyclopaedic mind, ‘ability’ to speak on any subject, passionate patriotism, respect he commands in foreign lands!

He keeps failing, as he must. The scope of the problem is far beyond his small philosophy and doubtful skills. There is talk of corruption, jobs for the boys, even of money hidden in foreign bank accounts, generally in the names of other people.

His incompetence or failures brings no personal loss. The disappointed voter may reject him. However, if he controls his political party machinery, after five short years, there is a good chance of coming back, perhaps with a new set of slogans and a revamped image. Our politicians have extremely long careers. This is democracy, Sri Lankan style!

It will be idle to speculate our fate had all leaders since 1948 been different. Left alone, or given different leadership, the country may well have progressed better. Whether there is this particular leader or not, with the progression of time there is natural development. To list every misstep, blunder, inaction, over-reaction and the corruption that ran through all these seven decades is a matter for future scholars and historians. 

Objectively, every government since 1948 has failed this country, our economy left permanently poor, in endless crisis. Realising that there is very little hope, anybody who wishes for a better life, will leave, migrating to a Western country. Many of the political caste also have sought greener pastures, a fact humiliatingly acknowledged by the craven accommodation of dual citizens in the highest positions of the land today.

Now the Rajapaksas, the most zestful practitioners of family politics, have come to dominate the governing caste. More than the Senanayakes, more than the Bandaranaikes, the Rajapaksas epitomise the outrage of family politics. There is no other country in this world where three brothers occupy the positions of President, Prime Minister and Finance Minister. In addition, there is another brother Chamal, and Namal Rajapaksa, Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa’s son, holding cabinet posts; the Government is barely distinguishable from the Rajapaksa family. 

Adding to this concentration of family within the cabinet of ministers, there are numerous other family members holding various positions of power, some even as ambassadors representing this country in the most powerful capitals of the world. From what we read in the news, one of these family ambassadors has made his country a hilarity in America.

Leonard Woolf’s classic “Village in the Jungle”, explores the minds of men placed hopelessly in unrelentingly harsh and dangerous circumstances. They lived in the shadow of the threatening jungle; primeval, pathetically poor, only through their primitive cunning could they sustain their short and brutish lives. Woolf’s sympathetic, yet stark depiction of life in a remote Southern village in the early 20th Century, the deep corrosion of the souls of those trapped in indescribably tragic conditions, is enlightening as well as deeply troubling.

Thankfully, we progress. Today, you don’t have to go hunting to eat. There is the open economy. The parliamentary system opens new avenues for progress, to represent the people, even become elite. Leonard Woolf’s village does not exist any longer, we cannot however say about the dark and narrow minds that such places engendered.

The architect of the Rajapaksa juggernaut is Mahinda Rajapaksa, a man of ordinary stature in every aspect but seeped in rural craftiness. He knows what makes his fellow countrymen tick, and that knowledge is not complimentary – easily flattered, influenced and bought. Not only was Mahinda Rajapaksa able to be President (two terms), he most astutely converted his family into heir-apparent status, like royalty, all planning to ascend the presidency on a future day. Every politician succeeds relative to his opposite number. In this aspect, Mahinda Rajapaksa was extremely fortunate. 

Democracy is meaningless without a democratic spirit. There are many written and easily understood rules of democracy. There are still more rules which are unwritten, but essential to give meaning to the concept of democracy.

A better appreciation of the spirit of democracy would show that the system is based on numerous checks and balances, many unwritten. When the same family controls both the executive and the legislature, the scheme is sullied. It is knavish to argue that the people have voted for it. The two main political parties in this country are controlled by one person or family. When the ruling party becomes unpopular the people have no choice but vote for the alternative. To use that vote of protest/frustration as an endorsement of a family rule is a mockery of the deeper principles of democracy.

For too long we have ignored transgressions and even indecencies of our political caste.

Now, without lights, without cooking gas, without petrol in the car and without money in the pocket, this unfortunate nation has to sit down to a banquet of consequences.