J. R. Jayewardene’s victory in 1977 signalled a change of
face in the United National Party (UNP). It began a complete reversal of the
policies which the defeated Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) had embraced and
introduced to the country in 1956 and went beyond just rejecting them. To say
that the 1978 Constitution sought to facilitate this reversal would be putting
things mildly. In all honesty, what Jayewardene envisioned was nothing less
than the second biggest social, economic, and political revolution here after
Bandaranaike.
He has been vilified, unduly sometimes, for having ruined
the economy and leaving it in shambles. Those who contend with his policies
with reason are rare; those who do so without knowing his original program are
not. To be fair, this is also the case with those who criticise Bandaranaike
and Mahinda Rajapaksa.
The point is that with Jayewardene we faced, for the first
time, a complete shift to the Right. This has been discounted. Wrongly.
What was the bigger picture? If 1956 represented, as Denzil
Peiris wrote, the “maturing of the long submerged Sinhalese intelligentsia”,
which as Regi Siriwardena observed consisted of a “belated and weak embryonic
bourgeoisie”, then 1977 represented not a repudiation of that class, but a
substitution for its “retrogressive, narrow, and stunted ideology” of the UNP’s
tilt towards capitalist rationality. In other words, 1977 sought to end
divisive ethnic consciousness with an all-embracing cosmopolitanism, memorably
distilled decades later by Professor H. L. Seneviratne in his jathika/arthika
thesis (when differentiating between rhetoric and policy).
Jayewardene was both right and wrong in this. He emerged at
a time when the United States was propping dictatorships around Latin America.
His victory coincided with that of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. What
these two figures, and the dictators their governments supported, indicated was
a rift (a faulty one) between political centralisation and economic
liberalisation: a rift which has visited successive governments since 1977,
here and elsewhere.
What happened then was what has made and broken political
equations over and over again: the tendency of parties to win by landslides
when tilting to political extremes. Bandaranaike’s SLFP won on this count, as
did her daughter and her successor, Rajapaksa. In Jayewardene’s case though, what
came out was, at the outset, a party which was supposedly open to reform.
Was it though? Not really. Despite its pledge on delivering
the goods with regard to the Tamil people and reforming political structures,
the UNP instead conferred the government with near-dictatorial powers and robbed
itself of any legitimacy by holding a referendum which prolonged the party’s
five-sixth hold on parliament by a simple majority. True, it saw through the 13th and 16th Amendments, but that had less to do with political will
than with an imposed will, especially
with how India asserted itself then.
As 1977 clearly showed therefore, embracing capitalist
rationality was not an end but a means to an end when it came to political
reform. Enforcing this same rationality through economic liberalisation on one
hand and political centralisation to facilitate such liberalisation on the
other hand, therefore, couldn’t last. Not for long. Few would have bet, naturally,
that the euphoria which greeted Jayewardene in 1977 remained when he left in
1988, when the UNP changed its outlook on the economy from neo-liberalism to
populist conservatism under Ranasinghe Premadasa.
The irony is that not even Premadasa could undo the
political autocracy / economic democracy dichotomy his predecessor left to him.
Indeed, during his presidency he not only sanctioned a culture of political
vengeance, which by all accounts dwarfed the abuses of Rajapaksa’s regime, but even
tried to hide that same culture by sustaining a populist image. It was
Premadasa, not Bandaranaike (S. W. R. D. and Sirimavo) who epitomised the
populist dictator image here. His successor in this sense was Rajapaksa, who
like Premadasa became alienated from his own party before being ousted.
In a context where the political Right didn’t operate on
ideology, what did Ranil Wickremesinghe’s foray into the UNP symbolise? Firstly,
he privileged and pushed forward Jayewardene’s agenda and did away with
Premadasa’s. Secondly, he ensured that inasmuch as his archrival Chandrika
Kumaratunga was using her popular image to grab votes while “doing” a Tony
Blair on her traditionally left-oriented party, he didn’t give way to her by
doing the same thing. He thus remained a staunch policy-driven technocrat from
the Right.
In other words, Wickremesinghe became a fiscal hawk, a war
dove, a capitalist ideologue in the truest sense of the term, and a political
autocrat, more so than his uncle, to a point where his enforcement of “rational”
policy itself became irrational and conceited. Watch his pre-election interview
on Derana, for instance, and you will see that for all his clever manoeuvres
and wit, his insistence on arguing with hostility borders on arrogance.
With him as prime minister today, how will the political /
economic rift be handled in the interests of good governance? Firstly, it is
absurd to expect miracles in this regard from any administration run by him. He
is not his uncle in that he refuses to bend before the wind, and when he does
so, he commits U-turns so dramatically that it takes time to adjust, as seen in
the Paul Harris affair and the Millennium City fiasco.
Secondly, his continuing dominance in his party (as seen in
those he handed out ministerial portfolios to and those he purposely
marginalised) means that good governance for the most will have to come from
his first-in-command, Maithripala Sirisena. Sirisena, by all accounts, might
represent what Mahinda Rajapaksa could have been but failed: a reformist leader
who never confused equity or growth for the attainment of them through
political coercion. The UNP has more to learn from him, not surprisingly.
Here’s the bottom line, hence. Ever since 1977, we have been
facing an essential dichotomy, a huge gap, between economic policies on the one
hand and political principles on the other. This is not and will never be
endemic to Sri Lanka alone. Both the Latin American and East Asian experiences
testify to that. No reason to abandon hope, however.
As such, attaining congruence between political and economic
freedom (one which Rajapaksa could have realised but didn’t try to reach for)
rests more with Maithripala Sirisena than with his prime minister. A bitter
truth certainly. Can’t help. Wickremesinghe has his past, after all.
Written for: The Nation INSIGHT, September 19 2015
Written for: The Nation INSIGHT, September 19 2015
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