Why The Young Cannot Be Absolved


It would be rash to blame one party, or ideology, for the imbroglio this
has resulted in. You can add, multiply, subtract, and divide, but
whichever way you look, the truth is painfully obvious: it’s not the
world we once knew. What’s true for the world is true for this country
too. It’s not the country I used to know.
Part of the reason for that, I think, is the way the young react to
political parties and political infighting in general. It doesn’t take a
theorist to figure out that, no matter what the party, no one has
really stood for the interests of the teenage, adolescent, and early
adult demographic (between 18 and 24). Their indifference towards
political movements stems, not from anger, but from disappointment: it
cost the Democrats in 2016, when, shocked at the defeat of Bernie
Sanders and upset at Hillary Clinton’s at times self-contradictory
stances, they came down: 60 percent of the 18-24 year old segment had
voted for Obama in 2008; for Clinton the turnout was, by contrast, 55
percent. Resentment can be tough.
As a former member of this segment (I turned 25 the day the US midterm
elections were held), I can attest and even relate to the contempt with
which those who belong to it treat conventional politicians. There was a
glimmer of hope in 2015 when Ranil Wickremesinghe and his cohorts took
over the parliament. For the first time in many years, a woman took over
the Ministry of Women and Child Affairs; for the first time ever, a
woman took oaths as Mayor of Colombo; for the first time also, many of
the members of the Cabinet actively struck a chord with the young.
And it wasn’t just those promises of free Wi-Fi and free laptops and
free tabs that endeared these politicos to them (in any case, we don’t
have the statistics relating to how many of them voted for Maithripala
Sirisena and the UNP). It was the idea of legislators actively taking
into account their views, opinions, even prejudices. When a young man I
know well, who supports Mahinda Rajapaksa, told me that he had no respect for Anagarika Dharmapala because
of his chauvinism, I realised that these were views, opinions, and
prejudices that transcended simplistic political dichotomies. These
youngsters were hard to understand.
I know there are those who supported Ranil Wickremesinghe because
of his school tie and elitist credentials (the school clique he
institutionalised was one of many reasons why his campaign failed), but
even those from this segment who were batting for him were focusing on
younger blood: on Harsha de Silva, Eran Wickramaratne, Harshana
Rajakaruna, and more than anyone else, Buddika Pathirana. If Mahinda
Rajapaksa managed to conjure an image of himself as a baby-carrying
populist who was in touch with the people, these parliamentarians
conjured an opposite image: those who made it evident for us that
politicians need not always carry those babies.
The need of the hour, in 2015, was a set of parliamentarians who could
convince us that there needed to be a shift in the polity from the
Executive to the Legislature. A crucial part of the campaign for this
shift stemmed from the belief that the country needed meritocrats like
Harsha and Eran. They were the face of the UNP.
For a while, this worked. From the UPFA I could think of only one
politician constantly in touch with the young, and that was Ramesh
Pathirana. But when Pathirana posted on Facebook the figures for AIDS patients in India and Sri Lanka and
how the situation here would worsen if the ETCA deal was struck, he
raised flak from the medical community for his serophobia. It was
difficult to imagine Harsha and Eran indulging in that kind of
below-the-belt mudslinging. It still is, because they are from a
different calibre: while their cosmopolitanism can be squared with the
UNP, if tomorrow a campaign for democracy is launched against the party
leadership, for legitimate reasons, they would join in, just as
Athulathmudali and Dissanayake joined in the movement against Ranasinghe
Premadasa.