Sri Lanka: Peopling the ‘revolution’

The government probably has a plan. It appears that the plan is not being communicated well enough, not to those tasked to implement it and not to the people. That’s a communications problem and is easily rectified.
( December 18, 2016, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian) The word ‘revolution’ is a bit like love. It’s over-used to the point that it has lost all meaning and has been discredited to the point that even in advertising it is now passé. And yet the word has not lost any of its currency, never mind knowledge of its meaning among its users. This is why even a mere electoral result is described as a ‘revolution’. Like the one on January 8, 2015.
Perhaps it needs to be read as an expression of exultation by the victors and their supporters or an anticipation that things will change radically. The former would make every regime-change a revolution and if the realization of hope is the test, then the electoral victory of Mahinda Rajapaksa in 2005 can be counted as one. After all an outcome was yielded during his tenure that everyone was relentlessly told was impossible — the military defeat of the LTTE.
What happened in January 2015 was also something that was considered impossible — an electoral defeat of Mahinda Rajapaksa — but that invincibility was hardly hammered into the psyche of the general public with the kind of ferocity that marked the doctrine of invincibility as far as the LTTE was concerned. Nevertheless, when impossible becomes possible, it generates much euphoria and one might even say ‘triumphalism’.
Reality rises, through all of that, sooner or later. This, however, does not mean that hope should be buried or that an new edition of regime-change should be plotted. What it calls for is sober assessment.
The winning combination was a hastily cobbled gathering whose principal commonality was antipathy to the incumbent. It was not going to be a yahapalana government by yahapalanists (i.e. those who understood the term ‘good governance’, subscribed to it in word and deed, and knew what has to be done to make it real) and, one could add, for yahapalanists. It was a programme that unified enough forces to yield just enough numbers to ensure victory over a particular regime, but not everyone who jumped on the yahapalana bandwagon were or are yahapalanists. It is those who harboured the illusion who are disappointed most. Other disappointments are the common kind, those which blame governments for not doing or doing, as the case may be, and have little to do with angst over revolutionary let-down.
In any event, even the most ardent opponent of this government would, if pushed to sober deliberation, acknowledge that a) yahapalanaya was going to be an uphill task anyway because significant numbers of politicians, officials as well as citizens were clueless and clueing them in would take a lot of time and persuasion, b) that uphill task was made even more difficult by the unfamiliar terrain of arch rivals finding themselves forced to cohabit, and c) some important advances have been made on key fronts, including constitutional reform and media rights, over and above the usual pluses expected during the post-election honeymoon.
In retrospect, even the cautious celebration expressed in the term ‘Low-intensity revolution’ used by Nirmal Ranjith Dewasiri, seems optimistic. The truth is that the disappointments of the yahapalana-hopefuls is not something that should worry the government right now. It may matter in an election, because the possible neutralization of a key opinion-making segment might make a difference, but right now it’s the disappointments and even anger of the general public including groups of professionals that should worry the government.
The slip-ups have ranged from the usual fax pas from ministers and officials to questionable handling of the Central Bank bond issue scandal. Between these there are innumerable let-ups that could be called disappointing but then again could also be understood as the product of ‘politics as usual’. The more serious issue is the perception that this is a do-nothing government, a regime that’s big on talk and small on delivery.
To be fair, orchestrating recovery in an economy marked by mindless expenditure, a fascination with loans, wastage and mismanagement, is no easy task. It’s certainly not something that can be done overnight or even within the course of two years. The Prime Minister clearly has a pulse not only on promises but on delivery, and indeed on the perceived slowness and disappointments.
“They want to see the delivery taking place, that’s what we are focussing on. Once the delivery is assured, it will cease to be a major problem. Till then you’ve got to live with a thorn on your side, and I think our political parties are capable of doing that,” he said, referring to the noises made by the Joint Opposition.
This, however, is another promise. If there’s focus, then it’s clearly behind-the-scenes. The ‘thorn in the side’ notwithstanding, what needs to be done has to be done and in fact can be done if there’s focus and if there’s the critical mass of committed, capable and efficient people on your side. If indeed such people exist, they can’t all be behind the scenes simple because the screens won’t cover all. What does get seen does not exactly cause anyone to hope.
The government can point to a human resource issue that is not of its making, but this will not help calm down a people who have been taught to live in and demand the here-and-now ever since 1977.
Dealing with the opposition has for too long taken centre-stage. It is as though the spectre of the Rajapaksas is freezing the government. The Prime Minister has correctly said that if things get done, that factor would diminish, but therein lies the rub: there’s an ‘if’ and ‘when’ in the business of getting things done. In other words, time is running out.
The ruling coalition, for all the occasional claims of unity, is a shaky disposition. The Prime Minister claims that “people like the idea of the two main parties – SLFP and UNP working together,” but one wonders if ‘the people’ referred to are only those politicians who have benefitted from the arrangement. The people, common sense indicates, are less interested in political arrangements at the top than what it yields by way of benefits to them.
The government probably has a plan. It appears that the plan is not being communicated well enough, not to those tasked to implement it and not to the people. That’s a communications problem and is easily rectified. The more serious issue is one of getting the right people on board. Right now, it’s clear that the government is floundering on this score. Correctable, of course, but with difficulty. It’s not an issue that will go away and it is certainly not something that can be wished away.
So we can call it ‘revolution’ or a ‘tea party’ or whatever, but if the right people are not around, it’s not going to be a lot of fun, that much is assured.
Manik de Silva is the chief editor of Sunday Island, where this piece was originally published.


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