Malinda Words

Yala is about wildlife. That’s the story. It is not incorrect. I first went to Yala in 1971. Family trip. I remember seeing peacock and jungle fowl, deer and wild buffalo. And of course elephants. The next trip was in the late eighties. Friends. All of the above and leopard too. Sure, there were birds and butterflies, trees and flowers and the odd wild boar and crocodile, but it’s mostly elephant, deer and peacock. I had different eyes then and possibly better vision too. This time it was different and not just because of changed ecological, social, political, cultural and economic contexts.

I have the deepest respect for the natural world; just don’t claim to know much about it. I like photographs, but I am neither photographer nor photo-critic. I like to watch animals, but neither have the means nor the knowledge to appreciate them the way I am sure a wildlife enthusiast would. So this is not an essay about wildlife in Yala.

There were more people in Yala than there were animals, or so it seemed to me. Perhaps it was the wrong time of the day or wrong time of the year or perhaps because there were too many vehicles on the dirt tracks in the park but we saw very little wildlife. Didn’t upset me.

I went with family. A big party of people. Lots of children. Stayed outside the park. Governor’s Camp is a nice place. Lots of space, clean, neat, comfortable and thankfully none of the trappings of the usual tourist hotel/lodge. Abeysinghe and Ranjith, the two man staff, did the work of 10 people and I was told they had not had any rest since the beginning of December. They cooked, cleaned and in my case provided excellent conversation about all kinds of topics for free. That itself was your-money’s-worth in my book, but the place offered much else besides.

This is rain-time in Yala (and almost everywhere else in Sri Lanka!). That was a big difference from what I remember. Things were green. Not just not-brown green, but all-shades green. A roll of gaze from left to right would in one sweep give me such colour variation that I wished I was a painter. Or photographer.

One didn’t have to move around to find things that fascinate eye and provoke meditation, I found. Well, that’s true of all places, even the most congested road, crowded market place or a garbage dump can ‘give’ in like manner; but these tidbits for the eye came clothed in a pollution free wrapper made of birdsong, breeze, brick-less surroundings and uninterrupted play of light and shade. Made a difference.

I suppose everyone takes something and hopefully leaves nothing behind that is not biodegradable. There’s a lot one takes from empty spaces and a lot from places relatively untouched by human beings. Yala is a goldmine. Sorry, every square inch of that place is a goldmine. This is not the moment or place to draw a map and mark in detail the treasure-filled spaces. Indeed, I am not a surveyor equipped with relevant tools to do justice to such a project. I will just write a few paragraphs about what made this trip different.

Stone. On the beach. From the finest grain of sand through pebbles crafted by the fingers of three accomplished artists – wind, sand and water – to the mighty sentinels that have greeted sunrise from who knows when and meet in silence the touch of the elements, the whip of wave and storm as well as caress of spray and breeze. My most worthwhile hours were made of these. No, not at Yala, strictly speaking, but a few hundred meters from Governor’s Camp.

The universe and the eternal verities were all mapped out and etched on these entities. The story of life, the vagaries of emotion, the ambiguities of the human condition and the timeless wisdom of the Buddha’s discourse on impermanence I saw in flashes of illumination as my uncrafted eyes dwelled on and moved from signature to signature, those chiseled over aeons in the peculiar union of moment and century with sun and rain and sea and wind.

I’ve heard that the universe is contained in a grain of sand. I can’t say that I saw universe or really saw grain of sand, but from my perch on rock, bathed by sky, sun, the arc of bay, wide expanse of water and the myth that is horizon, I figured that all things constitute a call for meditation, an invitation to get off the particular safari-jeep (metaphorically speaking) that we are loathe to leave and stand still.

Yala is made of wildlife. Yala is not made of wildlife. Yala is located at the South-Eastern corner of Sri Lanka. Yala is not in the South-Eastern corner of Sri Lanka. Yala is a rock that is right in front of your nose, in your pocket, in the eye that catches your eye and the entwined gaze such encounter produces.

I wished I was a photographer. A painter. Or a poet. It is something that I want to share, this experience I mean, but I lack word and wonder also if it would matter to others.

Perhaps I should say, ehi passiko, (‘come, see’), the invitation to contemplate the Dhamma as expounded by Siddhartha Gauthama, and leave it at that.

*This was first published in the Daily News of December 28, 2010

Malinda Seneviratne is the Editor-in-Chief of 'The Nation' and can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com

Pic courtesy www.alltravels.com

A student of the Arts Faculty, University of Peradeniyawho was also a member of the Student Council was found guilty of misconduct and suspended for three years. This was in 1997. The boy’s nickname was Meeminna. Meeminna was from Bandarawela. He had got involved in student politics not on account of party membership but out of a strong sense of justice. Universities are not perfect and there is a lot of hanky panky that warrants agitation. That political parties abuse these conditions for their own purposes is a different matter. Meeminna was drawn into politics and before he knew it was in the thick of things. He was by default supporting the JVP agenda.

Reality hit him when he was suspended. He did what he had to do. At a time when university students didn’t have mobile phones, he decided to cross the river to use the pay-phone and inform him older brother of his fate. He was stopped on the AkbarBridgeby no less a personality than the then JVP ideologue at Peradeniya, an engineering student who was known as ‘Gurula’. Now Gurula was a heart-and-soul JVPer and one who was lacking in intellect even by JVP standards. He had immediately launched into a lecture which I reproduce in translation thus:

‘Comrade Meeminna, you have been granted the favour of a long vacation. You are good with words, you can write. We have several newspapers such as ‘Gamana’, ‘Seenuwa’ and ‘Niyamuwa’ and you can write to any one of them.

‘Now Meeminna Sahodaraya, look at the Mahaweli. The water flows and flows. The fish swim downstream and upstream. Look at the bamboo. They bend over the river with so much grace. But Meeminna Sahodaraya, you are not permitted to write about such things. You have to ask, “why is it that the river is so brown?”’

Meeminna had muttered an apology and made his escape. He told me later that he didn’t have the heart to tell Gurula Sahodaraya that it must have rained upstream and that’s why the water had such a bora-colour.

I’ve heard the story about glasses, half full and half empty. There are two sides to a coin. The betel leaf is polished and smooth on one side, but its underside is rough and ungainly. I know about the ata lo dahama, the play of praise-blame, profit-loss, fame-notoriety and sorrow-joy and the virtue of treating these vicissitudes with equanimity. Different eyes see different things, attribute reason in different ways and respond differently.

This morning I traveled the road I travel almost everyday. There were vehicles. There were people. The world had woken up not very different to how it had the previous day and probably as it would tomorrow.

I am not on AkbarBridge right now but if I were I could describe the view in Gurula terms. Or be silent. The river would flow as it had the previous day and as it would tomorrow.

All I know is that it must have rained heavily upstream for the river of life is in spate on account of a death, ironically.

A week ago I visited a friend at the MaharagamaHospital (see 'Some games don't get thrown, Sidath taught me'). Ward 17. I was worried that I might not recognize him. I looked for ‘face cut’. Found. Went right up to him. Looked at him. Concluded that I was mistaken. I walked away and swept my eyes across the room, pausing at each bed, each patient. Then I heard a voice.

‘Samadanie, anna balanna, maalinda maava hoyanava’ (Look at Malinda, Samadanie; he is looking for me). I was with my wife. I recognized the voice which contained intact the entirety of his identity as a good humoured, genial, laid-back individual. I went to cheer him up. He cheered me up instead. As he always had. Sidat was one of the few individuals I know who has never ever held a grudge against anyone. He was wronged by many but he never betrayed even an iota of ill will towards his detractors.

It must have rained hard but who am I to complain or judge, for perhaps it rained just to make a life-boat go faster from here to there. The water is murky but a smile arrives from a long ago, a voice seeks me. Wipes a tear. Leaves a smile, leaves me without adequate words to say ‘goodbye’ but says nevertheless ‘see you soon’ or ‘ennam’ (I shall arrive) as we are wont to say at parting.

*This was first published in the Daily News of December 29, 2010.

Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer who can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com

Unprecedented rainfall has caused much hardship to people all over the island. Reservoirs are overflowing, rivers have broken their banks, roads have gone under water, and entire communities rendered helpless. Meanwhile politicians go around the country promising better tomorrows. Nature, clearly, is not listening.

The Bar Association of Sri Lanka often tries to claim moral high ground and political neutrality. This was particularly apparent during moves to oust the former Chief Justice Shirani Bandaranayake. Whenever issues pertaining to the profession come up, the office-bearers and the membership articulate positions. They also speak up whenever they feel the independence of the judiciary is under threat. As they should.

What the Bar Association cannot get away from, however, is that its key office bearers are not always politically neutral. They have political preferences and some of these preferences are less about ideology than about political parties.

There’s nothing wrong in this of course. As individuals, these people do have political rights. They typically play these down, focusing instead on ‘principles’. As they should. The problem is consistency, at least under the current leadership.

Not too long ago, the Bar Association was up in arms over Minister of Rehabilitation Rishard Bathiudeen’s antics in Mannar. The man, well known for strong-arm tactics, got his goons to attack the Mannar Court. The errant Minister didn’t stop there. He thought fit to put the District Judge and Magistrate A Judeson in the dock, subjecting him to interrogation and numerous threats.

The Bar Association was livid. Statements were issued condemning the Minister. The membership was instructed to boycott the courts. The entire judicial system was brought to a standstill. They had a case. They made it.

Time passed. An election was announced. Candidates were picked. Key campaign issues were discussed. One of the main issues of the Opposition Candidate, Maithripala Sirisena, is law and order. Consequently there has been a lot of rhetoric about the independence of the judiciary, the vexed issue of politicians interfering in the work of the Police and the courts. ‘This would be ended,’ it has been promised. All valid arguments and as such the promises certainly carry weight.

Time passed. Politicians, as they are wont to do in this country, assessed the mood of the electorate, weighed their chances of securing nomination in Parliamentary elections and thought about the worth of their respective stock. Some remained where they were. Some decided to switch allegiances.

Then Rishard Bathiudeen ‘moved’. He crossed over to the Opposition Camp. On the face of it, he is just another politician making ‘an informed choice’. Sure, he put a bit of spin by feeding and denying speculation for a while, but that’s not illegal. Neither was his loyalty-switch.

It is disturbing no doubt to those who believed that the Opposition was serious about law and order, independence of the judiciary, the need to arrest political thugs and so on. The man, after all, was warmly embraced by those who have suddenly decided to champion these causes, never mind their indulgence and indeed culpability in the exacerbation of this state of affairs they object to now.

But that’s a problem for the Opposition. Politicians play a power game. They worry about numbers. They weigh options, assess marginal benefits over marginal costs. They probably believe what Rishard ‘brings’ is larger than what they might lose thanks to Rishard’s arrival. That’s their business.

But what’s the ‘business’ of the Bar Association and its moral posturing? What’s their ‘business’ when it comes to public assessment of the sincerity of their various objections?

President of the Bar Association, Upul Jayasuriya, says ‘there are bigger issues…this is a political issue and I don’t want to comment about it’. Upul Jayasuriya’s political loyalties are well known. He has not been so shy of political issues to constantly skirt them. The President of a body like the Bar Association ought to know that politics pervades all spheres. Indeed, isn’t this why Jayasuriya and others were upset over the removal of Shirani Bandaranayake? Rishard attacks the edifice that is house to Jayasuriya and the entire Bar Association. If anyone offers to defend the house, it should warm their hearts. If the would-be protectors embrace those who throw stones at the house, it raises certain questions. These questions, Jayasuriya says are not worthy of response. His choice.

He is right about there being ‘bigger issues’ though. He has cited the vanishing act of another ruling party thug, Nishantha Muthuhettigama. Both are ‘big issues’ and their sizes perhaps are determined by the preference of the person taking measurement.

In the end, it is not political rivals that need to lament. It is the people. The candidates and their supporters are doing their best to make it extremely difficult for people to decide who the good guys are. Upul Jayasuriya’s outfit has lowered the bar. For errant politicians. This is sad. We could put it another way: 'Rishard Bathiudeen has made Upul Jayasuriya bend (the Bar).' That's even sadder.

The United National Party (UNP) has not won a Presidential Election since 1988. That’s 26 years. In a could which saw frequent baton-changes between the two major parties, i.e. the UNP and the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) or at least coalitions led by one or the other, this is a serious state of affairs.

Now it can be argued that Ranil Wickremesinghe was robbed, so to speak, both in 1999 and 2005. In 1999 a close election went the incumbent’s way when she lost an eye in a terrorist attack, the resulting sympathy translating into a vote-sway. Moreover, S.B. Dissanayake once claimed that he had ensured that 400,000 හොර ඡන්ද (illegal votes) were cast in her favor. The claimant of course late switched sides and was the UNP’s National Organizer for a while before crossing party lines again. It is also claimed, frequently enough, that Ranil would have won in 2005 had the LTTE not stopped Tamils in the North and East from voting.

It seems to have gone downhill thereafter. The brief UNP-led Government with Ranil Wickremesinghe as Prime Minister was roundly defeated in 2004. The UNP suffered another major defeat in 2010 when the UPFA retained power in a Parliamentary Election. Between 1994 and 2014, except for a brief high in local government elections in 2002/3, Ranil’s UNP has lost so dozens of elections. It must be said, however, that the provincial and local government elections generally go to the party holding power at the centre and thus Ranil was always handicapped, not to mention the fact that the ruling party used the staggered-elections policy so that state resources could be more effectively (and illegally of course and as has been done by all ruling parties, the UNP included) employed to secure victory.

For all this, the UNP’s manifest inability to field a credible candidate at presidential elections is a serious indictment on that party. In 2010, as the ‘Common Opposition Candidate’ Maithripala Sirisena observed, it was a tough ask for anyone. He said he was surprised that the former Army Commander Sarath Fonseka polled the numbers he ended up with. This was, as he said, just after the country was rid of the terrorist menace after three long decades of bombs, bullets, suicide attacks and bloodshed. Naturally, credit accrued to the man under whose leadership the battle was won. No one who says ‘all power resides with the president’ courtesy the constitution can really argue that credit should go elsewhere.

The 2010 election was therefore going Mahinda Rajapaksa’s way anyway, whoever the UNP fielded. And yet, even in unfavorable conditions, those in the weaker camps have not twiddled thumbs, either in Sri Lanka or elsewhere. Hector Kobbekaduwa in 1988 and Sirimavo Bandaranaike in 1988 fought the good fight. Left candidates always showed spirit. They all lost, but their respective parties gained, at least to the extent that they managed to periodically re-energize their ground-level networks.

The UNP on the other hand threw in the towel almost immediately after the bell was rung for the first round. In 2010, Sarath Fonseka was not a proxy but a sacrificial lamb. The support was lukewarm, the outcome was a foregone conclusion and the only consolation that the UNP got was the right to say ‘we didn’t contest, so we didn’t lose!’ That’s as weak a brag as you can find. If the UNP wounds of 2004 and 2005 were close to getting healed, the January 2010 victory of Mahinda opened them up. In April, the UNP bled and continued to bleed to the point that the regime was able to secure a two-thirds majority in Parliament.

One would have expected the UNP to learn some hard lessons, but this time around too the party was unable to put forward a credible candidate. Instead, it now supports a renegade of the party’s principal political enemy, expecting to get some tidbits should he succeed in defeating the formidable incumbent, Mahinda Rajapaksa.

For all the talk of the Prime Minister for Ranil (for services rendered) in the event Maithripala Sirisena wins, for all the calculations about Maithripala needing the UNP’s Parliamentary group after January 8, 2015 (if he wins, again), the UNP has shown abysmal understanding of political realities. On Day 1 of a Maithripala Presidency, he would not just be the all powerful Executive President, he can count on the entire SLFP to turn its back on Mahinda and back him instead. The political future of all SLFP MPs, after all, would thereafter be tied to the fortunes of Maithripala and not Mahinda. It is not impossible to think that he could even get the support of two-thirds of the MPs and institute constitutional reform without any support of the UNP!

Where would that leave the UNP? Where would that leave Ranil Wickremesinghe? In short, in the event of a Maithripala victory, Ranil and the UNP will be totally dependent on Maithripala’s generosity. To place one’s political eggs in a basket of a man who still claims to be the Secretary General of a rival party is utterly naïve.

‘In the larger interest of the country,’ Ranil and the UNP can claim. ‘If only politics was a fairy tale!’ someone would respond.

Is it a personality issue? Something wrong with Ranil and not necessarily the party? Perhaps. The fact remains though that the party hasn’t been able to fix the problem if indeed this was the problem. So, as things stand, this side of the ‘national interest’ thesis, the party doesn’t stand to gain in the event Maithripala wins. Is this the explanation for the lethargy of the UNP’s electioneering machine on the ground? After all, there seemed to be a lot more enthusiasm in Badulla during the Uva elections, with Harin Fernando leading the way.

Upul Jayasuriya is the President of the Bar Association, champion of a thing called ‘independence of the judiciary,’ strident voice demanding ‘rule of law’ and unwavering defender of all kinds of freedom. He also heads an outfit that is funded by an organization called United States Agency for International Development (USAID) with a long and shady history of subterfuge aimed at destabilizing governments Washington dislikes and propping despotic regimes Washington adores. He was livid when a minister by the name of Rishard Bathiudeen did his version of what J.R. Jayewardene’s goons did to judges of the Supreme Court in the early eighties. The Bar Association went on strike because Rishard threated a judge and instigated an attack on the Mannar Magistrate Court.

Rishard Bathiudeen has ‘crossed’. He’s now in the Maithripala Sirisena camp. When he crossed he was embraced. Warmly. And this by a candidate and campaign that is hot on good governance, a better political culture, independence of the judiciary, the primacy of the law and so on. Upul Jayasuriya could be thinking. In a parallel universe he WOULD think. Something on the following lines, probably.

‘I hate elections. Well, not all elections. I really don’t mind minor elections, but important ones like the Presidential Election really knock me out. Ok, I’ve had my run-ins with Ranil Wickremesinghe. I even said that he will charge-sheeted in a people’s court. I’ve wanted him ousted and when things calmed down, I’ve patched up with him. My UNP activism is no secret. However much I try to portray the BASL as an apolitical outfit, no one really buys the claim.

‘That said, I must say that I do try to come off less as a UNPer than as a regime-change agent. To this end I’ve sided with other “regime-changers” whenever they latched on to any issue that had the potential to strengthen local and foreign forces determined to get Mahinda Rajapaksa out. That’s safer than waving the green flag. Yes, I’ve grown smarter over the years.

‘Still, I am pretty peeved about this presidential election. Not that I’ve not sounded jaded and off-key on account of my UNP connections; my party doesn’t have an impeccable track record. The problem with elections like this is that it’s all about coalitions. Well, it’s all about power, really, but in order to secure power, candidates have to form broad coalitions; the broader the coalition the better the chance of winning. This is the political reality.

‘Now if I was not the President of the BASL and was just another UNP activist it would have been easy. I wouldn’t have had to worry about getting confused about my multiple identities. Now my hands are tied. Worse, I am finding that I am often tongue-tied too.

‘ There’s the case of Sarath N Silve for example. I’ve lambasted him when he was essentially Chandrika’s boy and later Mahinda’s boy. I had to shut up when he started opposing Mahinda. Now he’s with the Opposition. I am gutted because the UNP has found it necessary to leave Sarath alone. It’s the same with Chandrika. How we opposed her! When I remember, I want to cry. And now, she’s on our side (or is it that we are on her side?) and I don’t know with which sauce to eat my words.

‘And now there’s this issue of Rishard. I don’t have to hide the fact that I want regime-change. I don’t have to hide the fact that right now the best opportunity to do so would be to support Maithripala Sirisena. As President of the BASL I’ve always talked about “broader issues”. Like good governance, independence of the judiciary, rule of law etc. etc. The thrust of Maithree’s campaign is about such things. But he has embraced this guy who has thumbed his nose at the entire judicial system of the country.

‘Deep inside me I know that for me political loyalty overrides all these lovely concepts, but as BASL President I can’t really say it. And since I’ve tossed those ideas around as though I consider them articles of faith, it is tough for me to openly support my party, the UNP. Well, not my party really, because unfortunately it is not in a position to field a candidate, but to support the man the party supports, the proxy that we think will give our leader, Ranil, some kind of consolation prize.

‘So yes, I hate this election. Makes me want to resign as BASL President, really!’

It’s Christmas time. This is when even the bulathvita (betel chew) comes with a discount tag or so it seems. This is when stores hand out leaflets, put up poster and advertise all kinds of deals. Some even send booklets detailing which items are going at which discount prices. But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, to beat the deals advertised in election manifestos.

The only difference between manifestos and other kinds of promotional material is that there’s some truth in the latter. We all know that there’s some truth in advertisements. We also know that there’s a lot not being said as well. Things are not heaven-sent after all. ‘Sales’ are about stock-clearing and getting rid of damaged items. Manifestos are different.

Wait, I am getting ahead of my story. You may have wondered why I butchered the word, why I say ‘Money Pesto’ and not ‘Manifesto’. Everyone knows what ‘money’ is. Very few know what ‘pesto’ is. We know. That’s us Kolombians. Pesto is a sauce of crushed basil leaves, pine nuts, garlic, parmesan cheese and olive oil, typically served with pasta. Yes, ‘basil’ is a leaf, not just a name and personality, but that’s another story.

The reason I say ‘money pesto’ is because I overheard some yakkos butchering the word ‘manifesto’. I didn’t bother telling them what ‘pesto’ meant, because I know they would ask me ‘what is festo?’ Kolombians can only take so much of queen-murdering, god save the lady.

But in a way, they got it right. It’s all about money. And it is essentially an ingredient mix that gives flavor to a meal; except of course that it is us Kolombians who get to taste it.

Anyway, to get back to our story, these money-pestos are not really ads. No one really reads them. They are lengthy, boring stories. A lot of promises which no one really believes will be kept. They are so long that if anyone has the patience to read to the end, he/she will find dozens of contradictions and there will be a whole bunch of things that are impossible to deliver. The one thing that keeps one side from taking apart the money-pesto of the opponent is the pot-kettle matter. One is as ‘black’ as the other.

Now we don’t do money-pestos. Kolombians know that it is easier to keep things simple. The French who rose up against the monarchy in the 18^th Century came up with a three-word money-pesto: liberty, equality and fraternity. Easy on the tongue. No one really knows what these words mean now and I doubt anyone in France knew it either, back in the 18^th Century. I think the Russians were as clever when it came to a tight money-pesto but they made the error of using easy-to-understand words: land, peace and bread.

Kolombians know all this. Kolombians know that money-pestos are documents meant to be junked soon after the election is over. We know it’s all about money-making. This is why you won’t find any of us blasting the USA. We won’t utter a single bad word about capitalism. And if our guys are in control you won’t find us blasting human rights violations, the problems of judicial process, theft, embezzlement etc etc. We know what is what. We are not money-pesto people. We are a money-making tribe. The only issue we have about money-making is when non-Kolombian upstarts want to mimic us by making money themselves. That’s something we can’t stand.

For now, though, it’s enough to say that we find this fascination with money-pesto utterly stupid. It is just something that only non-Kolombians are fascinated with. We say, ‘enjoy, suckers – which you sweat over your precious money-pesto, we are busy making money!’

Everyone takes note. Some keep notes. Some in diaries and journals. Some in their minds and hears. Some of these are shared via email or on Facebook or blog; some are not. Among these people are Kolombians, people from Colombo who know much -- so much that they are wont to think that others don't know and can't think. This is the twelfth in a series published in 'The Nation' under the title 'Notes of an Unrepentant Kolombian'.

Other articles in this series:

Shortcuts to becoming a Kolombian

A Kolombian's worst nightmare
The Bourse is ours!
You name it, Kolombians own it
We shall not be re-named
Get off my walkway!
Thank you Mahinda for the Avacado Prawns!
English is a feel-good thing na?
Dear Percy, your membership card is ready
Forget Mahinda and Maithree, Alistair Cook is the Kolombian choice!
One day we will acquire 'class conciseness'!

This was first published in the Daily Mirror on December 15, 2009, just before the last Presidential Election. I flagged certain issues that I believed Mahinda Rajapaksa need to take note of. Today, five years later, the people will (in part) assess whether or not he took note.

When President Mahinda Rajapaksa addressed Parliament for the first time after the war was brought to a close in Pudumathalan in May 2009, he thanked all those who he believed were deserving of appreciation, all those who contributed to the national effort to rid the country of the terrorist menace. He mentioned also the strength he obtained from family, his wife and his three sons; mentioning that ‘family’ helped him understand the anxieties and struggles of those whose loved ones had put their lives on line for the country’s tomorrow. He mentioned also his brothers and, with a smile that was both indulgent of his critics and critical of them at the same time, he said as an aside, ‘sahodara samaagama’.

Sahodara Samagama (the appropriate translation would be ‘Brothers Inc.’) has for some time now been the catch-it-all epithet used by the President’s detractors to vilify the regime. The implication is obvious as is the whine: Government is a family-run business. ‘The family’ being the Rajapaksas. Naturally, the epithet is frequently accompanied by charges of nepotism.

The term Sahodara Samagama struck a sympathetic chord among a certain section of the population, in particular die-hard UNP loyalists long starved of effective taunt to counter the ridicule showered on them on account of defeat after defeat after defeat in numerous elections. It was also received well by the dogged tribe of ‘academics’ and ‘rights-activists’ championing liberal values (when they are not championing separatism and imperialism or campaigning to resurrect the UNP). And then there are others who may not salivate about a neat taunt but would be concerned about the reality that it may be describing.

There are far too many Rajapaksas in the political business, one can argue. There is the President at the top. His brother, Gotabhaya, is the Defence Secretary, arguably the most pivotal position in a country fighting a ruthless terrorist outfit. Then there is Basil, a man without a proper ministry but reputed to be the key behind-the-scene guy for the President, owning the last word on development, resettlement and management of the overall political equation (i.e. executing parliamentary and other jostling to ensure there’s political stability). Older brother Chamal has long been in politics but is clearly a ‘back-bencher’ compared to his younger brothers. Then there’s Chamal’s son Shasheendra, now the Chief Minister of the Uva Provincial Council. There’s Mahinda’s son Namal heading ‘Tharunyayata Hetak’ (A tomorrow for youthfulness), which is the de-facto youth wing of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party. Of ‘lesser’ Rajapaksas and more distant relatives occupying lesser posts I know little, but what is known should suffice for comment.

One way to look at it is to assess competence. I doubt if there’s anyone except the utterly malicious who would say that Gotabhaya Rajapaksa is not a capable Defence Secretary. We know that Sarath Fonseka goes around saying he was single-handedly responsible for the defeat of the LTTE (and that’s an admission of guilt for the crime he claims was committed in the deaths of Nadesan, Pulidevan et al), but a more sober individual would acknowledge that Gotabhaya was a key architect of the victory.

Chamal. Some would say ‘innocuous’. That would make him one of many in the cabinet and indeed one of many among all ministers from across the political spectrum. Basil. Perhaps it is because of the Presidential green light that’s always ‘on’ for him, perhaps for other reasons, but Basil gets things done. That’s what’s known. He is one of the most energetic among the top rankers in the regime if not the most.

Two things need to be said. It is wrong to appoint people to positions based solely on loyalty or blood-ties. By the same token, it is wrong to sidelines the competent just because they happen to be relations and therefore the appointer can be accused of nepotism.

There is another dimension to this sahodara samagama. Mahinda Rajapaksa inherited ad administrative and political apparatus that was infested with people who hated him, hated what he represented and were ideologically and morally corrupt with respect to positions taken on handling the LTTE. He could trust no one, that’s the simple truth. Perhaps he was taking a leaf from the history books or just doing what seemed most logical when he appointed him brothers to handle two key areas, security and development. He can’t be faulted for it.

Sarath Fonseka’s latest antics alone is an adequate rejoinder to any objection to that strategy. Just imagine: what if the war had not ended when it did? We know that some people referred to Sarath Fonseka as the ‘Legal Prabhakaran’ but this does not mean that Prabhakaran could only be defeated by a military twin. In hindsight the biggest security risk taken by the President and his brother was when they appointed Fonseka as Army Commander over several persons senior to the man. There is consolation in the fact that whatever damage he may do to the President, he cannot harm the nation now. Given such realities and possibilities, there was sense in depending on his brothers.

Academic issues over democracy and all related philosophical subtleties aside, there is a reason why the ordinary people in this country have no quarrel with the sahodarayasforming a samagama. I have heard many people say that there was no other way and some who even wish that the President had more brothers. Perhaps we are essentially a feudal society and maybe that’s what is more appropriate for us, I don’t know.

Nepotism then is a tricky issue for me, unclear and un-compelling. What I do worry about is the charge of corruption. Basil Rajapaksa is referred to as ‘Mr 10 Percent’ in that he is accused of taking a 10% commission on all contracts and what not. First of all, that sobriquet had been coined by none other than Chandrika Kumaratunga, a woman who was dubbed as ‘Chaura Regina’ (‘Thieving Queen’). She did close to 0% for the country, and she scored pretty high on mismanagement, treason and financial hanky panky. The ‘Mr 10 Percent’ taunt has been chorused by a lot of Mr/Ms Zero Percents (in terms of ability), and many Mr/Ms. 100 Percent (traitors). I don’t think such people have a right to point fingers.

However, as a citizen, I can point a finger and so can others. I can point a finger at those who make these claims: substantiate! I can point a finger to the President too: investigate! Competence cannot be weighed against corruption. There are ordinary people who are not too happy about the corruption charges. Not all of them are knee-jerk UNPers or JVPers or Fonseka –junkies. They are the types who see the plus side of the sahodara samaagama. They are the types who will campaign on behalf of the President. They are the type who would be willing to go along with the dismissal of allegation, but only up to a point. They are the types who are likely to be the biggest thorn in the regime’s flesh in time to come if the air is not cleared about these allegations.

Our people are not one-dimensional. They are not ready to do the black-or-white number. They will, however, be conscious of the shades and the ‘shady’. They will forgive certain things but not all transgressions. Mahinda Rajapaksa and his brother must understand that there is no such thing as permanent political immunity. Today they are worried about Fonseka. Tomorrow he could be past-tense. Tomorrow, like today, there will be people. And people ask questions. They want answers. This is something that the sahodara samagama ought to keep in mind.

Malinda Seneviratne is the Editor-in-Chief of 'The Nation' and can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com.

This was first published in 'The Daily Mirror' on April 22, 2010. I outlined some of the 'must-do' issues for Mahinda Rajapaksa. Almost four years later, the people will judge. They may focus on other issues when they do so, but these I believe will also factor in to their decision.

Mahinda Rajapaksa scored three significant victories within a period of a single year. In May 2009, under his stewardship, the world’s most ruthless terrorist outfit was comprehensively defeated. In January 2010, Mahinda Rajapaksa fought off what the media and sections of the international community mis-dubbed a ‘challenge’ by General (Rtd) Sarath Fonseka and was re-elected for a second six-year term by a handsome margin. On April 8, in a decision that further strengthened the executive arm, the voter re-elected the United People’s Freedom Alliance (UPFA), taking that party within sniffing distance of a two-thirds majority in Parliament.

All this constitutes reason to celebrate of course. Who, after all, wants to end up on the losing side of any of the three ‘fights’ mentioned above? Still, these victories are qualitatively different from previous ones and even the defeat of the LTTE, welcome as it is, has certain political negatives, for example, the loss of excuse for non-accomplishment of goal, non-implementation of mandate or, to put it bluntly, the ‘setback’ of a beggar who has his/her wound healed.

The 2004 election gave the UPFA a tenuous hold on power further compromised subsequently when the JVP withdrew support. The 2010 result gives the President political stability and a comfortable number-cushion in the legislature. The period 2005-2010 was a presidential honeymoon because it was Rajapaksa’s first term. A lot is forgiven and the possibility of a second term (almost assured given this constitution) was ‘insurance’; things could be postponed and the promise made, ‘I will do this once re-elected’. The down side of re-election is that this is the last term, barring constitutional amendment that can either give the President a subsequent term or extend his political life by other means, for example, by reverting to a system where executive authority is conferred on Prime Minister and cabinet.

The three victories have robbed Mahinda Rajapaksa of one thing: excuses.

For the last thirty two years we’ve known that a lot of our vexed issues pertaining to governance can be traced to a poorly and hurriedly written constitution. For a long time ‘constitutional reform’ was about placating Eelamists in one guise or another. Given the objection to the executive presidency at different time and in different intensities, abolishing it was tagged to the matter of resolving the so-called ‘ethnic conflict’. Later it became obvious that the system of Proportional Representation (PR) had all kinds of flaws and there developed a school of thought that proposed a return to the first-past-the-post system with some provision being made for electing MPs in terms of the proportion of votes polled by the relevant parties.

With time came the issue of the 1978 constitution making good governance impossible. However, by the time realization struck, we were well into the PR system and Governments that were a fair distance away from the two-thirds necessary to set the amendment ball rolling. It took a peculiar set of circumstances in 2001 for the 17^th Amendment to be passed. This is the first constitutional amendment since 1988 and the only one in the past 21 years. That says a lot about how rigid this constitution is.

Mahinda Rajapaksa’s excuse-less situation is a curse. For him. Not necessarily for the people, though. Today, he can’t say ‘we are fighting a war’. Today he can’t say ‘I don’t have the numbers’ (he is within 6 of the magic ‘150’ and for a man who managed to win over 30 plus MPs getting to this number should be child’s play). He can’t say ‘I will do it in my next term’ because he is already there, i.e. in the ‘next term’. He can say ‘I am not going to do what Western powers or I/NGOs tell me’, but he must understand that constitutional reform is something that his constituency needs, wants and has demanded.

There was another excuse that he used: ‘I am waiting for the APRC to submit its proposals’ (and of course other versions of this excuse). He has said that he’s waiting for D.E.W. Gunasekera to submit the final report on the 17^th Amendment, its flaws and recommendations to circumvent these.

There was a time when the excuses readily trotted out had some truth value. We could think, ‘yes, he has a point’ and then choose to wait. He’s run out of excuses and therefore cannot be indulged on account of these circumstances that could early be described as ‘extenuating’.

D.E.W. Gunasekara has provided the President with an excuse for non-action regarding the 17^th Amendment: ‘The independent commissions are not responsible to the Executive, Judiciary or the Legislature and their rulings cannot be challenged in any of these forums; this is a major setback in activating the Constitutional Council and establishing the Independent Police, Public Service, Judicial Service and Elections Commissions’.

I am of the opinion that the 17^th Amendment is not without flaws. I am of the opinion that it should be amended. I still argue for its full and immediate implementation not because I believe it is a decent document, but the constitution should not be tinkered with in the manner it is, i.e. ‘I shall implement that which I like and ignore that which I find uncomfortable’. The same goes for the 13^th Amendment. Non-implementation makes for political anarchy.

If, as D.E.W. Gunasekera points out, there are flaws, then correct them! That’s the logical thing to do. Non-implementation and manifest lethargy in formulating an alternative or at least amending indicates to me that the President is not interested in the stated objectives of the 17^thAmendment.

He doesn’t have to wait for this or that report to implement the clauses of the law of the land. He must first comply and can complain later. He doesn’t have to whine; he can bring his own amendment and get it passed. He has an ‘out’ though: Emergency! There is no LTTE now. There are no bombs going off. We have to give credit where credit is due:

‘THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT! You have given leadership to a long and arduous process that has eliminated two things. You have removed the terrorist threat. THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT. You have removed the need for Emergency Regulations. THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT. You’ve removed the need, now remove the regulation!’

He won’t. The bottom line is political will. Is Mahinda Rajapaksa interested in Good Governance outside the realm of lip-servicing, i.e. to the extent that he acknowledges there are institutional flaws and wants to correct these? I doubt it.

Can you, Mr. President do something else, something that will not threaten your hold on power? Could you, please, take note of the fact that out of the over 100,000 students who qualify to enter university, only 20,000 actually get the opportunity? Could you take note of the fact that the system cannot accommodate the 80,000 ‘extras’? Could you take note of the fact that the other 80,000 are not morons? Could you devise a system to make sure that all those who have shown that they have what it takes to complete a degree, obtain various skills and become useful citizens are not left behind?

We are direly in need of an occupation classification and a census of how many are needed for particular categories of employment. We have to take steps to ensure that the mismatch between educational qualification and labour market requirement is bridged. Such things make no sense if we don’t have the graduates in the numbers we need and the mechanisms that will give us these numbers.

There is no doubt that the State should play the lead role in delivering university education to students with requisite qualifications. However, we have to recognise that there is a problem of capacity as well as one of funding. The current system can be expanded and so too the Open University system, but only to a point. These cannot cater to the entire 100,000 ready to enter institutions of higher learning. Some will go abroad, taking with them a lot of money. The rest will stay and lose their way in the labour market and add to inefficiencies that flow from the inevitable mismatches. That’s a waste of all the money the State pumps into the education system from Grade 1 to Grade 12.

Today, whether we like it or not, the private sector has crept in. There are quack institutes offering quack degrees. There is a need to streamline. There is a need to bring ‘system’ into the process of awarding degrees so that quality is not suffered and so that children and parents are not taken for a ride. There is a need for a liberalization of education in one form or another. And all this has to be done without compromising the state-run university system in any way.

The President does not require a two-thirds majority in Parliament to do this. He can do this with or without Emergency Regulations.

I am not going to hold my breath regarding ‘Good Governance’. That’s the kind of faith I have in politicians. But education is one thing where no one can be left behind. Mr. President, thousands are being left behind. They are the children of the nation, the jathiye daru deriyo you like to refer to frequently. What are you going to tell them?

Victory can be a curse to the victor. That’s small consolation for the citizen. Mahinda Rajapaksa should understand this.

Malinda Seneviratne is the Editor-in-Chief of 'The Nation' and can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com

Ceylon Today: Awareness-creation on vision impairment of the elderly

Long years ago, a Native American leader said, ‘you can dig as deep as you want but there’s one thing you will never find on the lands we’ve lived on: a home for the elderly.’

There was a time when the elderly were not considered liabilities. They were seen as repositories of knowledge, libraries in fact. Even today, there are people in this country who will not equate ‘infirm’ with ‘inability’. And yet, we’ve come to a stage where we have had to mark a special day to talk about the elderly, their difficulties and what kind of action needs to be taken to make their lives easier to live. are all kinds of ailments that afflict the human being. Naturally, the older one gets the more vulnerable one is to disease and accident. Old people can’t get about as easily or as quickly as young people do. This is why many elderly persons take up reading or at least spend more time reading than they used to when they were younger.

And yet, in the rush to get in as much reading material as possible on a page in a newspaper, editors pick smaller font sizes. It’s almost as though they have counted out people with poor eyesight as potential readers. Worse, maybe it doesn’t even cross their minds that such a category of readers live in our midst.

It is in this context that ‘The Nation’ celebrates the decision by Ceylon Today to use a font 70% larger than usual on one particular day in order to highlight the problems of those with poor eyesight and especially the elderly.

Ceylon Today has recognized the elderly and has alerted the young to the inevitable fact of old age and vision impairment that awaits them. We recognize and applaud in turn.

These are days of claim and counter-claim. Easy days of finger-pointing. Days when time is running short and where the basic requirement of claim-substantiation appears to have been retired. A time, however, to think about these things. This was written five years ago, just before another presidential election and published in 'The Nation'.

Those who are old enough would remember a man called T.B. Illangaratne. He was a senior minister in the United Front Government led by Sirimavo Bandaranaike (1970-1977) and along with Hector Kobbekaduwa (another SLFP stalwart) was seen by some to be more ‘left’ and progressive than The Left, i.e. the red-flag-waving ‘comrades’ of the coalition.

Illangaratne was the victim of a malicious rumour. The UNP spread the story that he owned a hotel in Switzerland. Nothing could make anyone believe otherwise. Illangaratne lost his seat in 1977. This defeat probably had more to do with the general public dissatisfaction with Mrs. Bandaranaike’s regime than this allegation of course. The point is that people believed the story and with it came to be convinced that Illangaratne was a crook who used ‘ill-gotten wealth’ to purchase plush real estate abroad.

Whether or not Illangaratne was a crook, even a petty one, is beside the point here. What’s important is that a story was cooked and a man hanged on it. His reputation was tarnished beyond resurrection.

There’s another such example. Gamini Dissanayake. It was said that he had purchased an apple orchard in Australiafrom kick-backs and what not he got from the Accelerated Mahaweli Project. I remember someone saying that vendors in the Pettah were offering apples to people saying that they were ‘our apples’ (apema apel, Gamini Disanayake mahaththayage vatte vavapu eva– our very own apples, from Mr. Gamini Dissanayek’s orchard). What was the source of this ‘story’? It was said that the Far Eastern Economic Review had said that Gamini was one of the 10 wealthiest persons in South Asia. The Far Eastern Economic Review had never made that claim. Even today, I am sure, people think that Gamini Dissanayake’s family owns property in Australia.

The sad thing is that rumours do not have authors who can be hauled to court for character assassination. Rumours make a mockery of the principle of ‘innocent before proven guilty’.

Elections bring the worst out of people, perhaps because the stakes are high and because people invest heavily in the candidates/parties, hoping for high returns later on. It is not difficult to understand how people can quickly slip to by-hook-or-by-crook mode.

This is happening all around us, especially in internet/email forums. Wild allegations are being made. One thing is missing: substantiation. Reading them I felt that we can’t really fault candidates for being crass, uncouth and dirty little fibbers because that’s what the people are. It is one thing for campaign staff to manufacture lies and distribute them, but another thing for supporters to pass them around. I’ve seen people who are articulate, intelligent etc., forwarding emails that contain the most outrageous claims from the most dubious of sources which don’t have an iota of substantiation.

We see the usual disclaimers of course: ‘it is said’, ‘it is reported’, ‘reliable sources say’, ‘according to sources close to (someone)’ etc. What is interesting is that you can say anything you like and get away with it. Throw in some creativity and you enhance believability. That’s what campaigning is all about, isn’t it?

Illangaratne could not counter the rumours. Gamini Dissanayake could not either. I am sure that there are countless others who have suffered. Maybe it was ‘just desserts’ for some, but then again, in a perfect world one is punished for crimes committed not those that are conjured up in the course of a vilification campaign motivated by political prerogative.

How can this vile practice be stopped? I can’t think of a foolproof method given realities and costs involved. What can be done is to treat these as one ought to treat rumour and anonymous letters: with contempt. The best response is to laugh it off and do what should be done: respond withcounter-claim/accusation where relevant but with substantiation.

That’s of course up to the politicians and I really don’t lose any sleep on account of their anxieties. On the other hand, those who actively participate in the business of making allegations with no real proof are doing themselves a huge disservice if they really want things to change and hunger for a more benign political culture.

One has to be the change one wants to see. If what exists is bad then one is not going to change if by mimicking the bad. Throw dirt to counter dirt and you end up with a huge pile of garbage and a big stink. Think the politicians (the incumbent and the challenger) really care? No, they don’t. They are interested in power, not people, not decency. We would be kidding ourselves if we believed otherwise. There’s very little that the citizen can do. But there is one thing that we can do. We can desist from engage in the vasuru keliya (shit-game) that is vilification (i.e. allegation without substantiation).

Still want ‘change’, ladies and gentlemen? Perhaps we should all take a look in the mirror.

Malinda Seneviratne is the Editor-in-Chief of 'The Nation' and can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com.

Bombarded. That’s the word. The voter is being drowned with propaganda material. If only it was just that! It’s much more than a few TV, radio and newspaper commercials. There’s invective that’s being tossed around wherever one goes, whichever direction one turns to. You just can’t escape the vitriol.

In this country where one gets an election every other month more for reasons of political expedience than anything else, this particular election, the Presidential, is different. It’s an election that really counts. Indeed, one might even say that it is the only election in Sri Lanka that really matters, given the powers vested in the office that is being sought. In other words it is a high-stakes election. For this very reason, presidential elections are high octane affairs where candidates and their backers go at each other with no-holds-barred frames of mind.

It’s a shooting-match with bullets ricocheting off every surface, a mud-fight where bystanders get drenched with stuff that’s worse than a bit of wet soil. It’s an eye sore and an earache, this business of campaigning for the presidency.

It is an exercise where the voter is at once treated with king-making respect as well as absolute morons who cannot hear anything unless it is repeated a hundred times and can see nothing unless it is shoved under the nose once every 15 minutes.

We have seen over the past few weeks politicians shifting loyalties at such speeds (both ways) that the dividing line between the two major camps has got blurred. Time was when blue was blue, green was green, red was red and so on. The reds have their own divisions, but at least there is consistency and clarity in message, whether or not one finds the logic compelling enough. But what’s blue and what’s green now, someone could ask. There’s so much green in the official ‘blue’ camp while the official ‘green’ camp has so much blue as to confuse both the blues and greens on both sides of this blurry ‘divide’.

Every person who crosses over claims ‘on principle’. Everyone who crosses over, without exception, has a personal grudge and is consumed in varying degrees by revenge-intent and hatred. And those who cross as well as those who received the ‘crossers’ seem to assume that voters have nothing better to do than to listen to and cheer the sober articulation of ‘principles’ and the wild flinging of insult.

The voter has to consider track records too, not just of the candidates, their stated positions, abilities and achievements, impotency and consequences, but those of their many backers, both individuals and groups. It’s not a pretty picture. It’s a hard-to-choose image of the political that has clearly emerged over the past few weeks. It has forced the voter to think ‘relative merits’. When candidates and their respective key spokespersons happen to have been bosom buddies for years, when sworn enemies are seen chit-chatting on the same stage, the only coherent message that comes out is that all of them, without exception, consider voters to be ace suckers. Gluttons for hoodwinking and other forms of electoral punishment.

Then there are the manifestos. Goody-bags, one could call them. Inflated claims abound in these documents and are bested only by undeliverable promises. These are not ‘vision-statements’ by any stretch of logic. They are not extrapolations of any coherent and wholesome understanding of social, economic and cultural realities. When manifestos can be described as ‘there’s something for everyone,’ history shows that you can rest assured that there’s very little for anyone except of course the would-be king and his small coterie of loyalists. One can safely bet that if candidates are quizzed on their respective manifestos, they will fail to get half the correct answers. It’s that random! And that is the magnitude of the insults the respective camps fling at those who are to elect them.

There’s no two words about it. It’s not just the hour of the voter but it is an hour where the voter has been made to sweat, not to his/her benefit but to elect one out of 19 (or out of 2 if you want to count just the front-runners) individuals who either directly or through their minions has insulted each and every voter in this country.

If there’s democracy in this country and if democracy is to survive well into the future, ladies and gentlemen, rest assured that it will not be due to enlightened politicians or a flawless constitution but the tenacious belief in the idea held by the voter.

Duty is a virtue that resides in the seed of a mango

‘One day I saw an old man planting a tree. I asked him, “Grandfather, you will never taste the fruit of this tree”. He said “I live as though I will live for ever”. Now I live as though I will die tomorrow. Tell me, are we different or are we the same?’

The above is part of a dialogue in the classic film ‘Zorba the Greek’. The ethics associated with the old man planting a tree whose fruit he is destined never to enjoy is not Greek-specific. We are all familiar with the charming ditty where a little child asks a grandfather what he’s doing (he’s planting a mango seed) and then seeks reason for the act. The old man admits that he would probably not live long enough to taste a single mango. Indeed he says that he is not even thinking about it (mama lamayo min ambayak nopathami) but points out that his intention is to do his duty (yuthukama pamanak itu kota thamanemi) just as those who came before did.

This is not a new story. We’ve had a lot of tree-planting campaigns in this country. If there’s one thing that I appreciate about the late President Premadasa it is the fact that he used his executive authority to grow trees. Today, almost two decades since he was assassinated there are miles and miles of roads outside Colombo lined with shady trees that give the impression of a green tunnel. We know whose idea and whose authority and determination gave us those tunnels but we don’t know the names of all those who planted the seeds that grew into trees under whose benevolent branches we’ve taken refuge from the scorching heat and the unforgiving monsoon. The point is, someone planted. That someone is now dead and gone. The trees survive our passing and pass on the goodness of the planter to many who are not given to giving thanks.

My former colleague at the Agrarian Research and Training Institute, Dr. Piyasiri Pelenda once told me that whenever he travels out of Colombo he brings home some sapling to plant in his garden. That was not a tree-planting-day gimmick. It had a yuthukamring to it. Dr. Piyasiri is now lives abroad and he might have no idea who is benefiting from the fruits of his labour. It doesn’t take much to plant a tree of course, the ‘labour’ consists of conscious determination to do the ‘little thing’, the planting of a mango seed. Not because it’s National Tree-Planting Day or someone’s birthday; because it is a ‘yuthukama’ thing.

We live in times where parents admitting their children are required to make donations to the School Development Society. Some schools want parents to pay for a desk and a chair for their child a condition which even the poorest parent will comply with because they still consider education to be of paramount interest. Does it take too much to ask a parent to tell their 5 year old to plant an amba ataya or some other sapling in the garden? The child could be asked to furnish a photograph of the event and thereafter, every year, on the first day of school, submit a new photograph.

Sure, not every family will have a garden, but there’s enough common property that can be used. Not everyone will have a camera, but some other monitoring mechanism can be put in place. Even if this seems too crazy to be part of the overall national policy on education, it is an idea that can be implemented in many places. Even if it was not, it is something that many parents can get their children to do.

When a child grow up with a tree, that child grows to love nature, discovers natural processes that are either taken for granted or are considered negligible enough to be ignorant of. Hundreds of thousands of children enter Grade 1 every year. If a fraction took this exercise seriously, we would have a hundred thousand trees being planted every year and a similar number of citizens who grow up understanding, appreciating and falling in love with the natural world. I am certain they will turn out to be better citizens, more responsible, more benign in their engagements with one another and the world around them.

Patriots in act and not in label.

*This was first published in the 'Daily News' on January 5, 2011.

Malinda Seneviratne is the Editor-in-Chief of 'The Nation' and can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com

This is the fourteenth in a series of articles on rebels and rebellion written for the FREE section of 'The Nation'. Scroll to the end for other articles in this series. 'FREE' is dedicated to youth and youthfulness.

There will be down days. This you know. There will be days when you wonder whether the effort is worth it, when people you trust betray or desert you, when outcomes fought for with utmost passion don’t materialize, when defeat as they say is snatched from the jaws of victory. A rebel’s life is full of such moments. The lucky ones get to Victory Day, but for the most part and even for those who do reach destination it is all about one disappointment followed by another. And another.

There are many ways to deal with the D-Days, that’s ‘Down Days’ by the way. Review and self-criticism, it goes without saying, are exercises you can avoid only at great cost. Refuse to do this and the chances are you’ll repeat mistakes. You have to do this if you are to come out with a thing called ‘lessons learnt’. Invaluable in the long run.

Defeats and disappointment cause people to lose heart. They make it hard to keep the company intact. Self-doubt is a formidable enemy (which is why it makes sense to do things that make the enemy lose heart). The rebel will often be called upon to summon whatever resources available within him just to keep the spirit of the team.

First of all, you can’t lie to people about what happened and what is happening. Even if the ill-informed are convinced, the true picture will emerge sooner or later and that’s it – you will lose comrades and fast. Even if it is not prudent to tell all that you know, it would be erroneous to talk of the unknown as though it’s known, to treat conjecture as fact and so on.

Keeping things real, then, is important. That’s basic. You can build from there. Here’s something that might help you along. Humor.

Someone once said ‘man was given an imagination to compensate for what he is not, a sense of humor to console him for what he is’. Down days are days where some consolation is required and there’s no console-medicine that works as well as humor does, it can be argued.

There is a man who called himself Subcommandante Marcos. He was the spokesperson for the EZLN (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional or Zapatista Army of National Liberation (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, often referred to as the Zapatistas) who gained prominence in the late nineties for his sharp, insightful and even hilarious communiqués. His communiqués are on the internet and are classics in the art of pamphleteering not just for style but content, the attention to details and the particularities of the political moment commented on as well as understanding of the wide sweep of history, the ways of oppressor and oppression, economic as well as cultural. He drew heavily from things traditional, especially from the EZLN’s political home, Chiapas of Mexico and the indigenous people of that continent.

Now Marcos, among his other exceptional qualities, had the ability to laugh at himself. He conjured a dung beetle whom he called ‘Durito’ with whom he created amazing conversations which he ‘transcribed’ into his various communiqués. I believe those ‘conversations’ are now collected in a book. There was one classic Durito-moment when the rather serious and politically astute dung beetle described a particularly ‘down moment’ as ‘strategic retreat’. Marcos’ version was on the lines of ‘fleeing with tail between the legs’. That’s funny. That’s also a lesson.

There are ways to say the ‘as is’. Many ways. Inject a little humor and it cleans the blood streams. Makes things more palatable. Lifts spirits. Turns desperate individuals lined up at a border and ready to enter a country called Capitulation think twice. That might make a big difference. Humor does that, at times.

Yala is a call for meditation

It rained upstream one morning…

What waters will take them where tomorrow?

The Bar lowers itself

The UNP’s abdication-fixation

Upul Jayasuriya un-knots himself

Mahinda, Maithripala and their Money-Pestos

Let’s dissect the Sahodara Samaagama

Victory is a curse with many dimensions

Most Innovative Awareness Campaign of the Year 2015

When a nation is hung on a hook called ‘it is said’…

Citizen of the Year 2014

Patriots in act and not label

Pack in ‘Humor’ when you collect rebellion-essentials

John Traicos might have not tried Del but we certainly should

Maybe we should respect the dust we walk on

Let us vote for grace and humility

Mahinda vs Maithree in an ideal election

Have a free lunch on Election Day!

Maithripala's Victory Speech (Draft)