The schism in the ruling cabal and the departure of Sarath Fonseka has caused a sea change in Sri Lankan politics Photo by Sudath Silva

By Tisaranee Gunasekara

“A plague ‘o both your houses” — Shakespeare (Romeo And Juliet)

A leader hailed as a King; a family occupying the state; a regime suppressing its political opponents under cover of national security; a country at war with itself, divided along patriot vs. anti-patriot lines; a society intoxicated with triumphalism to the point of amorality; a gargantuan defence budget; spy units run by the Presidential Secretariat under the guise of countering corruption; hundreds of thousands of civilians extra-legally incarcerated in internment camps for three years; minority parties banned… This was the Sri Lanka the Rajapaksas aimed to create, post-war. If this project of radically reshaping Sri Lanka is in abeyance today, it is not because the Rajapaksas have abandoned their Shangri La, but because of a fortuitous confluence of factors, a lacerating split in the ruling bloc foremost among them.

Periodic, multi-party elections are necessary correctives in pluralist democracies. In Sri Lanka, thanks to the endemic weakness of the opposition and its consequent inability to pose a real challenge to the regime, elections were becoming devoid of the capacity to function as instruments of (regime or policy) change. Had Ranil Wickremesinghe been the main challenger to Mahinda Rajapaksa, the upcoming presidential election too would have been a purely nominal contest with a foregone conclusion. Given Wickremesinghe’s unparalleled record of serial defeats, President Rajapaksa would not have felt sufficiently challenged to moderate his mode of governance in order to woo the electorate. The Ruling Family would have thought, and rightly so, that the patriotic card will suffice to ensure a substantial win for its candidate, in a contest depicted as a straight fight between the President who defeated the LTTE and the Leader of Opposition who appeased the LTTE.

The schism in the ruling cabal and the acrimonious departure of General Sarath Fonseka caused a sea change in Lankan politics. Barring a last minute snag (and such snags are not impossible) Gen. Fonseka, the Commander who led the Lankan Army to victory, will be President Rajapaksa’s main challenger. In consequence, the presidential election will be transformed from a cakewalk (for the ruling party) to an explosive political war, from which neither candidate will emerge unscathed. Whatever the final outcome of the election, both contenders are likely to end up with their images badly tarnished, as the deeds done together, under cover of darkness, are revealed. When the country gets a glimpse of the common clay beneath the laurels of the victor and the steel of the hero, at least a segment of the populace may come to recognise the venal desires that are hidden behind those inflammable appeals to country, nation and religion.

The Rajapaksa Vision

The recent SLFP Convention indicated what the country can expect if Mahinda Rajapaksa wins the presidential election with a wide margin and the UPFA succeeds in getting a two thirds majority in parliament (or a win close enough). In his welcoming address, Minister Maitripala Sirisena declared that President Rajapaksa will lead this country for the next 20 years. Juxtapose this declaration with Rajapaksa’s intention to reform the presidential system (announced at his recent meeting with media heads) and the inescapable conclusion is a constitutional reform which will keep the presidential system in place while removing the most democratic component in it – the provision on term limits.

This is the only way President Rajapaksa can lead the country for the next 20 years (it is important to remember that according to a prediction by the de facto official astrologer of the regime, the Rajapaksas will rule the country for many years and the constitutional reform which permits this elongated reign – via the removal of presidential term limits — will happen in 2010).

The SLFP Convention was a blatant propaganda exercise which strove to establish two interrelated points. The first was that the credit for defeating the LTTE should accrue to Mahinda Rajapaksa and none other. The second was that Mahinda Rajapaksa is Sri Lanka and, consequently, fidelity to him is the new patriotism. Songs, orations, a short film and a gymnastic display were used at this extravaganza (believed to have cost the state Rs. 9 million), to drive home this central message. Implicit in this message is the metamorphosis of Sarath Fonseka from hero to traitor, and his consequent unfitness to reap any politico-electoral rewards from the victory over the LTTE (despite his key role in it). This is what the President meant when he said that the patriot of yesterday can become the traitor of tomorrow, if he joins the ‘anti-national, anti-patriotic’ opposition – as General Fonseka is about to do.

After he won the presidential election of 1982, J.R. Jayewardene wanted to rule, untrammeled by elections or any other democratic restraints, for a decade. The 1982 referendum was held to facilitate this objective via the perpetuation of the UNP’s five-sixth majority in parliament. Jayewardene had already disabled the opposition and broken the back of the trade unions; in 1983, using the Black July as the excuse, he banned the JVP, which had shifted onto an anti-government track. He seemed to have envisaged a constitutional amendment, granting him a third term. But the measures he implemented to establish absolutist rule had a putrefactive effect on the polity and the economy; the resultant crises undermined his project, forcing him to abandon power in order to save the system. There is no doubt that, sans the First Eelam War, the Second JVP Insurgency and Indian intervention, President Jayewardene would have continued to impose an anti-democratic and intolerant rule on Sri Lanka, well beyond 1988.

Rajapaksa first country

The plan to turn Sri Lanka into a Sinhala First and Rajapaksa First country has hit a snag not because the Rajapaksas have undergone a change of heart (the SLFP Convention clearly demonstrated that the Rajapaksas’ belief in their own right to rule remains intact) but because of extrinsic factors, from the break up in the ruling cabal to international pressure. The regime’s sudden liberality towards the incarcerated IDPs is an excellent case in point. Their resettlement is being speeded up and the remaining IDPs promised freedom of movement, as a function of international pressure in general and the need to save the GSP+ in particular. Losing the GSP+ would have mattered little, had Ranil Wickremesinghe been President Rajapaksa’s main contender. But given the emergence of the Fonseka factor, the government cannot afford to lose the GSP+ in the midst of a closely fought election.

Though the Fonseka candidacy can become a formidable threat to the Rajapaksas, they can still recover from it and move towards establishing dynastic rule. If Rajapaksa can win the presidential election in the first round with a sufficiently wide margin, if he can prevent his image from becoming too tarnished in the propaganda skirmishes which will precede the polls, he may yet be able to guide the UPFA to a substantial victory at the parliamentary elections. If the common opposition candidate suffers a heavy loss, the parties backing him will become enmeshed in the usual blame game; and their internecine squabbles would make it easier for the UPFA to impose a crushing defeat on them at the parliamentary polls.

Rajapaksa also has the advantage of incumbency which he will not hesitate to use to the point of abuse in ensuring his victory. The opposition, on the other hand, can use the regime’s current vulnerability to international pressure to ensure the presence of election monitors, not just from the SAARC but also from the EU. If the presidential election can be pushed into a second round, that in itself would deal a serious blow to the political ambitions of the Rajapaksas, irrespective of the final outcome of the polls.

The Fonseka Dilemma

When he was a member of the ruling triumvirate, when he had the power to abuse power in the name of national security, Gen. Fonseka was as absolutist, as intolerant, as Sinhala supremacist as the Rajapaksa Brothers. Had the Rajapaksa-Fonseka triumvirate remained intact, post-war, nothing could have impeded the full implementation of the profoundly anti-democratic political project of the Ruling Family. The opposition was too weak and the judiciary too passive to act as effective deterrents to the megalomanic plans of the Rajapaksas. Only a split either in the Rajapaksa Family or in the ruling bloc could have impeded the Rajapaksas’ rapid goose-stepping towards absolutist rule. The Rajapaksa – Fonseka break-up and the consequent entry of General Fonseka into politics as an opponent of the Ruling Family has given Sri Lanka’s internally threatened democracy a modicum of relief.

But to see in the Fonseka candidacy a panacea for all the ills of Rajapaksa rule would be another monumental mistake. Whatever promises Candidate Fonseka might make, no individual or entity can compel a President Fonseka to implement them. If he wins the presidency, General Fonseka can repudiate his promises outright or follow a policy of permanent prevarication; or he can implement the promises selectively. Most Lankan parliamentarians are open to blandishments by those in power.  Therefore a President Fonseka might be able to build his own independent power base by winning over parliamentarians elected on the SLFP, the UNP or the JVP ticket. He will also be able to appeal to a section of the Armed Forces; if he wins, the Sinhala supremacist forces may be more than willing to abandon the Rajapaksas and rally round him. Therefore there is a distinct possibility of a victorious General Fonseka trying to implement his own agenda, an agenda at variance with his pre-election undertakings. And if he does so, there is very little the UNP or the JVP can realistically do to impede him and hold him to his promises.

General Fonseka’s volte face clearly demonstrates the fluidity with which alliances can become decomposed and recomposed in Sri Lanka. Under changed circumstances, these new alliances too can be unmade and remade, with equally opportunistic rapidity. After all, the major players in the government as well as in the opposition are motivated not by principles or ideology but by personal factors, such as greed and anger, pique and revenge. They will act, not in the best interests of the country, but in pursuit of their paltry personal agendas. Consequently a Fonseka victory at the presidential election can be tantamount to rushing headlong into an unknown and unknowable territory. The JVP, which has a history of backing presidential candidates from other parties only to have them reneging on the promises made, post-polls, is well placed to comprehend the dangers inherent in a successful Fonseka candidacy. A President Fonseka going his own way will be as bad as a Rajapaksa presidency (if not worse).

The most positive aspect about a Fonseka candidacy is not its potential to win the presidency but its potential to fatally damage the aura of the Rajapaksas and via that impede the realisation of the Rajapaksa project. The charges and the counter-charges that will become a staple in this election campaign might make ordinary Sri Lankans realise that in the eyes of their rulers (current and aspirant), patriotism ‘is nothing less than a tool for achieving their power hungry and money hungry goals’ (Christianity And Patriotism – Leo Tolstoy). These propaganda skirmishes may also reveal to the country and the world some badly needed truths about war crimes in the north and abductions and assassinations in the south. If, as a result of a Fonseka candidacy, some light is shed on these hidden crimes and atrocities, democracy may gain a modicum of strength from the presidential poll, irrespective of who wins it.