Jayewardene stood alone. He never lost an election, ruling
for eleven years on the strength of his wit, cunning and ruthless suppression of
opposition forces. Historians looking back dispassionately see his first four years in
office as a sunlit renaissance, the remainder nothing more than the desperate strivings of
an ageing megalomaniac to cling to power, and through power, life itself. Imagining
himself all-powerful, Jayewardene left the country in chaos on his retirement in 1988,
with the north in the hands of the LTTE, the east with the IPKF and the south with the JVP
which, having branded unjustly as naxalites, he alienated from the mainstream of politics.
As long as memories survive in this land, Jayewardene's shameful abuse of the democratic
process, using the 1982 referendum to extend the life of the parliament in which he
enjoyed a five-sixths majority, will go down in ignominy.
But it is not our intention to engage in a discourse on the evil of the past. It is
merely a reminder that president's house was a venue of shameful intrigue well before
Chandrika Kumaratunga darkened its doors. What is more, where Jayewardene engaged in
shameful and petty intrigues against his perceived enemies, Kumaratunga has transcended
his legacy by an order of magnitude. Shame that, for Kumaratunga knew full well in seeking
office that it was the evil of the Jayewardene administration that she sought to erase.
Her polemical attacks on the UNP she sought to dislodge were aimed more at Jayewardene
than his successor Premadasa, and only incidentally against Wijetunga.
Given this background, it is bizarre that the president, rather than moulding her
administration to address the wrongs of the past, takes criminal activity to new heights.
Thanks to the bewildering inefficiency of the UNF government, Kumaratunga continues to
enjoy the unfettered power the presidency offers her. Now, just two months after her
defeat, officials who swam briskly away from her sinking ship are beginning to swim back.
The spectre of this Joan of Arc who lost not just an eye but a father and a husband in the
battle for her motherland's freedom, is beginning once more to twang the chords of
sympathy that lie latent in Sri Lankan hearts. And the UNF's dismal impotence to bring
this mother of falsehood to book has strengthened the PA's resolve that it can and will
win back power come December 5, 2002.
We have often referred to Chandrika Kumaratunga as a liar, for that she is. We have
produced evidence to show convincingly that she not only knew the identities of the
murderers of Kumar Ponnambalam, but actively shielded them. Last week we produced
convincing evidence to show that she is a cheat, for her backdating a letter to the
director general of customs, asking him to relax the forfeiture of a luxury vehicle
illegally imported by the wife of PA MP Arjuna Ranatunga is nothing short of cheating.
Consider the facts. With Ratnasiri Wickremanayake's resignation as prime minister on
December 6, the cabinet stood dissolved; the new cabinet was sworn in, with K. N. Choksy
as finance minister on December 12. Then, a full six days later, Kumaratunga shoots off a
letter backdated December 4, to Director General of Customs Jagath Gunaratne, advising him
of the waiver. It has been established that the letter reached the customs department only
on December 18. Gunaratne's construction of this however, is that the letter may have been
lying on the president's desk for well nigh two weeks. This however, is pressing the
public's credibility a bit too much. What is more, Gunaratne has failed to explain why it
is that he acted on what was clearly a politically motivated favour without first checking
with the new minister of finance. The only redeeming feature in this act of duplicity by
the president is the decision of Finance Minister K. N. Choksy to call for a full scale
investigation into the incident, no doubt with the intention of holding the president
responsible for her act of cheating.
For her part, Kumaratunga has committed an offence under Section 168 of the penal code
by pretending to act as the minister of finance by backdating a letter written in that
executive capacity well after she ceased to hold that post. Section 168 states:
"Whoever pretends to hold any particular office, as a public servant, knowing that he
does not hold such office, or falsely personates any other person holding such office, and
in such assumed character does or attempts to do any act under cover of such office, shall
be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to two
years, or with fine, or with both."
The people of Sri Lanka voted for the UNF last December with great hopes in their
hearts. The UNF's inability to take steps to bring Chandrika Kumaratunga to book has been
a stinging disappointment to many. It is not a question of taking revenge, it is a
question of asserting the truth that all citizens of this country are subject to law. If
the UNF government lacks the resolve and the courage to take Chandrika Kumaratunga
head-on, it should, in the style of J. R. Jayewardene, adopt less obvious means. One
possibility is to abolish the executive presidency itself, to which, given that the PA and
JVP have already given their commitment, there is no obstacle.
For her part, the only quandary that faces Kumaratunga, given the UNF's pusillanimity,
is how best to structure the opposition so that she could lead it back into power. With
Ratnasiri Wickremanayake bowing out, the choice that faces her is to hand it down to her
brother and maintain the family's grip on succession but risk losing the support of her
party, or to call on Mahinda Rajapakse, waiting in the wings, and end her dynastic hopes
right there. But a third choice is also open to Kumaratunga, who could appoint a lame duck
opposition leader such as Richard Pathirana and in effect lead the opposition herself.
Armed with Section 32(3) of the constitution, which gives her the right to "attend
and address" parliament, she could well sit in the front row of the opposition
benches and use her formidable debating skills and charisma to put the government to
shame.
The options open to both Wickremesinghe and Kumaratunga are many. However, in their
conduct of business, it is almost as if the roles of victor and vanquished have been
reversed. Kumaratunga carries on unbowed, plotting the return of her party to office. For
his part, Wickremesinghe is almost apologetic that the UNF defeated her. "So sorry we
won", seems to be his motto. Whether this noble attitude will see his government
survive its first year is something on which bookmakers are even now accepting bets at
current odds.