Rajapak-son has some peculiar friends

Dynasties have to start somewhere. For an aspiring Gandhi in India, or a Bhutto in Pakistan, exploiting the family name to get into politics is relatively simple.
Getting a dynasty going in the first place is more testing.
Sri Lanka’s President since 2005, Mahinda Rajapaksa, is evidently giving the matter some thought. His government is already dominated by several Rajapaksa brothers, including a fierce one, Gotabaya, who oversees defence, and a more nimble-minded one, Basil, who runs economic policy. Now the 65 year-old President, who last month denied a rumour that he was being treated for cancer, is increasingly eager to promote his son, Namal Rajapaksa.
The 24-year-old MP is frequently taken on foreign trips by his father. In January he was dispatched to Libya to deliver a formal invitation for Muammar Gaddafi to visit Sri Lanka, to improve the “strong personal relationship” between the two countries’ leaders.
At home excuses are rustled up to keep him in the limelight. Last month he dispensed the man-of-the-match award at Sri Lanka’s opening game of the Cricket World Cup, which took place in a newly built stadium in — by happy coincidence — his own constituency, Hambantota, in the south of the country. A few days earlier the portly young politician had been shown laying a foundation stone for a new office complex, funded by the Asian Development Bank; just before that he was named chairman of a new fund to protect a forest and an ancient pink quartz mountain range, the National Namal Uyana.
He is on hand to inaugurate new bridges and roads. As the head of a national body, Tharunyata Hetak (“Aspiring Youth”), he is whisked north — a chopper is usually on call — to dish out cash, books and other aid to victims of the civil war. His group has its own television channel, which shows him doing the dishing. He enjoys fawning — sorry, perceptive — coverage from state press and broadcasters.
His year-long political career has been charmed. His constituency, a Rajapaksa family stronghold since the 1930s, has been chosen as the site of a new international airport, a conference centre, hotels and other big projects. In November he officiated with his father at the opening of a large, Chinese-built harbour in Hambantota. Now young Mr. Rajapaksa, charming, London-educated and fond of rugby, is leading a bid for Hambantota to host the 2018 Commonwealth Games.
A presidential change will not happen overnight. Mr. Rajapaksa père remains popular among the Sinhalese majority for helping to force a decisive, brutal end to a civil war two years ago. He won a thumping re-election last year and has since pushed through constitutional changes that give him more clout and let him seek a third term, probably at an election in 2016. But preparing the son looks to be a form of insurance policy.
The opposition is hoping for a ruling family feud, as the son vies with his uncle to be heir-apparent (Basil had previously been touted as a successor). But Namal’s promotion may suit the whole family. It must fend off accusations that thousands of Tamil Tiger opponents and civilians were massacred at the dreadful climax of the war. Frequent foreign demands for an inquiry, and an attempt by the United Nations to launch one, have soured Western relations with Sri Lanka.
Patching up foreign ties and reconciliation with the aggrieved Tamils are the most important tasks facing Sri Lanka’s rulers. These are much harder while Mahinda remains the face of government. If the Rajapaksas want a dynasty preserved for many years, preparing the way for a young insider, untainted by any role in the war, could be the family’s canniest strategy.

Courtesy The Economist

“His smiling picture is everywhere…. He’s given his name to all the squares….
He’s burned the last soothsayer — Who failed to kneel before the idol….
From the Caribbean to China’s Great Wall — The dictator-dragon is being cloned.”
— Abd al-Wahhab al-Bayyati (The Dragon)

Mahinda Rajapaksa — Nothing short of total control will do

Thursday’s local government election marks a key milestone in the Rajapaksa project of establishing total familial control over the state, the army and the SLFP.
The election took place in a context totally advantageous to the regime. The 18th Amendment had tilted the electoral-field firmly in its favour. The opposition is in unprecedented disarray. Polling took place mostly in rural/suburban areas where the Rajapaksas enjoy considerable popularity. Elections for all municipal councils were postponed, to save the UPFA from a humiliating defeat in Colombo. The governing coalition ignored election laws with impunity and abused state power and resources at will.
Defeat was impossible under such conditions.
And yet, instead of taking the election in their stride, the Rajapaksas campaigned with manic energy. This poll, though unimportant as an electoral battle, was of immense significance as a political contestation. What was at stake was not just power at the local government level but also the Rajapaksas’ capacity to maintain their hegemony in the South, including within the SLFP. A less-than-total win would weaken the Ruling Family’s standing in the country and loosen its grip on the SLFP. A stunning victory would enhance the ‘Rajapaksa magic’ and convince rank and file SLFPers to shift their allegiance unreservedly from the Bandaranaike-dynasty to the Rajapaksa-dynasty.
So the President and his siblings spearheaded the election campaign while senior SLFPers were reduced to a barely visible ancillary role. Under Rajapaksa tutelage, the campaign became a hot-war against the opposition and a cold-war against the remaining pockets of (passive) resistance to Rajapaksa Rule within the SLFP. The main focus was on Hambantota, the traditional Rajapaksa fiefdom and Gampaha, the former Bandaranaike stronghold, which Basil Rajapaksa is intent on taking over. Interestingly, Brother Basil, rather than First Son Namal, functioned as the second-in-command to the President, demonstrating that this is still Rajapaksa Brothers Inc. (though it may metamorphose into Rajapaksa and Sons Inc. someday.) The campaign also debunked persistent rumours about a major ‘fall-out’ within the Ruling Family. There would be differences of opinion among various members of the family, as well as incompatibilities created by competitive personal agendas (for instance, between Uncle Basil and Nephew Namal). But these are mere ‘tiffs’ of no strategic import and do not prevent genuine unity in defence of the overall Familial Project.

A Dysfunctional Society

Despots want their people to become permanent navel-gazers. A despot’s utopia is a society in which people live in their own petty private worlds surrounded by massive psychological ramparts. Milton Meyer has pointed out that non-interference was what the Nazis wanted from ordinary Germans: “Absolutely nothing was expected of them except to go on as they had paying their taxes, reading their local paper and listening to the radio” (They Thought They were Free). Similarly the Rajapaksas want nothing more from Sri Lankans than passive, silent acquiescence to their rule. Their ideal is an accommodationist mindset, characterised by indifference and apathy, and a temperament which ignores even the most obvious injustices because of a deep-seated belief that ‘nothing can be done’. A Rajapaksa landslide at the election will etch this deadly and deadening fatalism ever more deeply into the collective Southern-psyche by making long term Rajapaksa Rule seem even more of a fait accompli than before.
Despots prefer dysfunctional societies purged of natural compassion and human solidarity, especially across primordial or political barriers. They compel people to focus on dividing lines rather than on unifying factors, thereby reducing drastically the politico-psychological space for common vision and common action. The Rajapaksas would want their Southern base to believe that their draconian policies towards civilian Tamils or Colombo’s poor are correct. They would want the Sinhalese to be indifferent to the forced registration of Tamils, the non-poor to be indifferent to mass eviction of the poor and the well-fed to be indifferent to the fact that 20% of Lankan children are undernourished.
The Rajapaksas would regard with paranoia the idea of oppositional unity across ethnic, religious and class lines on the basis of political freedom and socio-economic justice (a project of politico-social liberalism in contradistinction to economic neo-liberalism). Their counter is Sinhala Supremacism masquerading as patriotism; and resurrecting the dead Tiger periodically to keep ethnic over determination alive.
A key lesson of Arab revolutions is the decisive role of the military. If the army is not a national entity but the security force of the Ruling Family, it does not cavil at reacting with overwhelming violence to unarmed protests. Such an army would either crush a peaceful uprising immediately or cause it to change its peaceful character and become violent, by compelling protestors to arm themselves in sheer self-defence. The regime can then characterise the revolution as a civil war and drown it in a blood-tide, as Muammar Gaddafi is doing in Libya. The Libyan Army (unlike the armies in Egypt and Tunisia and even in Bahrain) is not a national entity but a mere praetorian guard for the Gaddafi Family. This is no accident but the outcome of deliberate policy; during his 42 year rule, Gaddafi destroyed the relative autonomy of the Libyan Army and turned it into his personal tool.
In Sri Lanka, the process of Rajapaksising the Armed Forces is well underway. The siblings have deployed for this purpose their signature carrot-and-stick policy, symbolised in the contrasting fates of Gen. Sarath Fonseka and Gen. Shavendra Silva. Gen. Fonseka is a prisoner in Welikada jail, while Gen. Silva is in New York, as Sri Lanka’s Deputy Permanent Ambassador to the UN. The message these antipodal ends send to every serving or retired officer is as unmistakable as the message sent by the pre-emptive sacking of Mangala Samaraweera to SLFP seniors – no one is big enough to escape the wrath of the Rajapaksas.
Total, unquestioning loyalty to the Ruling Family is the only option available to those who want to avoid trouble and get ahead in life. Mussolini defined his fascist model as “All within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state”. ‘All within the Family, nothing outside the Family, nothing against the Family’ is the Rajapaksa ethos.
Despots believe that their rule represent the end of history. But a day comes when the promise of bread, the reality of expensive circuses and the fear of barbarians at the gate cease to suffice. The Rajapaksa Rule will last for a while, but this ‘low dishonest decade’ (or decades) will end someday. The democracy tsunami cannot be confined to the Arab World, nor will Sri Lanka be immune to the democratic Zeitgeist of the new century. The Rajapaksas have already begun to prepare for this future danger by working diligently to erase the line of demarcation between the Ruling Family and the Armed Forces. Their aim would be to turn the Lankan military into their praetorian guard, a debased force which will not balk at mowing down unarmed and peaceful Sinhala protestors.

Cristovam Buarque

With little fanfare and away from the limelight, the emerging South American powerhouse, Brazil, is in the process of doing something we in Sri Lanka could only look on with envy.
It is in the process of enacting legislation incorporating “pursuit of happiness” into Article 6 of the Constitution, which states that education, health, food, work, housing, leisure and security – among others – are the rights of all citizens. The Bill, commonly referred to as the ‘Happiness Law’ is now before Brazil’s Congress.
If a Brazilian were to come to Sri Lanka and have the misfortune of either watching the state TV news or reading a state run newspaper he would end up a very confused man. For, he would begin to wonder if Brazil’s law makers are wasting their time when Sri Lanka, the land like no other, has absolutely no issues when it comes to education, health, food, work, housing, leisure and security, without any ‘happiness law’ in its statute books. However this Brazilian only needs to step out to the corner shop or hop in to a trishaw to realise that reality is quite something else.
Back in Brazil, a senator and former minister of education, Cristovam Buarque who is the ‘Happiness Bill’s’ sponsor in the senate, believes that enshrining “pursuit of happiness” in the country’s constitution is essential to helping ordinary people begin holding to account governments that have long been accused of ignoring the poor. In recent times though, the gap between the rich and the poor has shrunk and it could be argued that Buarque’s endeavour has come a little late in the day, at least in Brazil.
Elsewhere in the world, South Korea, Japan and Bhutan have included the ‘right to happiness’ in their constitutions. In the US the 1776 Declaration of Independence refers to, among other things… “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
Brazil today is booming. Brazil is to South America what China is to Asia. Back in 2003 the global investment bank Goldman Sachs, selected Brazil, along with Russia, India and China, as one of four “BRICs” — the developing countries that would share dominance of the world economy by 2050. The acronym ‘BRIC’ is made up of the first letter of each of these four countries. Last year South Africa was invited to join the group and with the entry of the African nation the acronym has now changed to BRICS.
Brazil is set to be the world’s fifth largest economy by the time it hosts the 2016 Olympics. Brazil has much to celebrate by way of economic accomplishments in the recent past and if Mahinda Rajapaksa was the president of Brazil one can only imagine what the daily ‘news bulletins’ would be like. Notwithstanding the daily dose of ‘happiness’ dished out by the state media, in Sri Lanka, despite the relentless ‘coverage’ of the frenzied bidding to host the Commonwealth Games two years after Brazil hosts the Olympics, the key aspects that are supposed to provide happiness at least to Brazilians – education, health, food, work, housing, leisure and security are all in tatters save the last two, thanks to the end of the war in the case of leisure, and in the aspect of security, as ironic as it may seem, thanks largely to the war machinery built up over three decades. Let’s briefly analyse how we in Sri Lanka fare with what Brazil is looking at to make its citizens happy.
It does not take a genius to point out that the education system in Sri Lanka is in a mess. Only a fraction of Advanced Level qualified students get into university and once they graduate no one wants to employ them because they lack basic job-related skills, not least among them, the ability to use the English language. As a result, qualified graduates end up in mediocre jobs purely due to financial compulsions – where ‘something’ is considered as better than ‘nothing.’ Could these youth be considered as being happy?
The health sector in the country is a scandal generator with one scandal following the other, and only outnumbered by the number of strikes in the sector. Though the state health bill is enormous, state hospitals more often than not are short of essential medicines. What is available are at times found to be past the expiry date and patients are ordered to purchase their medicines from ‘outside.’ Could these patients be considered as being happy with the status quo?
On the matter of food, with the present sky rocketing cost of living, the less said about it the better. Malnutrition is likely to be a serious issue in the not too distant future with the average Sri Lankan, notwithstanding Central Bank Governor Nivard Cabraal’s per capita income of US $ 2000, drastically cutting down on the quantity and quality of the food they consume in order to manage with their shrinking food budgets. Can these people be considered as being happy?
On the work front, the jobless rate is nowhere near satisfactory with unemployment nudging two digit levels despite the government embarking on numerous mega projects that call for massive manpower. The stumbling block seems to be the influx of foreign labour to carry out most of these mega projects, which are more or less Chinese, or Indian funded.
Chinese labourers, who number in their thousands, working at projects like the Hambantota Port, Norochcholai power complex, the Cultural Centre in Colombo and even the BMICH renovation among others are kept well hidden from the public eye so as to avoid the ire of the unemployed, whose pastime is often protesting about their plight.
For this particular reason the thousands of Chinese and Indian workers – like those working on the southern and northern rail projects are consigned to self-sustaining colonies that ensure little or no interaction with the local communities. The only foreign workers visible are the Chinese females engaged in extra-casino activities in Colombo.
It appears that the government’s strategy seems to be ‘out of sight – out of mind,’ so the thousands of foreign workers are kept hidden.  It probably is this same strategy that drove it to black out coverage of the momentous events that took place in Tunisia and Egypt – where state TV never showed a single protest.
Does it then mean that the ordinary people, who faithfully watch only Rupavahini are unaware of the events taking place in the Middle East where one corrupt regime after another are facing mounting protests? Does it also mean that this category of people who are fed a daily diet of ‘happy news’ are indeed happy people who will not have to go the Brazilian way and seek happiness through recourse to the law?
The poor in the city are finding out that housing for them is turning into a nightmare with UDA bulldozers turning up at their doorstep with increasing regularity. All that these people demand is decent alternate housing but in most cases, so far the UDA is only willing to provide a ‘rent allowance’ for one year. Can these people be counted as happy?
Sri Lanka’s leisure industry has priced itself out for the local tourist. No longer can the average middle class family afford a holiday vacation at a decent hotel – the hotels, big and small – are all greedily grabbing the dollar-wielding tourists. Can these average middle class families be considered happy?
Though the war may be over and national security is at a heightened level, personal security of citizens is at an all time low with crimes being committed with impunity. Rarely can a citizen expect the police to act on a complaint impartially and deliver results. All manner of crimes are being committed but the perpetrators are rarely caught. The police are known to tell a complainant ‘catch the offender and bring,’ advertising in the process, the institutional lethargy that has set in to the police. Can the thousands of complainants who have received little or no redress to their grievances be considered happy people?
Brazillians by nature are a fun loving, happy people. It is a nation known world over for its indulgent and relentless partying in high-spirits, the climax being the Rio Carnival – the biggest party on Planet Earth.
Its economy is top of the pops; yet, the country’s parliamentarians want the pursuit of happiness to be an inalienable right of every citizen, and included in the country’s law. We in Sri Lanka, on the other hand, have seen the basic rights that makes its citizens happy, like those listed above – education, health, food, work, housing, leisure and security – being systematically taken away. All considered could we be termed a happy people?
We certainly claim to be so, while going in the opposite direction to Brazil. As to who is on the right track only time will tell.

President Rajapaksa hoists the national flag in Kataragama, Friday (4)

On Friday, the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka celebrated its 63rd year of independence from Britain. But if one were to critically look back on these past 63 years of so called freedom, the record isn’t anything worthy of celebration.
During this relatively brief period of 63 years of freedom in a country that boasts of a documented history of 2500 years, there have been dozens of assassinations of the country’s leaders beginning with Prime Minister S.W.R.D Bandaranaike in 1956. There have been riots – both racial and others at regular intervals, there have been two bloody insurgencies, a failed coup, a civil war that dragged on for 30 years and general mayhem and chaos thrust on a docile people by unscrupulous politicians.
With such a horrendous background, this is as good a time as any to analyse our collective ‘freedom balance sheet’ – to see whether we, the ordinary people, are better off today ‘freedom-wise’ as opposed to February 3, 1948.
Five cornerstones of any modern democracy are freedom to vote for a candidate of your choice, freedom of expression, freedom of movement, transparency in governance, and rule of law. Lets us now analyse how 63 years of independence have impacted on these.

Freedom to vote for a candidate of your choice

Sri Lanka was one of the first countries in Asia to receive adult franchise, way back in 1931. Pre Independence elections were fairytale affairs compared to the murder and mayhem that are ingrained in present day elections. Sri Lanka’s saving grace has been the conduct of elections ‘on time,’ save for two instances – Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s infamous ‘extension’ in 1975 and J.R. Jayewardene’s equally infamous referendum of 1982.
Although on paper the conducting of elections may seem well and good, a closer look at elections conducted after 1994 leaves much to be desired. At every subsequent election — the Wayamba provincial poll of 1999 comes to mind in a flash – the people have been systematically robbed of their right to vote for a candidate of their choice.
Every election since this notorious episode – there have been four general elections, three presidential elections and numerous provincial and local government elections – has been tainted with allegations of vote rigging. This never happened pre-independence. If it did the perpetrators would have had to pay dearly, with an unforgiving public insisting on the highest standards being maintained.
Today it is the opposite. Those who resort to thuggery and manipulation end up the winners and call the shots. Today we have an Elections Commissioner who hates his job and couldn’t care less, having wanted to retire almost a decade ago but prevented from doing so by a President who though he solemnly pledged to send him on retirement in 2005, has not done so for reasons best known to him.
Under the earlier 17th Amendment and now the 18th Amendment to the Constitution, an Independent Elections Commission should be overseeing elections in this country, but the President has persistently prevented the setting up of this Commission, and elections continue to be flawed with election laws openly flouted.
Today we have a scenario where even ministers exhort the public not to vote for ‘rogues.’
Senior Minister D.E.W. Gunasekara last week noted that he finds it intriguing that candidates spend millions on campaigns to get elected to earn a salary of Rs. 25,000 – an ‘investment’ they could never recover in the five year term. Pre 1948 such spending would have resulted in a police investigation as to the source of income. Today the police are part of the problem.
So in the final analysis when it comes to the freedom to vote for a candidate of your choice, we were much better off pre independence than today. Let’s debit our freedom balance sheet.

Freedom of expression

The last five years under President Mahinda Rajapaksa have been the darkest period for journalists in this country. Post independence journalists have periodically been at the receiving end and even had to pay the supreme price, but never on the scale and intensity we witness today.
It would not be incorrect to say that freedom of expression has been dealt a fatal blow and is now on life support, waiting for the inevitable. Journalists are societies’ eyes and ears. When these eyes and ears are shut society is ‘disabled.’ Today we have a disabled society, which due to mortal fear also censors itself. No one will say anything uncomplimentary about the government in public without first looking over his shoulder and telling the listener, ‘don’t tell anyone I said this….’
Pre independence the media was the vibrant forum where the war for independence was fought, not on any battlefield. No one died and no one got hurt when this war ended on February 4, 1948 except for a few bruised egos. In addition election battles also took place within the pages of the then Lake House publications, The Times of Ceylon, etc., but they were cultured, civilised battles where all parties in the fray gave as they got and there was space for all. No one complained.
Can one by any stretch of the imagination say the same today? Leave alone journalists, can an ordinary man today speak out against the government, let’s say at Galle Face, and expect not to be taken to the fourth floor of the CID?
As such, when it comes to freedom of expression, we were much better off pre independence than today. Let’s debit our freedom balance sheet again.

Freedom of movement

Sri Lanka, then Ceylon, was one big playground for children and adults alike in the carefree pre-independence era. Children could wander along the lanes they lived without the fear of being abducted or abused. There were hardly any boundary walls and the gates were always open. People could travel from one corner of the island to the other without a second thought. Politicians could be seen traveling with the ordinary people in buses and trains. Roads were never closed unless for maintenance purposes.
Let’s fast forward to today. No parent with his/her mental faculties in a proper state will allow their children out of the gate unsupervised. Where there were no walls, today there are walls. Where there were walls, today there are higher walls. Gates are never left open, but are double locked with security cameras installed. One cannot travel from one corner of the island to the other without proper ID documents as per the ethnicity. In addition there is many a security barrier to pass through.
Politicians using public transport is today consigned to distant history. Present day politicians instead of using public transport, use public money to buy themselves the most luxurious vehicles free of duty and close down roads so that they can cruise unhindered in ultimate comfort, with a convoy of ‘security vehicles’ in hot pursuit. Even the most unheard of minister among the hundred at present, resorts to this ‘security’ excuse to travel in a luxury convoy when no terrorist would think of wasting even a catapult ‘bullet’ on these wannabes.
Besides, despite the end of the war almost two years ago, many parts remain no go zones for ordinary citizens.
So, when it comes to freedom of movement, we were much better off pre independence than today. Let’s debit our freedom balance sheet again.

Transparency in governance

Today transparency in governance is limited to wishful thinking. In the pre independence era an ordinary citizen could write to a head of department and then expect a reply in his post box in less than a week. No issue was too big and no issue was too small. The reply would be in the mailbox and the promised action would actually be carried out. Bribes were unheard of. If bribes were offered the bribe giver would land in jail in no time.
Public accounts were just that, public. Any citizen could check and query anything he wanted to.
Today we have a Public Accounts Committee that is confined to a name board. Accounts of public entities remain unaudited for years. No one cares and no one bothers. If someone does care, a white van will take care of him. The government goes with the flow. No one is pulled up for dereliction of duty.
If a citizen were to write to a department head today the chances of a reply are extremely thin. He would have to follow up his letter with repeat visits to the department concerned until he realises only a bribe could get his job done. And to add insult to injury if he chooses to report the matter to the Bribery Commission he would indeed be in for a ruder shock because this commission is no longer in operation.
Since the President has not appointed the Parliamentary Committee that recommends names to both this and the Elections Commission these vital public sector organs remain dysfunctional.
Today we see multi-billion dollar projects on commercial loans being handed out to Chinese contractors without any tender procedures. These are proclaimed as great projects for the benefit of the nation.
But when former army commander Sarath Fonseka ordered binoculars without resorting to a tender due to the urgency of the requirement he was subjected to a court martial and jailed. The value of that is a fraction of the Chinese projects. So where does transparency come in to the equation in these two instances?

This transparency is also blurred when it comes to the application of the law. How is it that the second biggest terrorist after Prabhakaran, KP is now a government VVIP after he was ‘arrested,’ and the man who fought his deadly terrorist organisation, Sarath Fonseka was grabbed by his neck from his office, dragged along the road and thrown into jail where he still remains? How does one explain this selective application of the law? Would D.S. Senanayake have presided over such a paradox? Would Senanayake have had among his ministers one who tied public officials to trees? How does one explain local elections being called, and a week later, flouting all rules, a pay hike is granted for grama niladaris? Isn’t this plain and simple bribery?
The rot is plain to see but Sri Lankans now with their eyes forced shut have chosen not to see. None after all are as blind as those who do not wish to see but when it’s your life that’s on the line it’s always better not to see. And so, the degeneration goes on, and transparency? What was that again? Let’s just say we were much better off pre independence than today. Let’s debit out freedom balance sheet, again.

Rule of law

The cornerstone of any democracy, it goes without saying, is the rule of law. The law is equal to all and most importantly, applies to all. A quirk in our constitution is that the president is immune from being prosecuted in a court of law during his/her tenure of office. The 18th Amendment was supposed to correct that but it never happened. Instead, things that were never promised like extending the presidential term, happened.
Today there are two sets of laws, one for the ordinary people and one for the politicians and their cronies, which is why everybody wants to be some politician’s crony.
A startling example of the selective application of the law is highlighted by lawyers in Hulftsdorp last week petitioning the Chief Justice on the recent Supreme Court interpretation on the constitutionality of Sarath Fonseka’s courts martial. They contend that the interpretation ‘is far beyond a constitutional development and was politically motivated.’
Adding fuel to this fire are the persistent rumours doing the rounds about the Chief Justice tendering his resignation. Up-to-date though everyone and someone have had press conferences and announced that there was no truth to it, the CJ himself has chosen not to utter a word about the matter.
Over a dozen journalists have been killed or abducted in the last few years but not even in one instance have the perpetrators been caught. Meanwhile KP in faraway Malaysia was caught. Such selective application of the law was unthinkable pre independence. That then is another debit on the freedom balance sheet.
With the final score five to nothing on these five important counts we cannot help but wonder what exactly there is to celebrate on the fourth of February other than politicians celebrating the people’s dependence on them, something that they have systematically worked on since independence 63 years ago.

By Indi Samarajiva

Angry Apes

In the broadest sense, nations are illusions, an extension of ape territoriality. Our earliest ancestors simply followed food and defended territory only temporarily. Around 70,000 years ago, a small population walked out of Africa and eventually settled the world. The idea that they would need passports or permission would be baffling to them. They could walk, swim and build boats. As long as a physical barrier didn’t stop or kill them, they went.
At that time one might encounter angry buffalo or angry elephants, but not angry apes. At least not ones that had perfected pointy sticks and fire. Today, however, we have perfected pointy pens and firearms and, as we’re herded across borders, certain great apes in uniforms can pull you aside. Why?

Genetic Nations

While Buddha says all things are illusion, some illusions are more real than others. The illusion of self, for example, feels intensely real. It also has some genetic weight. Genes also move within families, thus the illusion of family is the next most real after the self. The family was and often is the nucleus of the nation.
In Sri Lanka, the main way to citizenship is by descent. One of your parents needs to be Sri Lankan, and until recently it had to be the father. There is no default citizenship by birth. There is no standard immigration policy. There are a few exceptions for people that contribute large amounts of money or culture, but those are limited to a few hundred a year, at the discretion of the Minister. The standard for citizenship here is a group of people with some genetic relation to each other. It is the same in many Arab and Asian nations as well.

Memetic Nations

The new world, however, is full of immigrant nations. These are nations which are built on something besides genetics, though it is still evolutionary in a sense.
These are nations built on what Richard Dawkins called memes, or cultural ideas. The nation is based on shared ideas, not shared genes. Here, the nucleus of the nation is not the family but the meme.
In America and other immigrant nations, the main way to citizenship is birth. Anyone born in America, even to an illegal immigrant, is a citizen. There are also numerous ways to immigrate. You can even choose to become American even if you have no historical genetic connection to the country at all. You simply have to have ‘good moral character’, basic English and pass a test on US history and government. Because your genes aren’t what matter to the nation. It’s your memes.

Genes or Memes?

So what is a nation? Is it an idea, or is it a race? Or is it some combination of the two? In the past, borders were much more fluid, and in a globalised Internet future, they seem to be more fluid still. That is, though the illusion has form, it lacks a concrete shape. The only crucial thing is that it is, to a large degree, made up.
In Sri Lanka, what we celebrate on Independence Day is a particular island shaped illusion, shaped in 1948. That year of British handover also marks a cut-off date for identity. A Chinese or Indian person resident here before 1948 (or their descendants) is eligible for citizenship, but anyone born after is not. That was effectively the date on which the gates of illusion closed.
Yet, it is obvious that the Sri Lankan identity is wider than this. Many people like Palitha Kohona and Gotabaya Rajapaksa have moved abroad and come back to be welcomed as no less than Sri Lankan. At the same time, around a million people work abroad. This is not an island that one can close the gates on in 1948 and declare that we are independent of everyone else.

Freedom

Instead, a better name for the day may be the Sinhala one — Nidahas Dinaya, or Freedom Day. In this day and age, there is not too much point to being a genetic nation. Not that a culture need not be preserved, but that culture can be open to influences from other people, as it has been ever since the ancients walked or swam or boated to this island.
In a recent article in an English daily, Minister Champika Ranawaka bemoans the influence of Indian dance and Dutch architecture on one hand and then touts our health and education systems on the other. Never mind that the latter is Western medicine and largely Western-style education. This is not to mention the positive influence of things like cricket, chili, and tea, items now deeply ingrained within the national identity. Underneath it all, of course, is the Indian import of Buddhism, so vital to Sinhala Buddhist identity that we seem to forget its idea that all things are impermanent. Instead, many presume that national identity is somehow an exception.
But it isn’t. National identity is an illusion, like any other. It looks real when you’re in the middle of it, but it loses coherence at the edges, and constantly changes. It may be genetic or it may be memetic, but both are fluid borders. We cannot truly hope for or even desire independence from the world because we are inherently interdependent. We can, however, hope for freedom.
The basic premise and promise of a nation is the same thing our ape forefathers would have desired. Some place safe with a decent food supply. Today, Mahinda Rajapaksa touts that as a place free of terrorism and home to economic growth. Tens of thousands of years later, it’s pretty much the same thing. A nation is an illusion, but a comforting one. This is a place we’ve all been carried to, but there’s no reason to get carried away.