Features
A singular modern Lankan mentor – Part I
Gananath Obeysekere: In search of Buddhist conscience (Baudha Hurdasakshiya Soya)
by Laleen Jayamanne and Namika Raby
“People were nourished by stories.” (Kathandarawalinne minissu jeewathwune) Gananath
“Man does not live by bread alone” Matthew 4:4
Dimuthu Saman Wettasinghe’s film Gananath Obeyesekere: In Search of Buddhist Conscience opens with a bravura tracking shot moving past trees, water, a splash of saffron robes. These sunlit images are enfolded in a non-religious, rather melancholy male choral chant, but soon the singular voice of Professor Gananath Obeyesekere cuts through with a kind of Dionysian intensity. He tells us a story about Gauthama Buddha, as the camera encircles, at speed, what turns out to be the Kandy Lake. His tale is about a devastating war waged by the king of Kosla against the Sakya kingdom but of the Buddha’s unshakable belief that if folk get together and discuss matters in good faith (call it diplomacy), all wars could be averted. This carefully and deeply researched, imaginative, ‘Educational Film’ of 142 minutes, with its exhilaratingly dense overture and its subtle montage, is a loving tribute to an exemplary Lankan scholar/teacher and his life work (of some 70 years) as an internationally renowned Anthropologist.
In my understanding of Classical Greek Theatre and Indian Philosophy (both studied at the University Ceylon Peradeniya in the late 60’s), ‘Dionysian intensity’ and Buddhist thought don’t sit easily together, Dionysus being the god of Greek Drama and festivity and as such, of intoxication and ecstasy, while Buddhist ideas of Reason, logical debate and introspective awareness of mental processes (Vipassana, Insight), were original contributions to perennial Indian Philosophy. But the wonder is that Gananath as a thinker was able to yolk together vastly diverse fields of scholarship and practices from many traditions, languages, and impart them to students in a memorable manner. In this two-fold activity, his voice was a powerful pedagogical instrument (in a musical sense) and tool (as in crafting words and sentences by breathing life into them). Let me elaborate with an anecdote I heard recently from a friend who was one of Gananath’s students from the mid-1960s at Peradeniya. The Anthropologist Dr Namika Rabi, who now in her retirement lives in LA, was a freshman then. She told me the following when I asked her what it was like listening to him:
One afternoon my room-mate Romaine Rutnam said to me that there is this interesting talk on campus, under the Popular Science Series delivered by Dr. Gananath Obeyesekere, with an interesting title, “Pregnancy Cravings (Dola Duka) and Social Structure in a Sinhalese Village” that we should go and listen to. The talk appealed because it was grounded in real society. I wondered where this faculty member came from, and I found out that there was a Department of Sociology and Dr. Obeyesekere was its Chair. One had to apply to the programme and get accepted and it was a four-year programme. I applied and got in, forgetting my plan to leave the campus in three years.
Professor Obeyesekere taught me Social Theory; Anthropological Methods; Anthropology of Religion; and Social and Cultural Organisation. Professor Obeyesekere brought dynamism into the classroom with his style of teaching, integrating abstract theory with how it works in practice through kathandara and carried me away with it”.
Though I myself was not a student of Gananath’s I have been to some of his seminars and listened to his public lectures over the years, both in Lanka and elsewhere. In the early 90s we organised a seminar by Gananath, (on what he called his ‘Cook Book’!), in the Dept. of Anthropology at The University of Sydney. His, The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Myth Making in the Pacific, led to a major Anthropological debate with Marshall Sahllins, on Cannibalism and ‘Primitivism’ in Colonial-Anthropology in Hawaii where Cook was killed by the indigenous folk. I certainly agree with Namika on the unusual power of Gananath’s oral communication with students and fellow academics, and crucially, with the interested public. One always gets the feeling that he is thinking on his feet, with a strong awareness of the listener (as in theatre), and then he varies his colloquial tone with humour, a wise crack here, a touch of irony there. Listening to him becomes enjoyable. He manifestly enjoys communicating ideas, his self-enjoyment in explicating them in accessible ways is infectious. He had an intuitive grasp of the theatrical dimensions of lecturing, in a place within the academy after all called, a ‘Lecture Theatre’. These ‘dynamics’, as Namika puts it, are so rare in the genre of the university lecture where we drone on for an hour or two each week, reading from stale notes, tone deaf, burning brain cells of young minds instead of firing them. Tone deafness is an occupational hazard of lecturing.
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Here’s Namika elaborating on how Gananath guided her in her scholarly and professional life. It is evident from her account that visionary Mentors do not produce clones but rather draw out and nurture the talents of a student well before she knows she has some.
Namika Raby: A Student’s Perspective
“As a cultural anthropologist Gananath’s ability to communicate abstract thinking into the classroom through dramatic performance is an integration of scientific Reason and Dionysian intensity. Beyond his voice, in my time, he was a performer. I remember him explaining the role of the sanni demon, a lowly creature in Sinhalese Buddhism, mimicking the demon, Gananath hopped with a banana on his toe to portray the demon.
Gananath had many illustrious students over time. However, I was a unique case because of my ethnicity and gender and a lifetime of what I call my Gananath “interventions” beginning during my days in the Department of Anthropology, Peradeniya. Nagging me to apply to graduate school and persuading my parent with a home visit to send me to graduate school abroad are a couple of examples of these interventions. Our ties are enduring, accompanying me throughout my career and life. So, I could say our ties evolved in multifaceted ways over half a century, as a teacher, a mentor, and my adoptive family with Ranjini in La Jolla into a holistic relationship. My husband and I had Sunday dinner with the Obeyesekere family, Gananath, an excellent cook, did Sunday dinners. One time we arrived and lo and behold a duck was hanging upside down from Gananath’s study window. He was preparing Peking Duck.
In my early training under Gananath, a memorable example was learning to do fieldwork. As undergraduates it was mandatory to do fieldwork during college breaks. As he said, “don’t come into my class if you don’t muddy your feet in the field.” He assigned us a location and ideas to study. He looked at me and said, “you’re a girl, you can go from home and study the Kachcheri, it is fascinating.”
I think of the irony of a researcher studying the meaning of exotic rituals advising me to find meaning in a bureaucracy. Kachcheri Bureaucracy in Sri Lanka: The Culture and Politics of Accessibility was the subject of my Ph.D. thesis, and my first publication. Once I learned to bring in the meanings of culture as they interfaced with rational structures, procedures, I was trained at the International Water Management Institute (IWMI) to apply my insights to irrigation bureaucracy and technology of irrigation for practical solutions. This became my life’s work. When I applied for a Post-Doctoral fellowship at IWMI, Gananath wrote a letter in support. With IWMI’s interdisciplinary team I researched and published on Mahaweli System H and Irrigation Management for Crop Diversification to be followed by work in the northern Philippines; This experience led to my recruitment and training by the World Bank. I worked on designing and evaluating National Irrigation Projects for The World Bank, in the Philippines; UN/FAO in India; and in Imperial Valley, California.
This eldest daughter of Muslim parents from Matara, Kotuwegoda, who boarded a plane for the first time to go to graduate school in California, was able to travel back to Sri Lanka to walk the rice fields of Galnewa; climb the hills of Northern Philippines to study the zanjeras (community managed farms); walk 22km of the Indira Gandhi Canal in Rajasthan, with my team, in darkness and pouring rain with a Jat elder leading us with his torch made of palm leaves and chanting jai hind; see the beauty of ancient Rome on my way to work at the Investment Center, FAO; work for the World Bank in the highly secured environment of Cali, Colombia; and study irrigation under drought in arid Imperial County, California by walking the extent of the All American Canal, and farms cultivating fruits and vegetables. Perhaps my most rewarding work came as an academic, (without time constraints, and fortunate to be funded by a grant by the American Institute for Lankan Studies) when I completed my case study of Ridi Bendi Ela (Alla) and Magallavava, Nikerawetiya, where the Government of Sri Lank did a pilot study of a Farmer Company established under the Companies Act. Farmer organizations based on purana, and newly settled villages. A total of 11 villages covered the command area of the tank.
In his very earliest work Land Tenure in Village Ceylon, Gananath challenged the western notion of the homogenous village of kinship and landownership and showed in great detail how land holding patterns defined what a village was.
In Ridi Bendi Ela, with a few exceptions, landholding cut across villages and during droughts farmers practiced thattumaru (rotated land holdings seasonally), as described in Gananath’s work. In my villages the relationships based on landholding patterns were complicated by landless outsiders settled as colonists by the Government. In these villages I also observed the doctrine/thought vs practice dimensions of Buddhism with relation to rice cultivation.
This pilot project trained farmers to undertake off-farm income generation activities, and progressively undertake self- management of the canal network. Magallavava, the tank, dates to 276-303 AD, constructed by King Mahasena (according to historical records), and according to some villagers, by king Pandukabaya. According to local legend, during the time of Lord Buddha, a prince and princess from India heard of the plight of the drought ridden villagers and brought silver coins to build the anicut to Magallavava, hence the name Ridi Bendi. Gananath often told us, “history matters.
These experiences became teaching tools in the classroom at California State University, Long Beach. Gananath’s film Kataragama: The God for All Seasons (story of Kareem included), remained a favourite with our students at every level.
Isn’t it interesting Dr. Obeyesekere, you asked me to muddy my feet in the field and I ended up spending my career doing just that?”
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In Search of Buddhist Conscience
(Baudha Hurdasakshiya Soya), skilfully interweaves the multiple strands of Gananath’s life and work. They are: his family background in a village (his multi-lingual father, an Ayurvedic physician trained in Calcutta and writer, and an anti-colonial thinker, as was his maternal grandfather); his married life with Ranjini Ellepola and their profound shared ethic of education, love of language, a feel for the aesthetic and generous hospitality to students and friends; his robust education locally which made him fluently bilingual and in the US; discussions with a large number of scholars, including Gananath and Ranjini, and also a Pattini Kapumahattaya, providing illuminating, lively commentaries on his work; explication of a series of his key texts and their concepts across his very long career; a rich array of images (stills and film clips) from Gananth’s extensive ethnographic archive where we see a young Gananath in the field with his multi-ethnic research teams. The filmmaker Dharmasiri Bandaranayke’s ‘teacherly documentary voice-over’, synthesises some of the facts, which helps, as there is so much rich material and new ideas to take in. Because of the careful interweaving of these many strands through the montage and the long duration of the film overall, it has a relaxed tempo, but one also feels a sense of urgency, the urgency of the ‘search’ (for Gananath and these dedicated young filmmakers too), in the Lankan historical political context of cycles of organised state violence against Tamil people including the long civil war, since political Independence in 1948.
Together, the very title ‘In Search of Buddhist Conscience’ and the melancholy chant (not a gatha but playing with its sonic memory, given the mise-en-scene of the iconic Temple of the Tooth, Dalada Maligawa glimpsed in the background), which opens the film, suggest a ‘loss’. A loss of conscience, the loss of a Buddhist conscience which was once robust in Lanka as manifested in the expansive, tolerant folk traditions, presented as incontrovertible ethnographic evidence. The film examines Gananath’s anthropological work as an intellectual (historical, ethnographic, theoretical, and yes, aesthetic) reclamation of the syncretic richness of the Buddhist and Hindu folk traditions as they intersected in all their hybrid multiplicity and presents the multi-ethnic folk of Lanka, both men and especially the women, who embodied their values so vibrantly, eloquently, intransigently and therefore unforgettably.
I am blown away by the suggestive power of this film for possible research on the Lankan folk archives of the Tamil Hindu traditions and what may be called an inclusive, vital, Buddhist folk imaginary, and material culture, through Gananath’s scholarship. One learns about Lanka’s deep cultural connections with South India from the ethnographic record as analysed and theorised by Gananath. For a lapsed Roman Catholic like me, the film is a profound revelation about my country of birth where I lived my first 23 years. Walter Benjamin wrote his essay ‘The Story Teller’ at a moment in Western modernity when the richly diverse European oral traditions were long gone and yet his essay, shot through with melancholy, catches light like a little gem every now and then, depending on how and why one might reread it under the pressure of the present moment baring down like a tonne of bricks, obliterating a future, inconceivable without a sense of a deep past, linked to legends, stories, ‘folk lore’ of the people. The film indicates that much of what the film dramatizes is now archival material, the living traditions mostly lost in processes of modernisation and westernisation of Buddhism itself. However, Gananath is no melancholy European Jewish intellectual like Walter Benjamin.
The ’dramatis persona’ ‘Gananath’ who comes across in Dimuthu’s film is an intellectual whose scholarly and indeed existential understanding of the tragedy of our post-independence etho-nationalist history, has not dampened his irrepressible sense of humour and a feel for the comic in public life and in the Lecture Theatre. After all, Dionysus presided over the genres of tragedy, comedy and the Satyr plays in the Civic Theatre Festival in Athens, the City Dionysia. And I have no doubt that Gananth has read his favourite thinker Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy in the Spirit of Music. But then Gananath has also imbibed the theatrical comic ribald humour and delight in high farce from our robust folk rituals. Two walls of his beautiful home in Kandy are shown decorated with a rare collection of comic-grotesque-scary folk masks (of the Sannyas and Demons) of Lanka, awaiting a museum that would house them. There is a precious group photo of Anthropologists at the famous Folk Art Museum in Bali, in Ubud, where a young Gananath is seen in the company of the legendary Margret Mead and others. I saw a Lankan Demon mask there when I visited the museum and now imagine that Gananath probably arranged for that demon to join his South Asian ‘na yakku’ (kith and kin demons) – this phrase in Sinhala makes me crack up! Gananath has brought both intensity and laughter into the intellectual arena of the academic lecture, making his pedagogic style unforgettable. This film is also a testament to that evanescent, spirited performance of a singular modern Lankan ‘guru’, in the sense of mentor who incites students to learn to think for themselves and strike a path of their own. By his own example he teaches us the irresistible art of critical thinking.
(To be continued)
Features
Mayors of Working Class Manchester and Melting Pot New York pose new challenges to Regressive Populism in Britain and America
Way back in 1844, Friedrich Engels, a wealthy school dropout from Germany, wrote the first of his many books, “The Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844.” He was 24. The book soon became a classic on nascent urbanism and an intimate account of the making of the industrial working class. The setting and the location for both was Manchester, the burgeoning 19th century Lancashire town, which Engels called “the most important” and “the most sensational” city in England, after London. He went on to describe it as “the principal site of … the Industrial Revolution … the ur-scene, concentrated specimen and paradigm of what such a revolution was portending both for good and bad.”
Now nearly 200 years later and 10 years after Brexit, not to mention the splendid rise and the stately fall of a whole empire in between, a man from Manchester is going to London to see the King and become Britain’s next Prime Minister. Its seventh in a decade and fourth in five years. The national mood seems ready both for good and bad. There is no other choice.
Andrew Murray (Andy) Burnham, the popular Mayor of Greater Manchester will soon replace the beleaguered Sir Keir Starmer whose premiership finally unraveled over the last weekend leading to the Monday morning resignation. Sir Kier left with genuine grace, great pathos and total disbelief in the rapid fall from high promises to hopeless frustration. It was also quite different from the end games of Starmer’s five predecessors, all of them Tories.
James Cameron, who started the procession in 2016 by calling a boneheaded referendum on Brexit, left in a mighty hurry no sooner than his gamble had backfired. His successor Teresa May thought she could reconcile the Brexit blunder and the British reality but failed and left. Boris Johnson came as a clown and left as a clown but only after being the wrecking villain of pre-Brexit Britain. Liz Truss, out of depth and out of sync, lasted little over a month. Rishi Sunak had all the depth he needed to succeed as a fiscally conservative PM, but he had no chance of winning an election after Johnson’s antics as Prime Minister. Inadvertently, as well, Sunak became the convenient immigrant prototype to lead Britain’s grand old party with its white elders fleeing formal politics and its rank and file flocking to the anti-immigrant Reform UK Party.
It is the rise of Reform UK and the thrashing it gave to both Labour and Conservatives in this year’s local elections that hastened the collapse of the Starmer government and Starmer’s exit as Prime Minister. There were other factors too, both personal and political, which contributed to Starmer’s rapid and ultimate failure. His new successor Andy Burnham is a different political persona even though there will likely be not much difference in the policies of the two men. The great British hope now is that Burnham’s personality and Mayoral record in Manchester would help him stem the Reform tide in the country and reverse its current momentum. Time will tell.
Keir Starmer: Rapid Rise and Sudden Fall
In the election that Prime Minister Sunak called in 2024, Starmer led the Labour Party to a seemingly landslide victory, but that was also hugely lopsided. Labour won 411 out of 650 (63%) seats in the House of Commons, but it managed only 34% of the popular vote. “Loveless landslide” was the verdict of the pundits, but the tenuousness of the victory was lost in the euphoria of Labour returning to power after 14 years in opposition wilderness. Prime Minister Starmer and the whole government started on the wrong political foot on every government initiative and even announcements.
The worst of them was to limit Winter Fuel Payment benefit that helped millions of households in England and Wales. The irony of it is that this payment was perhaps the first benefit measure of the Labour government under Tony Blair in 1997. It was the brainchild of then Chancellor Gordon Brown who introduced it as a universal benefit for pensioners. Tory governments after 2010 were critical of the universality of the program but would not cancel or scale back what had become a popular program. Starmer as Prime Minister dared to go where Tories wouldn’t and the backlash was swift and became the start of the government’s slide even before it had found its footing.
Although acknowledged for his skills and strengths in policy, Starmer turned out to be an ineffectual and bumbling politician. Surprisingly so for someone who was an accomplished barrister and a highly successful prosecutor with interest in human rights. As a prominent Member of UK’s Haldane Society of Socialist Lawyers, Starmer had extended his professional tentacles to the Soviet Union before its collapse, to South Africa after apartheid, to Northern Ireland, as well as European and Caribbean countries. All of this has come to nought at 10 Downing Street.
Despite his failure as Prime Minister, Starmer was not new to politics or the Labour Party. Like most Labour politicians, Starmer’s political roots also go back to his parents who were both working class Labour supporters. Starmer himself became a young Labour activist as a teenager and a member of the university Labour Clubs at Leeds and at Oxford. He was even associated with one of the Trotskyite tendencies, the Pabloites, in the Labour Party. His entry into parliamentary politics came late, becoming an MP in in 2015 at the age of 53, a year before Brexit, and became leader of the Labour Party in his first attempt following Labour’s defeat in the 2019 election and the resignation of Jeremy Corbyn.
The trajectory of Andy Burnham, the next Prime Minister, has been a different one within the Labour Party. Born in Manchester, in 1970, and eight years younger to Starmer, Burnham made an early start in parliament. He was young at 30 when he was first elected in the 2001 general election that started Tony Blair’s second term as PM. Burnham made his mark as an MP, held several junior minister positions under Blair, and joined the full cabinet under Gordon Brown. Ideologically, Burnham was to the left of Blair and closer to Gordon Brown, the socialist from Glasgow. After the Labour defeat in 2010, Burnham ran for the party leadership twice, in 2010 and again in 2015, and lost both, first finishing fourth to Ed Miliband and later finishing second to Jeremy Corbyn. In the 2020 leadership race that Starmer won, he was supported by Burnham who by then had become Mayor of Manchester.
Mayor Burnham as Prime Minister
Burnham had left Westminster in 2017 for local politics, contested the Greater Manchester mayoral election, and was elected Mayor garnering 63% of the vote and winning majorities in all ten of the regional boroughs. He has since been re-elected twice as Mayor with the same popular vote. During Covid-19, Burnham provided an alternative local leadership to fighting the pandemic that was quite the contrast to the blunders at the national level under Boris Johnson.
With the unpopularity of the Starmer government, the blowup from the Epstein scandal, and the local elections debacle, there was pressure within the Labour Party for Mayor Burnham to return to Westminster and challenge Starmer for the leadership. After months of bureaucratic party infighting, a by-election path was found for Burnham to become an MP and be eligible as a leadership candidate.
On June 18, Burnham won the by-election as a Labour candidate in Makerfield, a riding in the Greater Manchester Area where a vacancy had been created by the resignation of the incumbent Labour MP. Burnham won impressively with a 54.8% vote, upending Reform UK’s gains in the local elections. He won a plurality of votes from all the main parties – Conservative, Lib-Dem and Green – with all their candidates losing their deposits. He ran on his record of achievements as Mayor – in public housing, public transport, public inquires into child sexual exploitation and facilitating universal access to university education.
Already as an MP and Minister, Burnham had gained national prominence – promoting a National Care Service paralleling the National Health Service, and for making a statement in parliament condemning the cover-up of police abuse and suggesting that the cover up had been “advanced in the committee rooms of this House and in the press rooms of 10 Downing Street.” Those who are supporting Burnham now are obviously hoping that he would be able to reignite the old Labour flame that went dead under Starmer. This was unfortunate because Starmer had already moved the government to the left on many policy fronts, including re-nationalization of sectors that had failed under privatization.
Andy Burnham is not the first City Mayor to become British Prime Minister. There have been two rather unsettling predecessors. First was Neville Chamberlain who was the Mayor of Birmingham during World War I, before he became Prime Minister at the start of World War II. Most recently, Boris Johnson served two terms (2008-2016) as the Mayor of London before becoming Prime Minister. Andy Burnham should know Britain’s Mayoral history well, but he will also know that he is cut from a different political cloth and that he is entering Downing Street in a different era facing different challenges.
One of the areas where Burnham’s predecessor slipped up and never recovered was in dealing with Donald Trump and his mercurial ways. The more hopeful among British commentators have been citing from one of Burnham’s campaign speeches during the Makerfield by election: “This is a final chance to change. This is what people said directly to me on the hundreds of doorsteps that I stood on. We must hear it, we must act upon it and we must get it right. There will be no second chance. But there is a chance now from this result tonight to build a new politics based on unity and hope. Turning away from the path that takes us to a divided, dark politics of the kind we see in the United States.” The battle might be on, to put it mildly.
Mamdani’s New York Magic
Unlike in Britain, there is no national mood as such in the US. Instead, there are many moods across the nation with the pushes and pulls between them shaping the course of politics in this midterm election year. In one of those moods in New York, Mayor Mamdani has pulled off a stunning sweep within the Democratic Party in the primary nomination contests to elect party candidates for New York’s Congressional Districts in the November election. Mamdani endorsed three candidates, all of them members of the Democratic Socialists of America. All three of them have defeated establishment candidates of the Democratic Party and won nominations to contest the November election.
Before the primary vote in New York on Tuesday, none of the mainstream pundits expected Mamdani to pull this off. After Tuesday, none of them have stopped talking about it. President Trump was exercised enough to declare on social media, his only pulpit, that “America the Beautiful will NEVER be a Communist Country!!!”. Giving fake praise to the Mayor, Trump wrote that Mamdani had, “pulled through three solid Communists, and has received loud and universal applause from the Fake News Media. Congratulations Mr. Mayor.”
It is too late for Mr. Trump to learn the differences between democratic socialism in America and communism that is in his nightmare. The Democratic Socialists of America are a broad civil society organization that grew from a membership of 6,000 when Bernie Sanders ran his primary campaign for the 2016 presidential election that Trump ended up winning. And thanks mostly to Trump and his executive actions, the membership has now grown to over 100,000 with activists in every state. The primary reason for their being is opposing Trump’s indefensible policies and initiatives – from immigration to domestic welfare and foreign warfare. New York is the organization’s nerve centre even as it is the vibrant microcosm of the nation’s diversities and contradictions.
One of New York’s Congressional Districts (the Seventh) is the country’s “Commie Corridor”, while the 12th District is America’s wealthiest enclave. Progressive Democrats have won nominations in both as well as in the 10th and the 13th Districts. President Kennedy’s grandson, Jack Schlossberg, went to defeat in the 12th, while the surprising nominee for the 13th District is a firebrand democratic socialist, Darializa Avila Chevalier. Ms. Chevalier is an Afro-Latina from the Dominican Republic who is a community organizer and a sociology Ph.D. student at Columbia.
Ms. Chevalier, known to be “like AOC, but to the Left,” defeated Adriano Espaillat, a 71-year old veteran Latino Congressman also the from Dominican Republic and the first Dominican to be elected to the US Congress. Mr. Espaillat was once an ‘undocumented immigrant’, a category that Trump and his MAGA base now want deported. His defeat sent shockwaves through the American Latino establishment, but to his Latina critics, the Congressman had grown too flabby in office in spite of his own beginnings and early challenges.
The convulsions in New York may or may not make an impact on the course of the campaign for and the results of the midterm elections in November. But they are indicative of new grassroots forces and processes that define the emerging political push backs against racist, right wing and anti-immigrant populism, not only in the US but also in Britain and other western democracies. The current transition in Britain reflects that dynamic.
The essence of the new thrust is that it is shaking up the traditional opposition of American Democrats to right wing populism, which has become too conventional and even elitist. The campaigns of Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris were culturally elitist and they lost to the most financially elitist presidential candidate in American history. Former President Barak Obama is trying hard to prevent his post-presidential politics from being similarly branded as politics of elitism in retirement.
What sustains this elitism is the myriad of establishment silos claiming to represent every ethnic and immigrant group in America. They operate transactionally at the top in utter isolation from their own grassroots. The genius of Mamdani is in attacking these silos and establishing grassroots solidarity irrespective of religion, ethnicity and immigrant diversity. He has demonstrated that this approach can work in New York’s melting pot, and that it can be politically successful. Trump, the consummate market politician, gets this instinctively. But traditional and elitist Democrats are too timid to embrace the new mode politics in New York City.
by Rajan Philips ✍️
Features
Colombia’s Revenge Vote
During the election period, soon after the killing of the so-called FARC (The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia) dissident commander Iván Idrobo, alias Marlon, a question began circulating across Colombia. Can the Colombian state finally become strong enough that armed groups no longer step into the vacuum where government authority should exist?
The timing could hardly have been more symbolic. While President Gustavo Petro presented the military operation against Marlon as a major victory against illegal armed structures, his own political project was entering its weakest moment. The first left-wing president in Colombia’s modern history, who promised to transform the country through social reform, peace building and a different relationship between the state and marginalized communities, was watching political power shift towards a completely different force.
Colombia narrowly chose Abelardo de la Espriella, a millionaire lawyer and political outsider who built his entire campaign around the image of a political predator. He called himself “El Tigre” and offered voters a message centered on strength, punishment and national revival. In many ways, his victory places Colombia within the same political current that has lifted figures such as Javier Milei in Argentina and Nayib Bukele in El Salvador. It is a movement fuelled by frustration, anger and exhaustion with traditional politics, but also by a growing belief that complex national problems can be defeated through force of personality rather than patient institution-building.
The Colombian election was not simply a victory for the right. It was a rejection of a political establishment that, despite decades of promises from both sides of the ideological divide, failed to solve the fundamental problems shaping ordinary life. The left promised equality and social transformation but struggled to deliver security, economic confidence and effective state control in many regions. The traditional right promised order but failed to eliminate the structural causes that allow criminal economies, corruption and inequality to survive. Between these two failures, political space opened for a figure who promised to destroy the old system entirely.
That is the reality behind Colombia’s political transformation. The country did not suddenly become far-right because millions of Colombians adopted a new ideological identity overnight. Many voters moved because they felt abandoned by governments of different political colours. They saw illegal armed groups expanding their influence, extortion becoming normal in some communities, rural populations trapped between criminal organizations and weak institutions, and politicians endlessly debating while ordinary citizens lived with insecurity.
The victory of De la Espriella is therefore part of a broader Latin American pattern. Across the region, voters have repeatedly punished governments that appear unable to address insecurity, economic stagnation and declining trust in institutions. The political pendulum has swung repeatedly from left to right and from right to left, yet the deeper failures remain unresolved. Elections increasingly resemble political theatre where angry citizens replace the actors while the underlying stage remains unchanged.
Colombia has experienced this cycle before. Álvaro Uribe Vélez rose to power in 2002 by promising security during one of the darkest periods of the country’s armed conflict. His hardline approach weakened the FARC insurgency and restored confidence among many Colombians who believed the state was losing control. His influence continued long after leaving office, creating the powerful Uribista movement. His political allies Juan Manuel Santos and Iván Duque both reached the presidency with his backing.
However, Uribismo eventually faced its own political limits. The movement became associated not only with security achievements but also with allegations surrounding human rights abuses, illegal surveillance, links between sections of the political establishment and paramilitary networks, and the scandal of false positives, in which civilians were killed and falsely presented as guerrilla combatants. The political brand that once represented order became increasingly connected, in the eyes of critics, with unresolved questions about Colombia’s past.
The defeat of Paloma Valencia exposed this decline. She represented the traditional Uribista right, yet many voters who once followed Uribe were no longer automatically loyal. They wanted something more aggressive, more emotional and less connected to the old political establishment. De la Espriella understood this shift. He did not attempt to revive Uribismo. He attempted to replace it.
His campaign succeeded because it understood the modern political battlefield. It was not built around detailed policy documents or traditional party structures. It was built around identity, symbolism and digital warfare. The tiger image, patriotic slogans, military gestures and relentless social media presence created a political brand that appeared energetic, rebellious and anti-establishment. His campaign used influencers, viral content and emotionally charged messaging to dominate online spaces where many younger voters increasingly form political opinions.
His rival Iván Cepeda represented almost the opposite model. A veteran left-wing politician known for human rights advocacy and political seriousness, Cepeda struggled to translate his message into the language of the digital age. His campaign relied heavily on speeches, arguments and traditional political communication. In a political environment where algorithms reward anger, simplicity and spectacle, his approach often appeared slower and less emotionally powerful.
This was one of the central failures of the Colombian left. It underestimated the emotional dimension of politics. It assumed that explaining problems would be enough to win public support. But voters facing insecurity, unemployment and declining trust in institutions were not searching only for analysis. They were searching for someone who appeared capable of taking control.
Petro’s government contributed significantly to this disappointment. His historic victory in 2022 represented a breakthrough after decades of conservative dominance. Millions hoped his administration would finally confront Colombia’s deep inequality, rural abandonment and social exclusion. However, his government struggled to transform ambitious promises into visible results.
His “Total Peace” strategy became the clearest example. The idea recognized an important reality: Colombia’s violence was never caused only by armed men. It was connected to poverty, land inequality, weak institutions and forgotten regions.
The problem was implementation. Several armed groups interpreted negotiations as opportunities to expand territory, recruit fighters and strengthen criminal economies. Organizations involved in drug trafficking, illegal mining and extortion increased their influence in various areas. Communities expecting peace often experienced uncertainty instead. The state appeared to be negotiating while criminal groups continued expanding.
This is where both the Colombian left and right repeatedly fail. The left often correctly identifies the social roots of violence but struggles to impose security and state authority. The right promises security but frequently avoids confronting the deeper inequality, corruption and institutional weakness that allow criminal networks to regenerate. The result is a permanent cycle of crisis management.
At the same time, De la Espriella’s victory reflects the rise of a new international conservative network in Latin America. His political success fits within a broader movement associated with leaders such as Milei and Bukele, as well as wider alliances among right-wing forces that emphasize security, national identity and confrontation with progressive politics. These movements have gained strength by exploiting public frustration with ineffective governments.
The danger is that political anger can become a substitute for governing. The promise of a “miracle homeland” is powerful because it provides emotional satisfaction. It tells citizens that someone finally understands their frustration and will punish those responsible. But governing requires more than punishment. It requires functioning institutions, economic planning, administrative competence and long-term solutions.
De la Espriella has won, but his victory does not represent national unity. It represents a deeply divided country where millions voted against the previous government rather than simply for the new one. His mandate is narrow, his congressional support remains limited and expectations among his supporters are extremely high.
The real test will not be whether De la Espriella can win elections. He has already achieved that. The real test is whether he can succeed where generations of Colombian leaders have failed. The question now is whether he will become a builder of stronger institutions or simply another performer in Colombia’s long-running political theatre.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa ✍️
Features
Politics, Taxation and the Need for Consensus
The editorial in last Sunday’s Sunday Island, captioned “Fuel Crisis: Beyond Price Debate,” deserves to be applauded because it called on both the government and the opposition to stop playing politics over fuel prices. The editor concluded by stating, “It is hoped that the government and the opposition will stop fighting over fuel prices and address the serious issues that threaten the country’s energy security and economic stability.”
I believe that most Sri Lankans would agree with that sentiment, except perhaps those engaged in politics whose primary objective appears to be the attainment of power, often regardless of the cost to the country.
Unfortunately, opposition parties seldom assess government policies on their merits. This was also true of the NPP when it was in opposition. There is, however, an important difference between exposing political hypocrisy and opposing sound economic policies. Criticism of policy reversals is legitimate, but it should not undermine reforms essential to the country’s economic recovery and long-term stability.
TAX REVENUE-TO-GDP RATIO
The most important indicator of a government’s capacity to finance public services is its tax revenue-to-GDP ratio. In 1990, Sri Lanka’s tax revenue-to-GDP ratio stood at approximately 19%. Over the following three decades, however, successive governments steadily eroded the country’s tax base through tax concessions, exemptions, rate reductions, and weak enforcement. As a result, the ratio declined significantly and averaged between 10% and 12% before collapsing to around 8% following the sweeping tax cuts introduced by the Gotabaya Rajapaksa administration in late 2019.
The economic consequences that followed were devastating. Government revenue fell sharply. The resulting fiscal imbalance contributed significantly to the economic crisis that culminated in sovereign default, shortages of essential goods, inflationary pressures, and widespread social unrest.
The World Bank considers a tax-to-GDP ratio of around 15% to be the minimum required for developing countries such as Sri Lanka to provide basic public services and maintain fiscal sustainability. According to the latest available figures, Sri Lanka has now increased its ratio to approximately 15.5%, thereby reaching that minimum threshold.
While this represents a significant achievement considering the depth of the crisis, it is hardly a cause for celebration. To place matters in perspective, neighbouring India has achieved a tax-to-GDP ratio of approximately 19.6%, despite operating a far larger and more complex economy. Many developed countries record ratios well above 25%.
Sri Lanka’s recovery in tax revenue has been driven largely by substantial increases in taxation. Value Added Tax (VAT), which is an indirect tax, has increased to 18%, while the top personal income tax, a direct tax, now stands at 36%. These measures have imposed a considerable burden on taxpayers, particularly in the aftermath of inflation reaching nearly 70% in September 2022. Although inflation has since fallen substantially, the prices of most goods and services remain significantly higher than they were before the crisis;
Consequently, many income taxpayers feel aggrieved. They are paying more taxes while simultaneously struggling with a higher cost of living. Their frustration is understandable.
THE ONLY CERTAINTIES IN LIFE ARE DEATH AND TAXES
The famous saying that “the only certainties in life are death and taxes” is attributed to Benjamin Franklin in 1789. Yet, for much of Sri Lanka’s post-independence history, large segments of the population have effectively avoided income tax.
Successive governments, driven by short-term political considerations, frequently reduced income tax rates, expanded exemptions, or abolished taxes altogether. Over time, this fostered a culture in which many citizens came to view taxes, such as personal income tax, as unusual or even unfair. Once such attitudes take root in public thinking, they are difficult to reverse.
What has understandably angered many taxpayers, however, is the perception that the burden of personal income tax and corporate income tax has been borne disproportionately by a relatively small segment of the population employed in the formal sector.
For instance, a person employed in the formal economy and earning a monthly salary of Rs. 350,000 would pay Rs. 32,000 in Advance Personal Income Tax (APIT). By contrast, a person earning a similar amount in the informal sector may remain entirely outside the tax net.
THE NEED TO BROADEN THE TAX BASE
Sri Lanka has a serious problem with tax evasion. This challenge is compounded by the fact that the informal economy is estimated to account for nearly 65% of overall economic activity. Therefore, a significant portion of the workforce and businesses operate outside conventional tax structures and regulatory oversight.
While many workers in the informal sector legitimately earn incomes below the personal income tax threshold, it is equally true that numerous business owners generate significant incomes while remaining largely outside the tax net. Many of these businesses fall within the category of small and medium-sized enterprises.
As a consequence, a relatively small group of individuals and corporations shoulder a disproportionately large share of the country’s direct tax burden. Such an arrangement is neither equitable nor sustainable in the long term.
The objective should not necessarily be to increase tax rates further, but rather to ensure that more participants contribute to the system. When a greater number of taxpayers contribute, the burden on existing taxpayers can potentially be reduced over time. Equally important, a broader tax base enhances transparency, improves record-keeping, and encourages businesses to operate within the formal economy.
THE GOVERNMENT’S DECISION TO REVERSE THE VAT THRESHOLD REDUCTION
Against this backdrop, it is disappointing that the government has decided to retreat from an important tax reform by reversing the reduction of the annual VAT registration threshold from Rs. 60 million to Rs. 36 million.
The proposed reduction was a modest but meaningful step towards broadening the tax base and bringing more businesses into the formal economy. Requiring businesses to register for VAT would also have facilitated proper accounting records to be maintained, especially for sales, which in turn would help determine taxable profits for income and corporate tax purposes. However, following public criticism and political pressure, the government reversed course.
At a recent meeting of the Committee on Public Finance (COPF), its Chairman, Dr Harsha de Silva, asked officials from the Ministry of Finance how many additional businesses would be brought into the VAT system through the proposed reduction of the threshold. The officials estimated the number to be approximately 10,000, although they appeared unable to provide a definitive figure.
What was particularly striking during the discussion was that several participants appeared not to fully understand how the VAT system actually functions in Sri Lanka. This is unfortunate because informed public debate requires a sound understanding of the facts.
For example, a substantial proportion of the turnover of even a large supermarket consists of goods that are exempt from VAT. When I served as CFO of a leading supermarket chain, approximately 40% of turnover came from VAT-exempt goods. Although that percentage may have declined over time, it remains significant. In a typical neighbourhood grocery store, the proportion of VAT-exempt sales is likely to be even higher.
Consequently, many smaller retailers would not have been affected by the reduction in the VAT threshold, as their taxable supply would have been well below the threshold. Therefore, the claim made by Dr Harsha De Silva in a post on the X platform that “This Govt was about to fine your local shop Rs. 1 million for not registering for VAT’ is misleading.
The claim that the withdrawal of the proposed reduction in the threshold is a victory for consumers, too, is incorrect. Sri Lankan law requires manufacturers and importers to display a Maximum Retail Price (MRP) on all consumer products. In practice, this means that the retail price of a bottle of Coke is the same regardless of whether it is sold through a VAT-registered supermarket or a smaller retailer.
Ironically, the non-VAT-registered grocery store earns a higher margin than the tax-compliant supermarket. Therefore, the assertion that reducing the VAT threshold would have imposed an additional burden on consumers purchasing goods is incorrect and misleading.
The situation is somewhat different for service providers. Businesses supplying services that became subject to VAT may have sought to pass some or all of the tax burden on to consumers through higher fees. However, that possibility should not obscure the broader objective of expanding the tax base and improving compliance.
There were further criticisms that businesses were given only two weeks’ notice before implementation and would need to invest Rs 200,000 in a POS machine. Yet the government’s intention to reduce the threshold had been announced when presenting the budget about seven months ago. Therefore, it is difficult to understand where the claim of a two-week notice came from. Equally, it is not unreasonable to expect a business generating turnover of Rs. 36 million annually to purchase a POS machine to maintain adequate records of its sales.
A VALUABLE OPPORTUNITY LOST
In my view, a valuable opportunity to widen the tax net has been lost. What should have been a rational discussion on tax policy instead became another example of political point-scoring, misinformation, and a failure to properly explain the operation of the VAT system to the public.
It is therefore difficult to understand why Dr Harsha De Silva has been such a strong critic of reducing the annual VAT threshold to Rs. 36 million, given that during his time as a minister between 2015 and 2019, the threshold stood at only Rs. 12 million.
This type of political gamesmanship serves neither the government nor the opposition. More importantly, it does not serve the country’s interests. Sri Lanka’s economic recovery requires difficult decisions, honest public debate, and a willingness among political leaders to place national interests above short-term political advantage.
That is precisely why the Sunday Island editorial was correct. The country needs less politics and more policy. On issues as fundamental as taxation, energy security, public finances, and fiscal sustainability, consensus is not a sign of weakness. It is a prerequisite for long-term economic stability and national progress.
The challenge before Sri Lanka is not merely to collect more taxes. It is to create a tax system that is fair, credible, broad-based, and capable of supporting the services and infrastructure that citizens expect from the state. Achieving that objective requires competence, transparency, and political courage.
(The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of any organization or institution with which the author is affiliated).
By Sanjeewa Jayaweera ✍️
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