(Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Pieris)

That is the furthest that S.W.R.D.’s Committee was able to go (on the matter of human rights provisions in the constitution). Similar Committees have been periodically appointed by Parliament for the same purpose and they have all failed to complete their task for the obvious reason that Constitutions cannot be discussed, determined and drafted within the lifetime of a session of Parliament, which is approximately twelve months.

S.W.R.D.’s steering of a motley crowd of intellectual political colleagues, assembled as a Joint Select Committee of Parliament, to the signing of a unanimous report, showed much tact and great ability. As Chairman of the Committee, he restrained himself from displaying that greatest quality of his oratory. He was an orator born. Oratory has been defined as a graceful management of the voice, countenance and gesture.

With arms stretch’d forth, of folded, or at rest,
As will’d the power by whom he seem’d possess’d,
With features augur’d all his tongue alleged,
And tones wing’d home each barbed shaft they edged,
And with spontaneous sallies bright and bold,
Resistless streams of oratory roll’d.

On his way back home from the United Nations, he addressed the Diplomatic Corps in New Delhi, where my brother G. S. was Counselor in our Mission. He had spoken without notes as usual, and the general consensus of opinion among the diplomats was that S.W.R.D.’s speech was the best they had ever heard in that hall. My brother thought that this compliment ought to be conveyed to the Prime Minister. When he did so, S.W.R.D. had said, “I’m not surprised, my dear fellow, did you know that I am one of the five best speakers in the World?”

The financial position (of the country) was not improving. With an anticipated budget deficit of nearly Rs 200 million, further loans were being raised. Apart from this and the rising cost of living there was, again, unrest and violence in the country. An emergency meeting of the Cabinet was summoned on May 27, 1958, and at 11 a.m. the Ministers adjourned to Queen’s House to tender advice to His Excellency the Governor-General that a State of Emergency should be proclaimed with effect from 12. 15 p.m. that day under the Public Security Ordinance.

It would be interesting to find out whether the addition of that odd fifteen minutes was for reasons astrological. Probably it was, for no Prime Minister appeared to take a step without consulting the stars. Sir Oliver Goonetilleke now took complete control of the country, obviously with the consent of his weak-kneed Government. He was an excellent man for the job and was, I believe, virtual Dictator. Emergency Regulations were pouring out of the Government Press. Ministers were meeting almost daily, not to transact business, but to be kept informed of what the situation, changing from day to day, was. Violence and arson was everywhere.

In the midst of the Emergency came S.W.R.D.’s third Speech from the Throne. Both Houses of Parliament had to be summoned on June 4, 1958, “in order that you may be informed that a State of Emergency had been declared under the Public Security Ordinance. Both your Houses have had an opportunity of discussing the subject fully.

“I have pleasure in stating that the position continues steadily to improve. My Government is taking all steps necessary to maintain law and order. My Government will also take the measures required to restore peace, goodwill and confidence amongst various sections of the people of the country. In accordance with its Policy, my Government will introduce legislation early for the reasonable use of the Tamil language.”

This last sentence upset the whole of the Tamil community because it was not quite clear that Tamil was to take second place and the Tamils were not prepared to accept that inferior position. They were determined to fight for their rights and eminent leaders to do the fighting were not lacking. They insisted on parity which the Government was not in a position to grant, having made an election promise that, if returned, they would make Sinhala the one official language of the country.

Reference was made in the Speech to the rising cost of living and the Government promised to take certain effective measures to bring it down. I was not aware what these measures were to be. The cost of living continued to rise. All I know is that the Cabinet never sat down to give serious consideration to the problem. The poor man found it difficult to obtain his foodstuffs at reasonable prices within his means. He lived normally on free rice and dried fish, or rice and sambol.

The dried fish was obtainable only at exorbitant prices. To make a sambol, one had to have lime, Maldive fish, chillies, onions and coconut, all of which were obtainable only in the black market. The Cabinet took no effective steps to bring the prices of these essential commodities, essential to the poor man who had put them into power, down to a reasonable level.

The promise in the Throne Speech was implemented and the Tamil Language (Special Provisions) Bill introduced. The uneasiness thus caused in the country made it necessary to extend the emergency for the third month. It was now September and the emergency was in its fourth month, followed later by a fifth month. The import and export of goods through all the ports of the Island and their distribution were declared to be essential services under the emergency law.

The end of 1958 saw the emergency still in operation. 1959 opened with strikes in the Port of Colombo, the Shell Company and the Banks. A token strike by certain sections in the Government as well as in the private sector was threatened. A Committee of Ministers was appointed to keep in day-to-day touch with the situation. It was my experience that these committees never worked because it was impossible to get all the ministers on the Committee together for a meeting. They dilly-dallied with the situation assuming always that, having been returned by the ‘People’, they would be in office for the rest of time. Nothing was done.

Notice was given by unions in the Government as well as in the private sector that there would be more strikes in sympathy and the Secretary to the Treasury drew the attention of all public officers to Administrative Regulation 262 which read: “No officer is allowed to call a public meeting to consider any action of the Government of Ceylon or the Government of any other country or take an active part in such a meeting unless he is authorized to do so in his official capacity with a view to discussion and settlement of points in issue with associations representing special interests etc.”

Officers were reminded that participation in any public meeting called in connection with the Public Security (Amendment) Act would be a breach of this regulation and render those taking part liable to disciplinary action. The Act, which gave rise at the time to a deal of controversy, gave the Prime Minister power to call out the armed services for the maintenance of public order if it was felt that the Police were inadequate to deal with the situation in any particular area. Power was taken to seize and remove guns, explosives and other offensive weapons. Except with the sanction of the Attorney-General, no prosecution was to lie against any officer for any act done by him in good faith. In February 1959, the emergency was still continuing.

At about this time, an entirely new scheme of taxation was introduced according to certain proposals made by Professor Kaldor. Apart from income tax, estate duty and the bank debits tax, there was introduced a personal tax, an expenditure tax, a wealth tax and a capital gains tax.

The rich man and the not-so rich man were to be skinned for the sake of the poor man, but the poor muggins did not realize that they were getting precious little out of the carcass. Their essential commodities were almost unobtainable. Very little was left to a taxable man after the payment of his taxes.

The Government, being broke, was going to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs. The main revenue came from our exports of tea, rubber and coconut. The landed proprietors and the estate owning companies were so highly taxed that they had very little money to put back into the land by way of fertilizers and other improvements. Profits fell and accordingly dividends fell. Most people, particularly the Europeans were trying to pull out in good time and abandon the sinking ship.

There was no incentive to earn or save. If you earned, you were mulcted in income tax. If you saved, you paid wealth tax; if you spent, you were caught under the expenditure tax and if, in desperation, you just died, your heirs were probably compelled to sell your estate to pay your death duties. The taxes affected the natives as well as the foreigners. It was, for all, as Paul Robeson sang in Old Man River, “I’m tired of living and feared of dying”.

At the same time, the Government was saying, with its tongue in its cheek, that it welcomed the investment of foreign capital in the country. What was actually happening was that, with the heavy taxation, foreigners were packing up and leaving the country, foreign estates were being sold and foreign businesses were either amalgamating or closing down. The banks too were perturbed with rumours that the business of banking would be nationalized. The National Bank, an old-standing institution, amalgamated with Grindlays.

On Budget Day in Parliament, it is customary for the Cabinet to meet, not at a normal sitting, but about an hour before the Finance Minister is due to make his Budget Speech in the House. This was a measure adopted ex abundanti catitela (with an abundance of caution) to avoid budget leaks. There is no Cabinet Paper but the Minister informs the Cabinet of his revenue and taxation proposals. No one was ever known to take a ‘note.

I took a note but, contrary to my practice, did not dictate my minutes to my stenographer for fear of a leak till the Minister had made his speech in Parliament. The fear was not a fear of a leak through my stenographer. It was a fear of a leak through a Minister for which an innocent public servant might have been suspected. After the Cabinet meeting, the Minister went to Queen’s House to inform the Governor-General, as a matter of courtesy, of his taxation proposals. He then summoned the Governor of the Central Bank to his office and informed him of his proposals.

May I digress here, in lighter vein, from budget leaks to leaks in Vaudeville in the London music hall. When I was a student in London in the early thirties, an actress in variety (I think it was Gracie Fields) sang a song in which one of the lines was “She sits among the cabbages and leeks”. Promptly, the censor, the Lord Chamberlain, that undisputed guardian of British morals, came on the producer and the line was changed the next night to “She sits among the cabbages and peas”. And the sensible British public laughed.

Philip Gunawardene was now giving a little trouble in the Cabinet. Other members were becoming uneasy at the way he was trying to assume vast powers by legislation as Minister of Agriculture and Food. S.W.R.D., having taken Philip into his Cabinet, appeared to be a bit frightened of him: for example, he never addressed him as “my dear fellow”. It was obvious that he did not like Philip’s draft legislation, but he did not openly object to it. There was already the Paddy Lands Act under which the Minister had taken wide powers. Now, there came the Co-operative Development Bank Bill. When this item came on the Agenda, the Prime Minister tactfully said that he wanted a little more time to study all the implications of the Bill. Intellect was going to meet intellect, not in intellectual, but in political combat.

The matter had become one of political strategy and the combatants were putting on their gloves to enter the ring. The Prime Minister said that it was most desirable that the Government Parliamentary Party should be given an opportunity of expressing its views before the Cabinet came to decisions. This was typical of S.W.R.D.’s political legerdemain. He was playing for time; he was determined not to vest these powers in Philip.

He asked members of the Party not to canvas the matter in public as it was proposed to call an early meeting of the Party. I was directed to place the Bill, pending the Prime Minister’s order, at the bottom of the Agenda with a note to the effect that the item would not be considered at the meeting. The Agenda ceased to have any meaning. Philip was no fool and he was becoming restive.

The proposed Co-operative Development Bank was to be given vast powers. It was to develop the co-operative movement, rural banking and agricultural credit by furnishing financial and other assistance. It could transact the same kind of business as the Bank of Ceylon. It could carry on the business of a pawnbroker, acquire property, borrow funds and establish pensions and provident funds. Of the six directors on the Board, one of whom was ex officio, five were to be appointed by the Minister, who had the power to remove any director without assigning any reason.

Ministers were agreed that these functions went far beyond the scope of merely co-ordinating the finances of the co-operative movement. The Minister of Finance stated that he should be the proper Minister responsible for operations of banking of this nature. Every obstacle was put in the way of Philip’s draft legislation going forward. One could see trouble ahead.

Philip retorted in print: “It is not accidental that criticism of the new bill has emanated from the same sources as opposed the Paddy Lands Act. The Paddy Lands Act aimed at sweeping away the semi-feudal system of land tenure which have, for so long, oppressed and enslaved the village farmer. The new Co-operative Bank Bill similarly aims at sweeping away the semi-feudal credit system which still prevails in the villages of Ceylon and thereby releasing the Ceylon peasant from the clutches of the village boutique keeper and the professional moneylender.” This was April 1959.

Philip’s Bill was going to be mutilated in Cabinet. S.W.R.D. thought that the best solution would be to relieve Philip of the subject and to take it over himself, which he did. Philip resigned on May 19, 1959, and William Silva, Minister of Industries, an able Minister, resigned with him.

C. P. de Silva took over Agriculture and Fisheries, and J. C. W. Munasinghe took charge of Industries.

The Government was now contemplating the taking over of assisted schools and started feeling the pulse of the country. Well-known Buddhists were all for it; the Roman Catholics knew that this was a blow at their schools. The Government stated that, in view of the need to achieve a more unified system of education in the country, they had decided, as a step towards this end, to take over such privately-managed schools as the Department of Education might determine in consultation with and with the consent of the management concerned.

The time had now come to draft S.W.R.D.’s next Speech from the Throne. He inquired whether he would be putting me into too much trouble if he asked me to come to Horagolla to attend to the matter. That was his polite way of making an order.

I asked that I may be allowed to bring my stenographer along. Siriwardene, the stenographer, and I arrived on time and were invited to tea. There were about five or six persons seated on the verandah but the Prime Minister asked them to excuse him as there was urgent Government business awaiting his attention.

When tea was over, he ordered the boy to clear the table. He then stretched his arms on the table and appeared to go to sleep with his head on his arms. This went on for about fifteen minutes, during which period Siriwardene and I kept completely silent. Suddenly, he raised his head and said “I’ve got it. Take this down”, and dictated the entire speech to Siriwardene. He was kind enough to ask me to revise the draft, but on this occasion I had not a single amendment to make.

He thanked us for having come all the way to Horagolla. The Speech contained this sentence: “My Government deplores the estrangement that prevails between the two major communities in this Island and proposes to have early discussions with a view to improving communal harmony.” What else could have been expected, other than estrangement, in view of the Sinhala Only Act is difficult to imagine.

On September 25,1959, a man whom the Prime Minister described as a person dressed in the robes of Buddhist monk shot him at his house in Rosmead Place. On the next day, he died.