Learning from the Insurgency 1971 and how it began

LESSONS FROM MY CAREER; SYNTHESISING MANAGEMENT THEORY WITH PRACTICE – PART 3

by Sunil G Wijesinha

I was now the unofficial Officer-in-Charge of the Boat Project at Peliyagoda of the State Engineering Corporation (SEC). How I got there is another story and will be told later. The insurgency attack was launched on April 5, 1971. For months before that, we all knew it was on its way. There were reports of accidental explosions of bombs and similar incidents, all leading to an impending armed revolt. I recall an incident where one of our batch mates invited me for tea in the Head Office canteen and, in a secluded area, explained about the injustice people go through and how a revolution is the only solution.

He was obviously trying to convert me. It was a one-and-a-half-hour lecture, but he failed to answer my questions and could not respond to my challenges. I felt he had attended the infamous training camps and had been thoroughly brainwashed. On April 5, Radio Ceylon announced that some police stations had been attacked. On the 6th, on my way by bus to Peliyagoda, several army trucks were travelling with soldiers carrying rifles pointed outwards, ready to shoot. After I arrived at the boatyard, I found there was no electrical power, which was probably the work of the insurgents.

We began getting news from many State Engineering Corporation (SEC) staff members fleeing their workplaces. Many of those were from the Salawa site, where the biggest plywood factory in Asia was being built by the SEC. The Salawa site was a hotbed of the insurgents. There were stories of people beheaded and hung that day, but these were not verified. My batchmate who tried to convert me was stationed in Salawa. The insurgency had started and my batchmate was arrested. Fortunately for him, another batchmate having close links to the then IGP went from station to station with the help of the police and finally traced him. His life was saved. He was lucky, unlike many others who were arrested.

Escaping to our village home and getting my job back

Events during the following days were frightening. We had a 24-hour curfew, and there were rumours that the insurgents would disrupt electricity and water. There was no way we could survive in Colombo without electricity and water. My father decided to close up our Colombo house and leave for our ancestral home in the village as a temporary measure. At least we would have well water and our generator there.

Although it was in the deep south, our village was still peaceful. We arrived at Getamanna, and the following day, it was a 24-hour curfew for the Hambantota District. A few days later, when the situation was brought under control, the Government announced that all Government and Corporation employees should report to their workplaces immediately, and if not, they would be considered as having vacated post.

There was no way I could have travelled back to Colombo. Being 22 years old at the time, I ran the risk of being either forcibly recruited by the JVP (new insurgents as they were called) or arrested on suspicion by the Police or the Army. My mother said it was alright even if I lost my job. There was no telephone to contact the SEC. Finally, when things had settled down, we returned to Colombo.

I had to first go to Head Office and give a letter of explanation as to why I did not report before the deadline. In the meantime, I learnt that the Chief Engineer (R&D), Dr Sivaprakasapillai, had written to the Personnel Department that that he would guarantee I was not an insurgent and should not be treated as having vacated post. I was very grateful for the confidence he placed in me.

Floating Bodies on the Kelani

On arrival at my site at Peliyagoda, which was almost next to the Kelani River, we could hardly work because dead bodies were floating in the river from time to time. All my workers would run to the river to witness the scene. There was no way of stopping them. The sand dredger of the SEC was set up to pump sand from the river through a large pipeline to the then North-South highway project. The dead bodies would get entangled in the pipeline, and volunteers with hooks fixed to poles would lift the bodies over the pipeline so that they could peacefully float to the sea. Whenever a body was sighted and such was around five a day, traffic on the Negombo road came to a standstill. The horrible sight was a great attraction to many.

The Less Committed Revolutionaries

A colleague of mine at SEC who had many friends at the Ceylon College of Technology, Katubedda (now the University of Moratuwa), knew of the impending the attack. He was following a course to become a mechanical engineer. The insurgents had promised that he would have a role as an earth-moving operator because when they came to power, many development projects would be initiated. My colleague had been quite amused with the offer. He also later told me that some of his friends had hidden bombs in their rooms. That fateful night, the signal would be a total blackout when all those committed to the cause had to slip out into thick darkness with their hand-made bombs. However, when faced with total darkness, some had second thoughts and returned to their rooms, giving up the armed struggle. So much for their commitment to a revolution.

None of my workers were involved. They were the old-school type who believed that their fate was according to their previous “karma” and that, as such, it could not be changed by a revolution. They denounced the revolutionaries.

The lessons learnt

Fortunately, the Government’s Rehabilitation scheme was a saviour for many insurgents. They were allowed to study and even sit for their exams. This included my batchmate, who was completely rehabilitated and is now a citizen of Australia. According to him, he changed his mind when the revolution failed and would often get kicked in prison by the revolutionaries for refusing to sing the revolutionary song which was a daily feature.

Reflecting on this, I realised the power of communication and brainwashing. Sri Lankans generally do not delve deep into anything they hear. They just gobble up anything they are told and, to make matters even worse, will pass it on as if it were the gospel truth. It is a fault of the education system where students are not taught to analyse, discuss and challenge.

Professor Carson from Canada, a lecturer on our MBA programme which I followed in the 1980s, explained his experience teaching Sri Lankan undergraduates. He would come to class and say “Good Morning”; all the students would quickly write it down in their note books. They do not challenge and do not discuss; they repeat the lecture notes at the examination.

In the corporate world, I used newsletters, talk papers, and meetings to convey regularly the institution’s events and performance. I found many misconceptions, even among the senior staff. Many union office bearers who attended my meetings have told me that it is the first time they got to know the actual situation. When there is a vacuum of information, it is easy for mischief makers to fill it with inciting untruths. It is sad to notice that even educated people today are forwarding fake news without verification. While writing this article, I received a WhatsApp message about switching off all phones during the night because of a cosmic ray issue. On checking with NASA’s fact check website, it is clarified as a fake.

Unfortunately, all governments have failed to adequately address this knowledge vacuum despite all the available advanced electronic media sources. I hope the new Government which is closer the grass roots will do a better job.

More episodes of my experiences and lessons will follow in future articles.

(The writer is a Consultant on Productivity and Japanese Management Techniques

Retired Chairman/Director of several Listed and Unlisted companies.)

Awardee of the APO Regional Award for promoting Productivity in the Asia and Pacific Region

Recipient of the “Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Rays” from the Government of Japan.

He can be contacted through email at: bizex.seminarsandconsulting@gmail.com)