Sat Mag
Polonnaruwa: Rise and fall

By Uditha Devapriya
With input from
Pasan Wijesooriya
The chronicles mention Polonnaruwa (Pulaththinagara in Pali) long before its advent as the capital of the country. We come across it in the Culavamsa in connection with the reigns of Aggabodhi IV and Aggabodhi VII, both of whom were residing there at the time of their passing away. A general by the name of Sena, who rebelled against the king of his time, is said to have made it his own capital before facing defeat at the hands of that king, Sena V. By no means infrequent, such encounters bolstered the city’s growing importance. Moreover, at the peak of the Anuradhapura period particularist tendencies had begun to spring up in the south in Rohana. Situated between Rohana and Rajarata, Polonnaruwa offered the ideal outpost from which such tendencies could be put down.
Far more important and pertinent, however, were the shifts of dynastic politics in South India and the concurrent strengthening of the hands of Dravidian mercenaries in Sri Lanka. The infighting between the Pandyans, Colas, and Pallavas on the one hand and the diminution of strength among the Calukyis in the Deccan shifted the locus of South Indian politics from the mainland to the coastline. Indeed, the weakening of the Pallava dynasty in Kanchi and the revival of the Pandya kingdom in Madurai led the Pandyan Srivallabha to invade Sri Lanka, where, supported by local fifth columns, his army, “like the hosts of Mara”, ransacked Anuradhapura “as if it had been plundered by yakkhas.”
Somewhere in the ninth century AD, around 850 AD to be specific, Vijayalala, a general serving the Pallavas who claimed descent from the Colas, moved into and occupied Tanjore; his son, Aditya I, fought and prevailed over the Pandyans 30 years later. More expansionist than its predecessors, the new Cola dynasty sought to conquer Sri Lanka with much more vigour and ruthlessness.
Mahinda IV, perhaps one of the more pragmatist kings the country had, immediately entered into an alliance with the Kalingas of Orissa (or Malaysia, according to Senerat Paranavitana, though this line of reasoning has since been discounted). The decision to enter into such an alliance was based on two considerations: the weakening of the Calukyas, who could otherwise have been counted on as enemy-of-enemy-friend against the Colas, and the historical link between Sri Lanka and Kalinga, going as far back as the Vijayan dynasty. Yet such marriages of convenience – literally, since these new alliances were based on matrimony – could not survive the expansionist aims of the Colas, and thus conditions that had been peaceable, if not negotiable, under Mahinda IV deteriorated under Sena V and Mahinda V. As is usually the case, the blame has to go to the latter two kings for their inefficient and immature statecraft; the Culavamsa describes Mahinda V in particular as being “of very weak character.”
As Anuradhapura disintegrated under these fatal contradictions, the Colas gained in strength; under Rajaraja I and his son Rajendra I, Cola foreign policy became more expansionist than ever before. To the West they held firmly against the Calukyas, but to maintain a balance between the mainland and the coastline, it was felt necessary to encircle the Bay of Bengal.
Sri Lanka hence figured in the Cola scheme of things more significantly than it had done until then, and so, in the first five years of the 11th century, Rajaraja invaded and occupied the northern part of the country. In 1017, Rajendra I expanded into Rohana and captured Mahinda V. The latter became the first Sinhala king to be captured by a foreign force; he would be followed four centuries later by Vira Alakeshwara, this time by a Chinese general. To the reader of Sri Lankan history who sees these incidents as differing only slightly from our tug-of-war vis-à-vis India and China today, it can only be said that such analogies, while unhistorical, are not entirely unjustified.
From their outpost in the north of the country, the Cola administrators turned Polonnaruwa, which they renamed Jananathapura, into a treasury for their shrines and devales. From Polonnaruwa they attempted to control Ruhuna, but ironically, the particularist tendencies that the Anuradhapura kings had tried to quash rose up against the Colas; the latter tried, for instance, to capture Mahinda VI’s son Kassapa (or Vikramabahu), but neither could they defeat him nor could he them. Kassapa’s death was followed by a crisis: no fewer than five chiefs ruled at Rohana, and yet none of them could overcome infighting between themselves to pose a formidable enough threat to the north.
While Rajadhiraja I attempted and failed to bring Rohana under his control, events closer to home threatened to reduce his power and jurisdiction. The Calukyas, who had been beaten off the track by Rajaraja, were back in the game, scaling up the odds against the Colas. Having fallen in battle against the resurgent Calukyas, Rajadhiraja was succeeded by his brother Rajendra II, who held the line, but only barely. Against the backdrop of diminishing military fortunes and depleting treasuries, the Colas quickly switched from encircling the coastline to defending the mainland. Yet their attempts at getting Ruhuna to accept their suzerainty did not let go, with Rajendra II despatching a successful expedition in 1053 or 1054, which in all fairness confirmed the strength of Cola vassals to the north more than it did the diminution of influence among the rulers of Ruhuna.
In any case, whatever hopes the Colas had of a victory in the Deccan and Ruhuna faded away upon the death of their king and his successor, Virarajendra. The latter’s accession to the Cola throne was followed by a dynastic dispute that favoured the new Calukya king, Vikramaditya VI. More ambitious than his predecessors, Vikramaditya VI consolidated power long enough to ward off the possibility of Cola recovery or resurgence; that fed into the rebelliousness of the Pandyans and the Ruhuna rulers. It was against this setting that Vijayabahu, having mounted one campaign after another, claimed victory and was consecrated king in 1073: the first to unify a Sinhala polity in disarray.
Under the trio of kings generally associated with the rise and growth of Polonnaruwa – Vijayabahu, Parakramabahu I, and Nissanka Malla – the state expanded and regained some of the stamina it had lost to the onslaughts of Cola invasion. Yet it would be incorrect, as popular myth holds it, to say that these kings did away completely with Dravidian influence. Vijayabahu, for instance, found it difficult to rule without cooperating with the Velakkaras, a group of mercenaries who had earlier pledged their loyalty to the Colas but now retreated from them; so much of an influence did they gain in the Sinhala court that, during the reign of one of Parakramabahu’s successors, Vikramabahu II, they were able to gain control of the Tooth Relic. Indeed, the allowance made by these Sinhala kings to the Velakkaras indicates that to hold on to power, rulers had to concede some of it to mercenaries.
By itself, this does not, and cannot, explain the disintegration of the Polonnaruwa polity following the death of Nissanka Malla. For an explanation of why the kingdom crumbled down as it did, we should couple it with another crucial factor: the persistence with which Parakramabahu and to a lesser extent Nissanka Malla sought to eliminate particularist tendencies, especially in the south. Parakramabahu, of course, had come to power after waging a series of campaigns against regional polities: he would mount such campaigns even after assuming the crown. This had the effect of quashing any tendency towards regionalism that the state could have mobilised against Kalinga Magha’s intervention in the 13th century. Deprived of a convenient ally, the entire polity instead fell apart.
To these two factors – the presence of Dravidian troops and the repression of particularism – we must add two more: the rate at which the state, in particular under Parakramabahu I, was allowed to expand, plus the carte blanche given to the diversion of state resources to massive works of irrigation and – in the case of Nissanka Malla as well – ambitious, yet costly foreign expeditions.
Regarding the second point, James Handawela, a veteran irrigation officer, has in a book which has unfortunately not got the attention it deserves come up with a novel contention: that far from fostering self-sufficiency in agriculture, Parakramabahu, by investing heavily on massive irrigation works while dragooning labour from farmers engaged in watershed farming, pre-empted the setting up of a viable self-sufficient network. This thesis is controversial, and it has not, to the best of my knowledge, been assessed by any other scholar; it deserves debate and, in the least, re-examination.
To me it raises an important question: to what extent were we self-sufficient? Popular historiography has it that under Parakramabahu I, Polonnaruwa flourished as some sort of a granary of the East. Yet that does not mean the state cut itself off from trade and engagement with the rest of the region: as the anthropologist Eric Wolf has argued, civilisations rooted in a tributary mode of production – which is what Sinhala civilisation was – operated weakly or strongly in relation to other polities. Peaceable as civilisations spread around the Indian Ocean may doubtless have been, then, maritime commerce did to a certain extent shore up antagonisms between these polities. Hence when Parakramabahu I forged closer ties with the Khmer kingdom in Cambodia, Alaungsithu of Burma, which had maintained close politico-religious relations with Sri Lanka, obstructed the latter’s elephant trade with South-East Asia, compelling the king of Polonnaruwa to embark on an expedition to Lower Burma.
As symbolic of the growing importance attached to trade during this period was the emergence of a mercantile community in Sri Lanka. Perhaps the best epigraphic evidence we have for how trade went ahead in Parakramabahu’s reign is the Nainativu Tamil Inscription; one of the oldest such inscriptions in that language unearthed in Jaffna, it offers us glimpses of not just the customs regulations enforced back then, but also the protection meted out to foreigners plus some of the more interesting items we were importing at the time, like (of all merchandise) elephants.
Eric Wolf has shown us how tributary rulers maintained a contradictory attitude to merchants: they allowed the latter to mingle with their societies, but not to the extent of overturning established belief systems and political hierarchies. So it was with Polonnaruwa. Not until several centuries later, after the downfall of the last Sinhala kingdom, would the economy be integrated into, and disfigured by, a system run on plantation and mercantile wealth: capitalist to some, pre-capitalist to me.
Yet as the history of Polonnaruwa vividly shows, we were never completely cut off from the vagaries of trade; it’s just that we remained somewhat unfamiliar with newer systems of exchange developing further to the West. Vinod Moonesinghe puts it better than most in his explanation of the difference between these systems and ours: as much during Polonnaruwa as during Anuradhapura, he contends, “trade was conducted for the benefit of all.” Whether under Parakramabahu or under the kings of the southwest, trade thus remained, if not the cornerstone, then at the centre, of engagement with the rest of the world: hardly the isolationist granary of the East romanticised by many today.
The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com
Sat Mag
October 13 at the Women’s T20 World Cup: Injury concerns for Australia ahead of blockbuster game vs India

Australia vs India
Sharjah, 6pm local time
Australia have major injury concerns heading into the crucial clash. Just four balls into the match against Pakistan, Tayla Vlaeminck was out with a right shoulder dislocation. To make things worse, captain Alyssa Healy suffered an acute right foot injury while batting on 37 as she hobbled off the field with Australia needing 14 runs to win. Both players went for scans on Saturday.
India captain Harmanpreet Kaur who had hurt her neck in the match against Pakistan, turned up with a pain-relief patch on the right side of her neck during the Sri Lanka match. She also didn’t take the field during the chase. Fast bowler Pooja Vastrakar bowled full-tilt before the Sri Lanka game but didn’t play.
India will want a big win against Australia. If they win by more than 61 runs, they will move ahead of Australia, thereby automatically qualifying for the semi-final. In a case where India win by fewer than 60 runs, they will hope New Zealand win by a very small margin against Pakistan on Monday. For instance, if India make 150 against Australia and win by exactly 10 runs, New Zealand need to beat Pakistan by 28 runs defending 150 to go ahead of India’s NRR. If India lose to Australia by more than 17 runs while chasing a target of 151, then New Zealand’s NRR will be ahead of India, even if Pakistan beat New Zealand by just 1 run while defending 150.
Overall, India have won just eight out of 34 T20Is they’ve played against Australia. Two of those wins came in the group-stage games of previous T20 World Cups, in 2018 and 2020.
Australia squad:
Alyssa Healy (capt & wk), Darcie Brown, Ashleigh Gardner, Kim Garth, Grace Harris, Alana King, Phoebe Litchfield, Tahlia McGrath, Sophie Molineux, Beth Mooney, Ellyse Perry, Megan Schutt, Annabel Sutherland, Tayla Vlaeminck, Georgia Wareham
India squad:
Harmanpreet Kaur (capt), Smriti Mandhana (vice-capt), Yastika Bhatia (wk), Shafali Verma, Deepti Sharma, Jemimah Rodrigues, Richa Ghosh (wk), Pooja Vastrakar, Arundhati Reddy, Renuka Singh, D Hemalatha, Asha Sobhana, Radha Yadav, Shreyanka Patil, S Sajana
Tournament form guide:
Australia have three wins in three matches and are coming into this contest having comprehensively beaten Pakistan. With that win, they also all but sealed a semi-final spot thanks to their net run rate of 2.786. India have two wins in three games. In their previous match, they posted the highest total of the tournament so far – 172 for 3 and in return bundled Sri Lanka out for 90 to post their biggest win by runs at the T20 World Cup.
Players to watch:
Two of their best batters finding their form bodes well for India heading into the big game. Harmanpreet and Mandhana’s collaborative effort against Pakistan boosted India’s NRR with the semi-final race heating up. Mandhana, after a cautious start to her innings, changed gears and took on Sri Lanka’s spinners to make 50 off 38 balls. Harmanpreet, continuing from where she’d left against Pakistan, played a classic, hitting eight fours and a six on her way to a 27-ball 52. It was just what India needed to reinvigorate their T20 World Cup campaign.
[Cricinfo]
Sat Mag
Living building challenge

By Eng. Thushara Dissanayake
The primitive man lived in caves to get shelter from the weather. With the progression of human civilization, people wanted more sophisticated buildings to fulfill many other needs and were able to accomplish them with the help of advanced technologies. Security, privacy, storage, and living with comfort are the common requirements people expect today from residential buildings. In addition, different types of buildings are designed and constructed as public, commercial, industrial, and even cultural or religious with many advanced features and facilities to suit different requirements.
We are facing many environmental challenges today. The most severe of those is global warming which results in many negative impacts, like floods, droughts, strong winds, heatwaves, and sea level rise due to the melting of glaciers. We are experiencing many of those in addition to some local issues like environmental pollution. According to estimates buildings account for nearly 40% of all greenhouse gas emissions. In light of these issues, we have two options; we change or wait till the change comes to us. Waiting till the change come to us means that we do not care about our environment and as a result we would have to face disastrous consequences. Then how can we change in terms of building construction?
Before the green concept and green building practices come into play majority of buildings in Sri Lanka were designed and constructed just focusing on their intended functional requirements. Hence, it was much likely that the whole process of design, construction, and operation could have gone against nature unless done following specific regulations that would minimize negative environmental effects.
We can no longer proceed with the way we design our buildings which consumes a huge amount of material and non-renewable energy. We are very concerned about the food we eat and the things we consume. But we are not worrying about what is a building made of. If buildings are to become a part of our environment we have to design, build and operate them based on the same principles that govern the natural world. Eventually, it is not about the existence of the buildings, it is about us. In other words, our buildings should be a part of our natural environment.
The living building challenge is a remarkable design philosophy developed by American architect Jason F. McLennan the founder of the International Living Future Institute (ILFI). The International Living Future Institute is an environmental NGO committed to catalyzing the transformation toward communities that are socially just, culturally rich, and ecologically restorative. Accordingly, a living building must meet seven strict requirements, rather certifications, which are called the seven “petals” of the living building. They are Place, Water, Energy, Equity, Materials, Beauty, and Health & Happiness. Presently there are about 390 projects around the world that are being implemented according to Living Building certification guidelines. Let us see what these seven petals are.
Place
This is mainly about using the location wisely. Ample space is allocated to grow food. The location is easily accessible for pedestrians and those who use bicycles. The building maintains a healthy relationship with nature. The objective is to move away from commercial developments to eco-friendly developments where people can interact with nature.
Water
It is recommended to use potable water wisely, and manage stormwater and drainage. Hence, all the water needs are captured from precipitation or within the same system, where grey and black waters are purified on-site and reused.
Energy
Living buildings are energy efficient and produce renewable energy. They operate in a pollution-free manner without carbon emissions. They rely only on solar energy or any other renewable energy and hence there will be no energy bills.
Equity
What if a building can adhere to social values like equity and inclusiveness benefiting a wider community? Yes indeed, living buildings serve that end as well. The property blocks neither fresh air nor sunlight to other adjacent properties. In addition, the building does not block any natural water path and emits nothing harmful to its neighbors. On the human scale, the equity petal recognizes that developments should foster an equitable community regardless of an individual’s background, age, class, race, gender, or sexual orientation.
Materials
Materials are used without harming their sustainability. They are non-toxic and waste is minimized during the construction process. The hazardous materials traditionally used in building components like asbestos, PVC, cadmium, lead, mercury, and many others are avoided. In general, the living buildings will not consist of materials that could negatively impact human or ecological health.
Beauty
Our physical environments are not that friendly to us and sometimes seem to be inhumane. In contrast, a living building is biophilic (inspired by nature) with aesthetical designs that beautify the surrounding neighborhood. The beauty of nature is used to motivate people to protect and care for our environment by connecting people and nature.
Health & Happiness
The building has a good indoor and outdoor connection. It promotes the occupants’ physical and psychological health while causing no harm to the health issues of its neighbors. It consists of inviting stairways and is equipped with operable windows that provide ample natural daylight and ventilation. Indoor air quality is maintained at a satisfactory level and kitchen, bathrooms, and janitorial areas are provided with exhaust systems. Further, mechanisms placed in entrances prevent any materials carried inside from shoes.
The Bullitt Center building
Bullitt Center located in the middle of Seattle in the USA, is renowned as the world’s greenest commercial building and the first office building to earn Living Building certification. It is a six-story building with an area of 50,000 square feet. The area existed as a forest before the city was built. Hence, the Bullitt Center building has been designed to mimic the functions of a forest.
The energy needs of the building are purely powered by the solar system on the rooftop. Even though Seattle is relatively a cloudy city the Bullitt Center has been able to produce more energy than it needed becoming one of the “net positive” solar energy buildings in the world. The important point is that if a building is energy efficient only the area of the roof is sufficient to generate solar power to meet its energy requirement.
It is equipped with an automated window system that is able to control the inside temperature according to external weather conditions. In addition, a geothermal heat exchange system is available as the source of heating and cooling for the building. Heat pumps convey heat stored in the ground to warm the building in the winter. Similarly, heat from the building is conveyed into the ground during the summer.
The potable water needs of the building are achieved by treating rainwater. The grey water produced from the building is treated and re-used to feed rooftop gardens on the third floor. The black water doesn’t need a sewer connection as it is treated to a desirable level and sent to a nearby wetland while human biosolid is diverted to a composting system. Further, nearly two third of the rainwater collected from the roof is fed into the groundwater and the process resembles the hydrologic function of a forest.
It is encouraging to see that most of our large-scale buildings are designed and constructed incorporating green building concepts, which are mainly based on environmental sustainability. The living building challenge can be considered an extension of the green building concept. Amanda Sturgeon, the former CEO of the ILFI, has this to say in this regard. “Before we start a project trying to cram in every sustainable solution, why not take a step outside and just ask the question; what would nature do”?
Sat Mag
Something of a revolution: The LSSP’s “Great Betrayal” in retrospect

By Uditha Devapriya
On June 7, 1964, the Central Committee of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party convened a special conference at which three resolutions were presented. The first, moved by N. M. Perera, called for a coalition with the SLFP, inclusive of any ministerial portfolios. The second, led by the likes of Colvin R. de Silva, Leslie Goonewardena, and Bernard Soysa, advocated a line of critical support for the SLFP, but without entering into a coalition. The third, supported by the likes of Edmund Samarakkody and Bala Tampoe, rejected any form of compromise with the SLFP and argued that the LSSP should remain an independent party.
The conference was held a year after three parties – the LSSP, the Communist Party, and Philip Gunawardena’s Mahajana Eksath Peramuna – had founded a United Left Front. The ULF’s formation came in the wake of a spate of strikes against the Sirimavo Bandaranaike government. The previous year, the Ceylon Transport Board had waged a 17-day strike, and the harbour unions a 60-day strike. In 1963 a group of working-class organisations, calling itself the Joint Committee of Trade Unions, began mobilising itself. It soon came up with a common programme, and presented a list of 21 radical demands.
In response to these demands, Bandaranaike eventually supported a coalition arrangement with the left. In this she was opposed, not merely by the right-wing of her party, led by C. P. de Silva, but also those in left parties opposed to such an agreement, including Bala Tampoe and Edmund Samarakkody. Until then these parties had never seen the SLFP as a force to reckon with: Leslie Goonewardena, for instance, had characterised it as “a Centre Party with a programme of moderate reforms”, while Colvin R. de Silva had described it as “capitalist”, no different to the UNP and by default as bourgeois as the latter.
The LSSP’s decision to partner with the government had a great deal to do with its changing opinions about the SLFP. This, in turn, was influenced by developments abroad. In 1944, the Fourth International, which the LSSP had affiliated itself with in 1940 following its split with the Stalinist faction, appointed Michel Pablo as its International Secretary. After the end of the war, Pablo oversaw a shift in the Fourth International’s attitude to the Soviet states in Eastern Europe. More controversially, he began advocating a strategy of cooperation with mass organisations, regardless of their working-class or radical credentials.
Pablo argued that from an objective perspective, tensions between the US and the Soviet Union would lead to a “global civil war”, in which the Soviet Union would serve as a midwife for world socialist revolution. In such a situation the Fourth International would have to take sides. Here he advocated a strategy of entryism vis-à-vis Stalinist parties: since the conflict was between Stalinist and capitalist regimes, he reasoned, it made sense to see the former as allies. Such a strategy would, in his opinion, lead to “integration” into a mass movement, enabling the latter to rise to the level of a revolutionary movement.
Though controversial, Pablo’s line is best seen in the context of his times. The resurgence of capitalism after the war, and the boom in commodity prices, had a profound impact on the course of socialist politics in the Third World. The stunted nature of the bourgeoisie in these societies had forced left parties to look for alternatives. For a while, Trotsky had been their guide: in colonial and semi-colonial societies, he had noted, only the working class could be expected to see through a revolution. This entailed the establishment of workers’ states, but only those arising from a proletarian revolution: a proposition which, logically, excluded any compromise with non-radical “alternatives” to the bourgeoisie.
To be sure, the Pabloites did not waver in their support for workers’ states. However, they questioned whether such states could arise only from a proletarian revolution. For obvious reasons, their reasoning had great relevance for Trotskyite parties in the Third World. The LSSP’s response to them showed this well: while rejecting any alliance with Stalinist parties, the LSSP sympathised with the Pabloites’ advocacy of entryism, which involved a strategic orientation towards “reformist politics.” For the world’s oldest Trotskyite party, then going through a series of convulsions, ruptures, and splits, the prospect of entering the reformist path without abandoning its radical roots proved to be welcoming.
Writing in the left-wing journal Community in 1962, Hector Abhayavardhana noted some of the key concerns that the party had tried to resolve upon its formation. Abhayavardhana traced the LSSP’s origins to three developments: international communism, the freedom struggle in India, and local imperatives. The latter had dictated the LSSP’s manifesto in 1936, which included such demands as free school books and the use of Sinhala and Tamil in the law courts. Abhayavardhana suggested, correctly, that once these imperatives changed, so would the party’s focus, though within a revolutionary framework. These changes would be contingent on two important factors: the establishment of universal franchise in 1931, and the transfer of power to the local bourgeoisie in 1948.
Paradoxical as it may seem, the LSSP had entered the arena of radical politics through the ballot box. While leading the struggle outside parliament, it waged a struggle inside it also. This dual strategy collapsed when the colonial government proscribed the party and the D. S. Senanayake government disenfranchised plantation Tamils. Suffering two defeats in a row, the LSSP was forced to think of alternatives. That meant rethinking categories such as class, and grounding them in the concrete realities of the country.
This was more or less informed by the irrelevance of classical and orthodox Marxian analysis to the situation in Sri Lanka, specifically to its rural society: with a “vast amorphous mass of village inhabitants”, Abhayavardhana observed, there was no real basis in the country for a struggle “between rich owners and the rural poor.” To complicate matters further, reforms like the franchise and free education, which had aimed at the emancipation of the poor, had in fact driven them away from “revolutionary inclinations.” The result was the flowering of a powerful rural middle-class, which the LSSP, to its discomfort, found it could not mobilise as much as it had the urban workers and plantation Tamils.
Where else could the left turn to? The obvious answer was the rural peasantry. But the rural peasantry was in itself incapable of revolution, as Hector Abhayavardhana has noted only too clearly. While opposing the UNP’s Westernised veneer, it did not necessarily oppose the UNP’s overtures to Sinhalese nationalism. As historians like K. M. de Silva have observed, the leaders of the UNP did not see their Westernised ethos as an impediment to obtaining support from the rural masses. That, in part at least, was what motivated the Senanayake government to deprive Indian estate workers of their most fundamental rights, despite the existence of pro-minority legal safeguards in the Soulbury Constitution.
To say this is not to overlook the unique character of the Sri Lankan rural peasantry and petty bourgeoisie. Orthodox Marxists, not unjustifiably, characterise the latter as socially and politically conservative, tilting more often than not to the right. In Sri Lanka, this has frequently been the case: they voted for the UNP in 1948 and 1952, and voted en masse against the SLFP in 1977. Yet during these years they also tilted to the left, if not the centre-left: it was the petty bourgeoisie, after all, which rallied around the SLFP, and supported its more important reforms, such as the nationalisation of transport services.
One must, of course, be wary of pasting the radical tag on these measures and the classes that ostensibly stood for them. But if the Trotskyite critique of the bourgeoisie – that they were incapable of reform, even less revolution – holds valid, which it does, then the left in the former colonies of the Third World had no alternative but to look elsewhere and to be, as Abhayavardhana noted, “practical men” with regard to electoral politics. The limits within which they had to work in Sri Lanka meant that, in the face of changing dynamics, especially among the country’s middle-classes, they had to change their tactics too.
Meanwhile, in 1953, the Trotskyite critique of Pabloism culminated with the publication of an Open Letter by James Cannon, of the US Socialist Workers’ Party. Cannon criticised the Pabloite line, arguing that it advocated a policy of “complete submission.” The publication of the letter led to the withdrawal of the International Committee of the Fourth International from the International Secretariat. The latter, led by Pablo, continued to influence socialist parties in the Third World, advocating temporary alliances with petty bourgeois and centrist formations in the guise of opposing capitalist governments.
For the LSSP, this was a much-needed opening. Even as late as 1954, three years after S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike formed the SLFP, the LSSP continued to characterise the latter as the alternative bourgeois party in Ceylon. Yet this did not deter it from striking up no contest pacts with Bandaranaike at the 1956 election, a strategy that went back to November 1951, when the party requested the SLFP to hold a discussion about the possibility of eliminating contests in the following year’s elections. Though it extended critical support to the MEP government in 1956, the LSSP opposed the latter once it enacted emergency measures in 1957, mobilising trade union action for a period of three years.
At the 1960 election the LSSP contested separately, with the slogan “N. M. for P.M.” Though Sinhala nationalism no longer held sway as it had in 1956, the LSSP found itself reduced to a paltry 10 seats. It was against this backdrop that it began rethinking its strategy vis-à-vis the ruling party. At the throne speech in April 1960, Perera openly declared that his party would not stabilise the SLFP. But a month later, in May, he called a special conference, where he moved a resolution for a coalition with the party. As T. Perera has noted in his biography of Edmund Samarakkody, the response to the resolution unearthed two tendencies within the oppositionist camp: the “hardliners” who opposed any compromise with the SLFP, including Samarakkody, and the “waverers”, including Leslie Goonewardena.
These tendencies expressed themselves more clearly at the 1964 conference. While the first resolution by Perera called for a complete coalition, inclusive of Ministries, and the second rejected a coalition while extending critical support, the third rejected both tactics. The outcome of the conference showed which way these tendencies had blown since they first manifested four years earlier: Perera’s resolution obtained more than 500 votes, the second 75 votes, the third 25. What the anti-coalitionists saw as the “Great Betrayal” of the LSSP began here: in a volte-face from its earlier position, the LSSP now held the SLFP as a party of a radical petty bourgeoisie, capable of reform.
History has not been kind to the LSSP’s decision. From 1970 to 1977, a period of less than a decade, these strategies enabled it, as well as the Communist Party, to obtain a number of Ministries, as partners of a petty bourgeois establishment. This arrangement collapsed the moment the SLFP turned to the right and expelled the left from its ranks in 1975, in a move which culminated with the SLFP’s own dissolution two years later.
As the likes of Samarakkody and Meryl Fernando have noted, the SLFP needed the LSSP and Communist Party, rather than the other way around. In the face of mass protests and strikes in 1962, the SLFP had been on the verge of complete collapse. The anti-coalitionists in the LSSP, having established themselves as the LSSP-R, contended later on that the LSSP could have made use of this opportunity to topple the government.
Whether or not the LSSP could have done this, one can’t really tell. However, regardless of what the LSSP chose to do, it must be pointed out that these decades saw the formation of several regimes in the Third World which posed as alternatives to Stalinism and capitalism. Moreover, the LSSP’s decision enabled it to see through certain important reforms. These included Workers’ Councils. Critics of these measures can point out, as they have, that they could have been implemented by any other regime. But they weren’t. And therein lies the rub: for all its failings, and for a brief period at least, the LSSP-CP-SLFP coalition which won elections in 1970 saw through something of a revolution in the country.
The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist based in Sri Lanka who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com
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