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Learning from failures: Which way for the JVP-NPP?

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By Uditha Devapriya

The World Socialist Website (WSWS) quotes Anura Kumara Dissanayake, in a television programme, as admitting that Sri Lanka has no choice but “to go to the IMF.” It cites him as saying that Sri Lankans need to bear the cost of doing so to a certain extent, that they are fed up of the political mainstream, and that they demand an “exemplary group” in politics. The WSWS’s view of the JVP-NPP being generally unfavourable, it sees in the party leader’s remarks an example of his party’s capitalist credentials: it is, the editors of the site note, no different to the right-wing outfits it opposes, in the sense that it supports the same policies, the same paradigms and frameworks, that they do.

I am not in agreement with the WSWS’s characterisation of the JVP-NPP as capitalist. As with almost all its verdicts on local politics, this one seems harsh, a tad unfair. Yet it is true that the New Left, of which the JVP-NPP is the leading light, has regressed if not departed from its traditional positions and its radical-anarchist origins. No doubt it has done so with the aim of attaching itself to new social classes, new milieus, and new political positions. As I observed in this paper in 2021, the JVP-NPP is moving to a liberal “centrist” mainstream. In doing so, it is abandoning its earlier stances, be it on the IMF, China, the financial crisis, or private education. However, it has been unable to achieve this break. Thus it remains caught between two worlds, incapable of making the transition it wants.

Perhaps the most intriguing example of these shifts is Dr Nalinda Jayatissa’s recent remarks on Sajith Premadasa’s school bus donation project. I understand where the JVP-NPP’s criticism is coming from. They are, as a friend commented to me recently, in a “permanent state of opposition” against every other political outfit, so naturally they see Premadasa’s initiative as suspect. However, for a party that touts radical politics, it is tragicomic that the best that one of its leading parliamentarians can come up with, as a critique of the project, is an insult which compares the Leader of the Opposition to a bus driver. Call them for what they are: such comparisons are not only condescending, they are also classist.

The insult, moreover, targets not merely a bus driver, but specifically a State bus driver. The JVP-NPP has historically coveted mass support from government trade unions. A remark like Jayatissa’s not only hits government sector workers in their face; it also raises all the wrong assumptions about where the leadership of the country belongs to. I do not always agree with Sajith Premadasa’s views, but his response to Jayatissa was correct: even an SLTB bus driver must get the chance to rise to the top. Besides, it is not unreasonable to assume that bus drivers, particularly those drawn from the country’s youth, have more progressive views on politics and economics than most of our MPs. To imply that such a person cannot go to the top, in that sense, is to affirm the class hierarchies the JVP-NPP claims it opposes. Whichever way one looks at it, this is the only conclusion one can reach.

Such remarks also contradict the JVP-NPP’s rhetoric during last year’s aragalaya. However, I would not be so hasty as to say that there is an impenetrable gulf between what that party said then and what it is saying now. As I mentioned two weeks ago in this paper, the bulk of the protests were dominated by a middle-class that was anarchist in its outlook, yet socially and economically to the right. Against such a context, the JVP-NPP engaged in something of a balancing act, mobilising unions and civil society activists while allying itself with a middle-class that has, historically, been opposed to its economic policies.

In that sense, it is not surprising that the JVP-NPP can, in the same breath and during the same year, publish tweets critical of the IMF and the World Bank (as Dr Harini Amarasuriya did), then admit that there is no choice but to go to these institutions; protest against the privatisation of education, then admit on television that the State needs to team up with the private sector in tertiary education (as Dr Nalinda Jayatissa did); raise concerns about the Port City transforming Sri Lanka into a “Chinese province” (as Anura Kumara Dissanayake did), then send a congratulatory missive to the Communist Party of China (CPC) praising the latter’s contribution to the struggle against “Western imperialism.”

There is a simple, logical explanation to all these turnarounds. The JVP’s entry to parliament, in 1994, initially led to a surge in its representation. From Day One, however, the party was saddled with a number of contradictions. Over the next few decades these contributed to two key ruptures: the defection of its nationalist wing, led by Wimal Weerawansa, in 2008, and the breakaway of the FSP, which now more or less dominates the Student Left, in 2012. These, combined with its decision to support and ally with the Chandrika Kumaratunga and Mahinda Rajapaksa governments and then leave them, compelled the JVP to adopt a hard-line stance vis-à-vis other formations. In doing so, it has been forced to confront its past, a past it has never spoken about properly: an attitude decidedly conducive to its dilly-dallying between its anarchist origins and its flirtations with the middle-class today.

What is objectionable in all this is not that the party is engaged in a transition, but that it has been attempting and failing to achieve that transition. Two factors have contributed to this morass. One, the party’s inability to reconcile its present with its past and to indicate once and for all whether or not it is willing, and able, to abandon the latter. Two, the “permanent state of opposition” it has attuned itself to over the last few decades, vis-à-vis not just other parties, but also its past policies. From such a state of affairs, only the faintest parody of a party can materialise. To ascertain whether it can salvage itself from this cul-de-sac hence is to see whether it is willing to address these two issues and resolve them.

That it is confused over where it wants to go and be in can be gleaned from its most recent manifesto. While the party, in keeping with its recent middle-class orientation, dwells at considerable length on liberal political principles in its sections on political and systemic reforms, it retains something of its past in the sections on economic reforms, where the authors state that they are in favour of a reversal of the post-1977 neoliberal order and of statist measures like import controls and import substitution. The merits of these positions do not concern me here: there may be value to such proposals. What intrigues me, though, is how, within the same document, and a potential manifesto at that, a party can sustain a contradiction between its political principles and its economic positions. What that betrays, more than anything, is that the party lacks the proverbial fire in the belly.

It would be simple, of course, to attribute all this to the JVP-NPP’s paranoia – a strong word that nevertheless, for me, conveys, something of the sentiments of the party on political issues today – over the Wimal Weerawansa and Kumar Gunaratnam defections. Yet this in itself does not validate the party’s behaviour, not least because while Weerawansa has won electoral support as an adjunct of larger nationalist formations – of which the Rajapaksist SLFP and SLPP are the prime examples – and Gunaratnam’s party, the FSP, has failed to gain parliamentary representation, the JVP-NPP has maintained somewhat respectable numbers in the legislature. To be sure, its fortunes have considerably dimmed. But the JVP remains, then as now, a viable third force: probably not as much a kingmaker as parties that cling on to the two major parties are, but a significant force nevertheless.

In any case, I would hesitate to ground the party’s behaviour in the actions of its dissenting and breakaway factions. I would rather locate it in the nature of the Sri Lankan New Left itself, a group that encompasses the FSP as well as unions and activist groups affiliated to the FSP and JVP-NPP. My view of the New Left differs considerably from its champions and detractors. Both these groups see it as promoting a radical, systemic change in the country. I would contend, on the other hand, that the New Left has let go of its earlier concerns with discourses of production, manufacturing, and food security, and embraced a social welfarist (or “Proudhonist”) outlook which has sapped it of the moral power that the Left possessed in economic debates not too long ago. This has made it a captive of lower middle-class, or as the New Left’s Marxist critics would call it, petty bourgeois interests, which remain ignorant of, even opposed to, the kind of radical economic measures the country needs.

I am not calling for the New Left, of which the dominant party in terms of parliamentary representation is the JVP-NPP, to abandon or neglect its concerns with workers’ rights and welfare. But in a context where trade unionisation in Sri Lanka is limited to the government sector, the conflict, or dichotomy, is no longer between the forces of labour and the forces of capital: they are, as a friend of mine argued correctly, between workers’ collectives in the public sector and the taxpayers who contribute to the government coffers. There is simply not a strong enough base here on which the Left, leave alone the New Left, can mobilise an entire country against an economic system. To assert itself more, I would hence suggest that the JVP-NPP move into alternative socialist economic paradigms, chiefly industrialisation. In doing so, it will be able to reconcile its past and present with its future: a welcome change in an outfit that has much potential, as it always has had, as a truly third force.

The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.



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The Run-Up To The General Elections of July 1977

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Sri Lanka Cabinet Ministers of 23 July 1977

The General Elections were drawing near. There was concurrently a disturbing trend manifesting itself. A vociferous group were demanding that the elections be postponed for a further period, because the government was unable to complete its “progressive” social and economic programme, due to reasons beyond its control such as the insurgency of 1971. the oil price hike, the food crisis and so on. These arguments were patently absurd. The government had already extended its term of office by two years consequent to the introduction of the new constitution.

Now, a group of people were orchestrating a campaign for a further extension. At various public meetings where the Prime Minister attended, members of this group raised their voices and demanded a further extension of time. It appeared to take the form of a popular agitation exerting pressure on the government. No doubt, various persons holding similar views would have been speaking to the Prime Minister personally about the same issue. The whole thing seemed well orchestrated.

It was in this context that one day, she asked my opinion about the matter. I replied that I had always spoken absolutely frankly to her on any and all matters, and in the same spirit all I could say was that any attempt to extend the life of the government would be a total disaster, both for herself and the country. I went on to speak about her considerable achievements, as the world’s first woman Prime Minister; probably also as the first woman to be leader of the opposition in a parliamentary democracy, Head of the Non-Aligned Movement; honouredby the ILO, by their invitation to her, to deliver the keynote address at one of their inaugural sessions; honoured by the FAO by the award of the CERES medal in recognition of her personal and successful leadership of the food production drive consequent to the difficulties of 1974/75; honoured by the United Nations by their invitation to her to deliver the keynote address, at the first UN Conference on Women and Development and other achievements.

Then I told her that if elections were not held at the proper time, the position in the country could get unmanageable, and she would face the charge of destroying democracy in Sri Lanka. I had to be hard, because it was evident that many people had created for her, some kind of fantasy world, and she was getting confused. As was customary, she listened to what I had to say with grace and thanked me for being candid. Then she said, “l have asked WT also, and he said the same thing.”

That was the Prime Minister. She was always prepared to listen to different views, after which, she made up her mind. The dose of reality administered by WT Jayasinghe and myself, two public servants who had nothing to do with politics, would no doubt have helped her to take the final decision of holding elections.

Dealing with political personalities

Before I get to the election itself, I wish to refer to one or two other matters. One of the more important of these relates to some of the political personalities I had to work with, other than the Prime Minister. These included the Minister of Trade, Mr. TB Illangaratne; Mr. Hector Kobbekaduwa, Minister of Agriculture and Dr. Colvin R. de Silva, Minister of Plantation Industries, among others. My dealings with Mr. Maithripala Senanayake, I will refer to separately.

The fact was, that at some time or other one had to deal with practically all members of the Cabinet, since all of them had some business to transact with the Prime Minister’s Office at various times. Some of the ministers I have mentioned had more to do with us, both because of their seniority and the sensitive and important nature of their portfolios. My policy was equal attention and equal treatment for everyone. The internal politics between them did not concern me; neither did the state of relations between the parties in the coalition.

These were political issues that had to be resolved at other fora. I saw my job as attending fairly and diligently to any request or advice sought. There was a creative element in this, because, knowing the prime minister’s mind on many matters I was at times able to steer ministers and others away from courses of action which could have negative consequences. Therefore, many ministers dropped in to discuss some sensitive matter or sometimes to seek advice how best to handle a given situation with the prime minister.

They knew that they could repose trust in the confidentiality of such conversations. At the same time, when I thought that the prime minister had to be briefed on some developing situation, I always said openly that I would have to do so. In some circumstances, the relevant minister and I. only discussed a suitable approach. I did not view my duty to the prime minister as one entailing the carrying of tales or the retailing of gossip and rumours.

However, whenever relevant, gossip and rumours were checked out, because beneath them could lie some real problems. Occasionally, when something was beyond our competence to check, and if it looked important enough the prime minister was briefed. This approach begot a great deal of trust and confidence, so much so that on one occasion, Dr. Colvin R. de Silva told me that he as well as others in the LSSP were extremely sorry that I would not be available for appointment, when a vacancy occurred in the post of Secretary, in the Ministry of Communications, a ministry then held by Mr. Leslie Goonewardena, a senior LSSP minister. In his booming voice, he paid me the compliment of saying that they were not only looking for a secretary but also “a man.”

Besides dealing with ministers and government personalities, the secretary to the prime minister had also to deal with many opposition personalities. They received the same treatment as anybody else. If a request was valid, one worked to grant it. If in a particular instance, politics were proving to be an irrelevant and extraneous factor, one proceeded to remove it. Sometimes, this necessitated talking to the prime minister, and if she too were inclined to see only the politics, one analyzed the issue and pointed out that politics had no relevance to the issue, and that in her position she had to do the right thing. All this meant extra work and effort, but I considered it as part of a duty that had to be performed.

In this context, I was able at times to resolve genuine problems faced by opposition MP’s and personalities such as Mr. R. Premadasa, Mr. Gamini Dissanayake, Mr. Lalith Athulathmudali and others. My belief was that the prime minister’s office of a country should act fairly and justly on all matters referred to it subject to overall government policy. When the occasion so demanded, my endeavour was to point out that irrelevant or extraneous considerations could not be the foundation of good policy. They could be petty revengeful acts, harassment or abuse of power, but never policy, and it was my firm belief that those at the helm of affairs of a country should always distinguish between these.

All these meant an addition to an already nearly crippling workload. There were even times when one continued to work when one had fever, in order to meet impending deadlines. Indeed, there were a few occasions during the seven years I held this post, that when I eventually reached home in the night my temperature had risen to over 104°F.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of Dharmasiri Peiris, Secretary to the Prime Minister)

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The Paradox of Trump

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Trump

By Uditha Devapriya

In a fortnight marked by dramatic shifts in US foreign policy, particularly on Ukraine and more predictably on Gaza, the changes being wrought by the Trump administration on its immigration policies should not come as a surprise. Yet immigration policies may become the lynchpin of Trump’s approach to the world and his allies. For it’s not just undocumented migrants, drug peddlers, and criminals who are facing the risk of detention or deportation: it’s also citizens of some of Washington’s key allies, including Germany and France. Most if not all of them have complained of harassment and aggressive interrogations, though US immigration officials have denied such claims.

The question is not how Trump can do the seemingly impossible – balancing between the withdrawal of US foreign aid from countries that desperately need assistance, harsh treatment of visa holders from US allied countries, and his rhetoric of being a peacemaker and a dealmaker on the world stage – but whether, in all seriousness, he wants to do it. The problem with many of Trump’s critics – on both the left and the centre – is that they rationalise his actions as part of a wider agenda, when that may not necessarily be the case. True, there is much more predictability – for better or worse – with his policies now, compared to his first term. Yet while there is much madness in his policies and the way he enacts them, there seems to be no proper, cogent method to them, yet.

The other problem is that Trump is launching a full-frontal assault on several fronts, and to isolate the one from the others would be ridiculous. It is hard to pick and choose because, at one strange level, they are all connected. They are implicitly driven by Trump’s brand of isolationism, in which might is right, big fish eat small fish, and, even in rhetoric, moral standards no longer constitute the weight of domestic or foreign policies. The danger with this approach, at least for the Trump administration, is that US institutions have been so used to the opposite of what they are trying to achieve that it will prove to be difficult if not impossible to see these policies through in the longer term.

The US is regularly promoted as a haven for migrants: it is what constitutes the “American Dream” and what has sustained the myth of the melting pot since at least the late 19th century. For better or worse, that myth has come to be accepted as concrete fact, and for the better part of the last century, it is what propelled US soft power on the world stage. Whatever its faults are, the United States has never been short on exchange programmes, fellowships, scholarships, and other initiatives, all sponsored by the State Department, which projected to the world a positive, benevolent image of that country. True, those among us who read and have read on US foreign policy and history know that there was a carefully orchestrated façade beneath these initiatives, that the US, like other powerful countries, has resorted to power and force in the most dubious of circumstances.

Yet immigration, especially during the Cold War, became a sine qua non of US diplomacy. Successive presidents starting from Truman and Eisenhower used their powers to admit migrants from Communist and other seemingly “authoritarian” states. Kennedy started the Peace Corps and USAID, and Senator Fulbright sponsored arguably the US’s most coveted global scholarship programme. All these developments took place against the backdrop of a never-ending battle of hearts and minds with the Soviets and the Chinese, culminating in the South-East Asian wars of the 1960s and 1970s and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. The latter marked a turning point in the Cold War: it was the beginning of the end for the Soviet Union. Throughout this period, immigration enabled Washington to claim, not unjustifiably, that whatever its failings were, it at least allowed the young and independent-minded from other parts of the world to come in and prosper.

It is too early to say whether Trump will undo in five years what the country built up in 50. But the travel advisories now being imposed by the US’s staunchest allies, including Germany, indicate a turnaround that the world will take time to adjust to. What the last few weeks have demonstrated is the level of resistance to Executive overreach but also the degree to which the Executive can override otherwise independent institutions, including of course the Judiciary. Every other major official, from the president himself to Elon Musk, Marco Rubio, and Stephen Miller, not to mention the White House Spokesperson, have lambasted “radical left” judges for supposedly disobeying Trump’s orders, claiming it to be a usurpation of democracy. This has been especially true of the judiciary’s confrontations with Trump’s deportation policies and detention orders.

Trump is, in all respects, every US liberal’s nightmare. Yet he is the embodiment of the kind of disruptive politics that was bound to take root in Washington, sooner or later. If Trump’s first term indicated anything, it was that the Democrats need to shield themselves more proactively against the possibility of a second term. In this, however, they failed, partly because of their own willingness to go tough and swing to the right on many issues that Trump officials are doubling down on.

The Democrats now face the unprecedented dilemma of either opposing Trump, especially on issues like immigration, or being depicted by the right-wing press, and Trump’s acolytes, as evil incarnate. Chuck Schumer’s response to this problem was to support the Republican funding bill. If at all, such developments suggest that Democrats are still not awake to the possibilities of an unhinged Trump presidency, and that when they do wake up, it may be too late – both for themselves and the rest of the world.

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More parliamentary giants I was privileged to know

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Lalith Athulathmudali

Lalith Athulathmudali served Parliament for over 14 years as the UNP MP for Ratmalana. He held several important ministerial portfolios. Among these were Minister of Trade and Shipping, Minister of National Security, Deputy Minister of Defense, Minister for Agriculture, Food and Cooperatives as well as Minister of Education and Higher Education.

I initially came to know Lalith as a student at Royal College , though he was a few years younger to me. At Royal he shone exceptionally winning many of the College prizes and excelling in sports, especially athletics. His father Don Daniel Athulathmudali was a Barrister-at-Law and served in the First State Council (1931-1935).

1 distinctly remember his father attending the Royal College prize giving to see his son winning so many prizes and saying that he was keen to send him to Oxford. After his college education he went up to Oxford University where he excelled in the academic fields and brought honour to himself and his country by being the first Sri Lankan to be elected as the President of the Oxford Union. He became a Barrister-at -Law in the UK. He returned to Sri Lanka and made a mark as a lawyer and lecturer in law here as he had in Israel and Singapore.

Having earned many tributes for his eloquence, he was appointed to the 1977 JR Jayewardene cabinet first holding the Ministry of Trade and Shipping and later other other important assignments including Minister of National Security and Minister of Education. As Minister of National Security and Deputy Minister of Defence he proved his mettle during the height of the war against the LTTE. He was responsible for founding the Mahapola Scholarships which, till today, grants students at state universities substantial financial help to continue their university studies.

August 18, 1987, is a day I will never forget. President Jayawardena was in Parliament to address his party’s parliamentary group meeting. The day ended in mayhem with a grenade thrown into the meeting room. As I entered it after the explosion, Lalith lay on a stretcher but was conscious even though he was bleeding profusely from his back. Later I heard he had been seriously injured by the grenade that was thrown into the room as it had ricocheted off the polished table at which President Jayewardene and Prime Minister Premadasa sat and landed under the chair Lalith was seated in the front row making a hole about eight inches wide in the ground.

Lalith was swiftly taken in the ambulance I had placed outside the Member’s Entrance to the House to deal with any possible emergency via the back entrance to Parliament, to the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital where he was given immediate medical attention. Lalith had especially requested that his doctor friend Dr. K. Yoheswaran be summoned to attend to him. I knew Dr Yoheswaran well too as my late brother, Nissanka Seneviratne, Professor of Physiology and he had been fellow House Officers at the General Hospital many years back. Moreover, my daughter Shanika had a very close friendship with Dr Yoheswaran’s daughter Dilani from their school days, lasting even up to date though Dilani is now domiciled in Boston, USA.

Dr Yoheswaran, who passed away in his nineties, who I met recently told me that at the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital, there were three surgical teams with Dr S.A.W. Goonewardane, Dr D. Bandaranaike

Dr Yoheswaran, now 92, who I met recently told me that at the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital, there were three surgical teams with Dr S.A.W. Goonewardane, Dr D. Ranasinghe and himself specially to cater to soldiers who had received injuries at war time and that not a single soldier had died during his surgical career. Dr Rienzie Pieris was the Hospital Chairman at the time.

On the fateful day , Lalith had been in the OPD on the ground floor and then been moved to the operating theatre. He had recognized Dr Yoheswaran instantly. He had been given a blood transfusion but the doctor had decided that immediate surgery was essential and Lalith had inquired if a local anaesthetic could be given to which he said ‘No’. Dr Suriyakanthi Amerasekera was the Anesthetist on duty that day.

The theatre had been crowded with lots of doctors. The surgery had lasted two or three hours as there had been multiple injuries. A colostomy operation was also done removing his spleen. A few days later I visited him in hospital and found him recovering but still weak. I offered him all the services of Parliament to help him have a speedy recovery . Everyone was relieved that after three weeks in the hospital, fully recovered, he was released to go home. Lalith returned to parliament and contributed to debates with great prowess.

A few months later in October 1987, Lalith had proceeded to the USA for a check up to the prestigious Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York. A team of three medical specialists had stated that despite the serious injuries he had received, he was now in robust physical condition. Dr Alan Weiss, Consultant in Surgery had tested him from head to toe and singled out for special mention the Consultant Surgeon who had attended on him, Dr K. Yoheswaran.

With the retirement of President Jayewardene and Prime Minister Ranasinghe Premadasa being elected President, there was disquiet within certain sections of the Government and Lalith was among those whose name came up as one not seeing eye to eye with the new Executive. About a year into his first term in office, in 1991, the country and Parliament were all agog with news of an impeachment motion against President Premadasa.

Amidst these developments, Lalith visited me in my room one day and in the midst of a friendly conversation I asked him, “Lalith, why are you rocking the boat?” Lalith promptly replied, “Why are you asking me? Why don’t you ask your Speaker?” hinting that the then Speaker. M. H. Mohamed was privy to the move to impeach the President.

An illustrious politician’s life was cut short when Lalith was shot by an unknown assassin while addressing a political rally in Kirulapone in April 1993. The name of Lalith Athulathmudali finds a firm place in the records of Sri Lanka’s Parliament.

K.B. Ratnayake

K.B.Ratnayake served parliament for over 19 years starting from 1962. He served as Chief Government Whip, Minister of Transport and Minister of Parliamentary Affairs and Sports. He also served as the Speaker of Parliament from 2

August 25, 1994 to October 2000.

I recall his entry to Parliament very well. Educated initially at Hartley College in Jaffna and playing cricket for that school, he was one of the very rare members who spoke fluently all three languages: Sinhala, Tamil and English. He had a warm personality and during his tenure as Parliamentary Affairs and Sports Minister, he worked very closely with us. It was during this time that a new Act of Parliament was introduced by him which provides all Members of Parliament who have served the Legislature for over five years, a lifelong pension.

This Act is still very much in force and all parliamentarians who have served the Legislature for five years are entitled to a pension. This piece of legislation I may add has come in for some valid criticism as the ordinary public servant is entitled to a pension only when he or she has served 10 years or more in a pensionabloe post.

With his warm personality, Mr.Ratnayake endeared himself to all of us serving in the Parliamentary Secretariat. He invited us to his gracious home in Anuradhapura. His daughter Malkanthi was a very distinguished member of the Public Service until her retirement.

I was also privileged to have joined him in the year of my retirement in 1994 when he led a Commonwealth Parliamentary Delegation to Banff in the Province of Ontario in Canada. His warm and friendly personality has left a lasting impression on those of us who had the privilege to work closely with him.

Stanley Tillakaratne

Mr. Tillakaratne served parliament for over 21 years staring from August 1960. He was Speaker of the House from 1970-1977. 1 had the privilege of associating with him from around the time he first entered parliament as the MP for Kotte and so much more during his long period as Speaker. During his time, he was known to be controversial and sometimes a fiery orator. By the time he assumed duties as Speaker; he had mellowed down and sought my advice and help when rulings had to be given as Speaker.

An incident I remember well involved a ruling that had to be given by him over a controversial matter even though I cannot recollect the exact matter. He insisted that I contact Prime Minister Mrs. Sirimavo

Bandaranaike to ask her what she felt about it before he gives his ruling. I told him this was a matter for those of us in Parliament to tackle but as he insisted, I telephoned the Prime Minister. As Mrs. Bandaranaike came to the phone, I prefaced my remarks saying,” Madam, I am ringing you on the Speaker’s instructions.” She snapped back,” Why are you calling me? This is entirely a matter for the Speaker and you.” And the call ended. So, I reported back to him and after much discussion between us, I drafted a ruling for him.

On a slightly personal level, he once told me to help his wife Chandra over a pension matter. When I spoke to Mrs. Tillakaratne, I found that some unknown person had been forging her signature and collecting the pension due to her. I promptly intervened in the matter and I was relieved when she thanked me for my efforts and said that she was receiving her pension.

During his tenure I was privileged to have been the secretary to a parliamentary delegation visiting North Korea where we met with the country’s elusive leader Kim IL Sung. Stanley invited me often to his ancestral house in Kotte where I used to meet his nephew Dr. Susantha Dharmatillake, a dentist and an old friend of mine.

Gamini Jayasuriya

Gamini Jayasuriya served parliament for over 19 years starting from March 1960, Over these years, he served as Minster of Education, Minister of Health, Minister of Agriculture Development and Research and Minister of Food and Co-operatives.

I came to know Gamini as a fellow Royalist and most of all as the representative of Homagama which was the constituency in which my father was born and cremated. I also had the privilege of knowing his wife Sita Hevawitarana and came to know his son Prasanna and wife quite closely. In Parliament, he was well versed on the subjects he spoke on; was always relevant and spoke with great sincerity.

He came to be known for his uprightness and impeccable honesty and integrity.

I will never forget his very kind gesture when he came to my room to speak with me on a personal matter. My doctor father left for me seven acres of coconut land in Katuwana which was in his constituency which I visited only when plucking was taking place. He called on me to apprise me that the Urban Development Authority had identified this land being owned by an absentee landlord and was intending to acquire this land to establish an industrial zone. He warned me about it even though he did not have to only because of our personal relationship.

A few months later, the land was acquired with a gazette notification announcing the takeover. I could not object to it but when compensation was duly paid to me, I told the UDA that the land of seven acres was grossly undervalued and that I should be paid a higher compensation. The UDA kindly increased the original valuation but it was nowhere near the current market price. However I had to be satisfied with that.

In the year 1987, Gamini took the unprecedented step of resigning from his ministerial portfolio, over disagreements with President J.R.Jayewardene over the Indo-Lanka Agreement of that year. He did not stop there. After a few days, he walked into my room and handed over to me his letter of resignation as MP for Homagama. I recall telling him that though he had resigned from his ministerial portfolio, there was absolutely no necessity for him to resign from his Parliamentary seat. My few words were of no avail though I told him Parliament and the country needed people of his stature, education and above all impeccable honesty and integrity. He thanked me and said he would not change his mind. It was a sad day when he said goodbye to Parliament.

A few years later, Gamini passed away and the country lost a principled politician. He is still remembered as a politician who possessed all these noble attributes.

(Excerpted from Memories of 33 year in Parliament by Nihal Seneviratne)

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