While Pakistan and Bangladesh wrestle with their fragile relationship under the interim government led by Yunus, the International Tribunal is set to deliver its verdict on Monday, 17 November, formally exposing the alleged “sins” of Sheikh Hasina’s rule. Hasina may face the harshest consequences imaginable, and her potential extradition from India threatens to inflame political passions for years, while social tensions are likely to spiral, carrying dangerous regional implications. Yet, amid this chaos, the most alarming development is the meteoric rise of Field Marshal Asim Munir, Pakistan’s second-ever field marshal, who now operates above the law, consolidating power with an audacity that recalls the darkest chapters of Pakistan’s military past. The country appears to be repeating the cycles of power seen under the late Field Marshal Ayub Khan, with the civilian leadership increasingly marginalised as the military consolidates authority. Munir’s ascent is more than symbolic; it is an institutional shift, codified through the 27th Constitutional Amendment, that enshrines military supremacy into Pakistan’s legal architecture while weakening judicial oversight and eroding democratic norms.

Pakistan’s trajectory under Munir bears echoes of historical precedent. As Ayub Khan recounted in his autobiography, military intervention was repeatedly justified as a stabilising force in times of perceived political chaos. Yet, as history demonstrates, Pakistan’s oscillation between military dictatorship and fragile civilian governance has rarely delivered sustainable reform or economic development. The CIA’s declassified analysis of Pakistan in the 1970s warned that “the military, while professionally competent, is inherently prone to internalising ideological and political objectives beyond its remit,” prescient words that resonate alarmingly today under Munir. Whereas past army chiefs, even Musharraf, attempted to balance professional military traditions with political ambition, Munir is pursuing an explicitly ideological agenda, transforming the Pakistani armed forces into a force fighting for Islam as much as the nation.

This shift is no longer subtle. The Pakistani defence establishment under Munir has institutionalised terms like Fitna Al Khawarij and Fitna al Hindustan, branding insurgents in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan as heretical or Indian proxies. In Munir’s own words, the military must confront these “internal threats” with a religious lens, positioning Pakistan as the protector of the Muslim Ummah while simultaneously framing domestic conflicts as extensions of historic Islamic struggles. By co-opting centuries-old concepts from early Islamic history, Munir projects an image of Pakistan as a state under siege from both heretical internal actors and a hostile external India. While the rhetorical appeal resonates with sections of the Pakistani populace, it dangerously blurs the line between counter-insurgency and ideological warfare.

The implications of Munir’s rise extend far beyond domestic politics. Pakistan’s foreign policy, historically fixated on India, is increasingly intertwined with efforts to construct regional alliances that challenge New Delhi’s influence. Reports suggest that Islamabad is exploring deeper cooperation with Dhaka under the interim government, ostensibly to counterbalance Indian ambitions. The Financial Times noted that Munir, along with Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, has been actively courting powers such as China, Saudi Arabia, and even the United States, while simultaneously framing Pakistan’s mineral wealth and strategic ports like Pasni as sites for foreign investment. Yet, beneath this geopolitical manoeuvring lies a darker reality: the potential proliferation of Islamist extremist organisations nurtured under the guise of strategic alignment. Pakistan’s track record demonstrates the inherent danger of weaponising ideology for political leverage, a pattern that has repeatedly generated instability both internally and across the region.

The Pakistani military’s Islamisation under Munir recalls the ambitions of General Zia-ul-Haq, whose coup in 1977 dismantled democratic institutions and laid the foundations for a deeply Islamist state. Analysts such as Makhdoom Ali Khan have remarked, “What General Ziaul Haq may have dreamt of, and what General Pervez Musharraf could not achieve, will soon be an accomplished fact.” Munir, a Hafiz-e-Quran, has emphasised the religious legitimacy of military campaigns, framing them as moral and ideological imperatives. The creation of a constitutional backdoor through the 27th Amendment formalises his authority, grants him lifetime protection and the Field Marshal rank, and establishes the Chief of Defence Forces as the paramount military authority, effectively sidelining civilian oversight.

The judiciary, meanwhile, is being systematically curtailed. The Federal Constitutional Court (FCC) assumes constitutional primacy over the Supreme Court, while the Supreme Court is relegated to civil and criminal appellate functions. Senior counsel has observed that the SC is now left “with a limited jurisdiction of deciding ordinary civil, criminal and statutory appeals,” effectively reducing it to a “Supreme District Court.” Tariq Mehmood Khokhar warned that the FCC is “empowered by disempowering the Supreme Court,” consolidating both military and executive control over constitutional interpretation. Dawn reported that these reforms have been lauded by supporters as a forward-looking model, yet for sceptics, they represent an erosion of checks and balances that has long been the only bulwark against authoritarian overreach.

Meanwhile, Pakistan’s economy remains precarious. According to the Financial Times, despite claims of investment inflows and resource wealth, the country continues to struggle with a poverty rate above 25 per cent, low capital formation, and a foreign investor climate undermined by historical instability. The military’s deepening involvement in business, combined with ideological militarisation, may further deter meaningful economic reform. Muhammad Aurangzeb, Pakistan’s finance minister, has acknowledged the “existential issue” of growth that barely matches population increase, raising questions about the sustainability of Munir’s ambitious geopolitical and domestic projects.

The potential consequences for the region are profound. Islamabad’s portrayal of an Indian-backed insurgency in its western provinces, along with efforts to foster a Bangladesh-Pakistan axis, risks triggering unprecedented crises in South Asia. Munir’s rhetorical framing of conflicts as a defence of Islam may embolden extremist organisations, both domestic and transnational, increasing the likelihood of cross-border terrorism. The May 2025 four-day conflict between India and Pakistan, during which Munir publicly credited the ceasefire to Donald Trump and even nominated him for a Nobel Peace Prize, highlights the unpredictable consequences of a military-led foreign policy driven by ideology rather than strategic calculation. As reports suggest, Munir’s elevation to Field Marshal and Chief of Defence Forces cements his unassailable position, giving him autonomy over the military and, by extension, significant influence over Pakistan’s foreign relations.

Critically, Pakistan is not an exception in the history of militarisation. From Ayub Khan to Musharraf, every military takeover has promised stability, reform, or modernisation, yet invariably delivered repression, economic mismanagement, and heightened regional tension. Historical lessons prove that militarisation of state institutions often generates the opposite of the intended outcomes: weakened governance, erosion of civil society, and proliferation of extremism. The current trajectory under Munir suggests a repeat of these patterns, now intensified by the infusion of ideological rigour and constitutional legitimacy.

However, one cannot disregard that India’s hegemonic ambitions, regional arrogance, and strategic failures further complicate the equation. New Delhi’s insistence on projecting influence over Bangladesh and Nepal, combined with its self-assured posturing vis-à-vis Pakistan, contributes to an environment where Islamabad is incentivised to consolidate internal authority and project power externally. Yet history demonstrates that attempting to create strategic depth through ideological militarisation or cross-border alliances often backfires. As T.S. Eliot’s words might suggest, this transformation is not occurring “with a bang but with a whimper,” yet the consequences are likely to reverberate loudly across the subcontinent for decades.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa ✍️

The exam format to enter Royal changed with an exception to the rule in 1959 to favour the powerful. SWRD Bandaranaike, the Prime Minister was assassinated in September 1959. It was stated that Anura, his son, was too stressed to sit the Entrance Examination two months later. The test was still held, and they took in carte- blanche all 140 from RPS. Thirty five were taken from outside RPS tosatisfy the 80:20 ratio. Thus there were five forms of 35 each in 1960 as compared to the norm of four forms.

The 1960 Royal intake included the future Prime Minister Mr Ranil Wickremesinghe and the now President in 2024. Also in the list was future Minister Dinesh Gunawardena and now the Prime Minister. On the floor of the Parliament both of them questioned the then MP Anura Bandaranaike in gaining ‘back door entrance ” to Royal College without sitting the competitive entrance examination. Anura passed away in late 2000s. A clear case of preferential treatment for the influential and powerful. Some people are more equal than others.

Later on, I was to get to know that the teachers at RPS and STC trained their students with “sample papers” on the Royal Entrance Test. We had no such luck at Thurstan.

Monday 7 January 1957 was an important day for 140 of us who assembled at the West Wing Lobby of Royal College at 9 am. Mr C.P. de A Abeysinghe, who introduced himself as the Lower School headmaster, called us to attention. We were later to find out that he was better known as “Cowpox”. He called up names according to alphabetical order and at the shout of “Kodituwakku” two of us stepped forward.

One was rotund and chubby with a suitcase in one hand. The other was the opposite, and very skinny. That was me. “What are your initials?” queried the Lower School Principal. We both looked non-plussed, until he thundered; “What Kodituwakku are you? Who is H N and who is E N?’ Hewamallika Nanda beat me to it and stepped out. “You go to 1-A and you E N go to 1-D” was the direction. The better fed and fat cat got the class 1-A. My education in English was ever continuing. New word added: “Initials”.

I thought that HN by having his wits about had stolen a march over me by being allocated with the better students, taking Thurstan as an example in Class classification. But I was mistaken.

Mr Lionel Samararatne was the Master of 1-D and his first instruction was to write an essay on “How to fly a kite”. I was basically clueless, although I had flown many a kite. I submitted a very poor essay and got an “E” grade. I just could not thread together the actions and pull them together. This was perhaps a prophetic introduction to my career at Royal: I have had many instances in life, where detractors, have told me to “Go fly a kite”.

There were four classes of 35 each of mixed ethnicity. Thus, English became the lingua franca. Mathematics, consisting of Arithmetic, Geometry and Algebra, were done in English and the only subjects conducted in Sinhalese was Sinhala Language and Buddhism. The first two reports of mine were not promising at all, 20th followed by 28th in class. Competition was intense. A tough road lay ahead.

I was to find out at end of the first year a feature that made Royalists jell. At end of the year examinations, the first in class in Form 1-D went to 2-A, second to 2-B, third to 2-C, fourth to 2-D and fifth to 2-A, and the cycle was repeated for every class and for each year in Lower School up to GCE (Ord Level). Thus, due to this marvelous system, we intermingled and by the fifth year in College we knew a majority of our classmates.

An intricate system of permutations and combinations, but a lot of work for the Masters. Now a piece of cake with the advent of software and personal computers.

At the fifth form which was GCE (OL) class, the students were divided into three streams, Engineering, Biology (Medicine) and Arts. It was a students’ choice as to which stream was preferred. More often than not, parents influenced the choice. “Son, we want a doctor in the house” was a common plea by the mother. Thus many students made the wrong career choice at an age of 15+ to please their parents.

One such classmate who was good in Classics and Literature which were Arts subjects was compelled to get into the Medicine stream and spent about three years struggling through his GCE (OL) examinations. On leaving school, and after three unsuccessful attempts at gaining entry to Medical College, he finally ended up as a lawyer – a career complementing his abilities after a ‘miserable academic career” at school. He became a very successful lawyer .

The Upper School comprised the GCE (OL) and the two years leading to University Entrance (UE), the Lower Sixth and the Upper Sixth. Engineering and Medicine streams were conducted in English only. Arts stream was predominantly in English.

The switch to medium of instructions being the mother tongue – Sinhala or Tamil – began for GCE (OL) in 1965 and for UE in 1967. For our cohort, all subjects in the Upper school were in English. Royal College was set up by the British in 1835 and started out as the Colombo Academy. It was based on the model of Eton College, a leading boy’s boarding school in England.

In the Sinhalese Literature class taken by the Vice Principal, Mr. Bogoda Premaratne, students were studying a Jataka story where the all-powerful god Sakra came down to earth disguised as a beggar to observe some injustice being done to the Bodhisatva. Mr Premaratne asked a dozing classmate, “How did the Sakra come?” meaning in what disguise he had come.

Not being aware of what was going on, the napping classmate was prompted by his friend to say “By bus, Sir” which he dutifully did, earning him the nickname, ‘Sakkaraya! This is a humorous episode of childhood pranks, and is an excerpt from an address in Melbourne in 2010, by my classmate at Thurstan and Royal, Lal Goonewardene.

Mr Bogoda Premaratne came to Royal as Vice Principal in early 1960s and became the Principal in 1966. His two immediate predecessors, Messrs. J C A Corea and Dudley de Silva being “Old Royalists”, with the former being the first Ceylonese to be appointed to that position in 1948. The Royal College Union (RCU) came to the fore in their ill-advised resolution to oppose Mr Premaratne’s appointment, as the Principal in 1966. The sole reason being that the well qualified Mr Premaratne was not an “Old Royalist”.

Thankfully the Education Minister IMRA Iriyagolla and the Deputy Prime Minister of the day and an Old Royalist himself, J R Jayewardene, asked the RCU “to go fly a kite”. Mr Premaratne was an excellent teacher and was also to prove his administrative skills in heading the school and becoming the Director General of Education.

We were blessed to have a set of excellent teachers some of whom were academically brilliant at the University, obtaining First or Second Classes and yet choosing teaching as their vocation. Others were trained teachers. Career guidance was solely lacking for the students. It was a case of “University or nothing” unless the parents were able to direct their offspring. Some very wise students, and in the minority did not sit the examinations for University Entrance even once, and opted out to do articles in Accountancy and/or join a bank or the mercantile sector as a junior executive. Fluency in English being an asset to join the workforce. Many who failed to get into the University ventured into accountancy, law or banking to flourish well in life in future.

Royal Primary School (RPS), was the main arterial flow to Royal College as explained earlier. RPS had an excellent framework and an organized structure set up for extracurricular activities, be it sports, scouting or in literary pursuits as “book clubs” etc. There were House competitions leading to class and team photographs which have now become a golden archive for memorabilia for the former RPS students.

Former RPS students excelled in team sports at RC with some of them displaying their skills and performances especially at the Royal-Thomian and Bradby Shield to be savoured through history. In sports the star classmates of mine who performed when it mattered and in the spotlight of public gaze were Vijaya Malalasekera and Lakdasa Dissanayaka, both performing unforgettable and still spoken feats at the Royal Thomian in 1963 and at the Bradby in 1964 respectively. There was also Jhana Wickremesinghe who won the blue riband 440 yards at the Public Schools Athletics meet in 1965. The best allrounder in terms of the combination of sports, extra-curricular activities and academic criteria being, Lal Goonewardene.

I wish to present the following statistics while being the first to admit that academic performance in school is not an accurate guide of an individual’s passage through life. It is however a barometer. The pinnacle of school education was to vie against everybody in your age group in the country and win a place in the University of Ceylon (UOC), the only institution of higher learning in Ceylon up to the late 60s. In fact the best performer in terms of being a visionary businessman was Gamini (Gabo) Pieris whose highest academic achievement was scraping through GCE (OL) after three attempts.

Of the 28 students who came from outside the Royal Primary (RPS) to the ’57 batch, 17 entered UOC, or as a percentage, 60%. Of the 112 who came from RPS, 27 entered UOC, making it 25%. The analysis is a confirmation of the vision of Kannangara in making education accessible to all, and not only to the privileged. Of the 14 who came from Thurstan’s Sinhala and Tamil streams seven or 50% entered UOC. However, among the top six academic achievers of the’57 Group honours were evenly shared between RPS and outsiders. All six were wired in humility. The two top seeds in this respect Ranjit Galappatti and Darin Gunasekera justified their school rankings and kept true to form by getting first- class honours at the University and ending up with their PhDs.

In sports, cadeting, scouting, literary associations, choir and debating at RC, the RPS products were the runaway winners. As an extension of the vision of Kannangara, Royal and Ananda after an island wide search gave 10 scholarships each based on GCE (OL) results. The pioneering batch entered in June 1961, based on the GCE (OL) results of December 1960. Eight went into Engineering stream and two to the Medicine stream in the first year of University Entrance.

From the above ten, two left within a week back to their respective schools of De Mazenod in Kandana and Ratmalana Hindu College citing poor teaching at Royal. These scholarship holders could not believe that in their new school, a master taking an allocated subject sleeping through the two final periods from 2.20 pm in the afternoon onward till the closing time of 3.40 pm. The master however took the precaution to allocate some problems from the text book before his siesta. It was the final bell at 3.40 pm that normally aroused him from the slumber.

The eight who remained at Royal entered the University. The two that left too joined them at the University. Thus whether Royal improved their academic performance is highly debatable. Nevertheless, in other activities beyond the classroom, Royal offered far greater opportunities than either De Mazenod or Hindu College. In fact per student Royal had the highest per capita expenditure in the country of any school. A disproportionately higher investment compared to counterparts in metropolitan, rural and suburban schools.

“Based on muti-faceted factors as entrepreneurship , services to the poor and aiding the community and in my opinion, of the ten top achievers since leaving school only four attended the University.

When the Vice Chancellor of Cambridge University was queried on; “What is the advantage of a degree?” he paused, and said with a deadpan expression: “It takes others longer to find out that one is an idiot”.

I wrote an article to the College Magazine Committee and presented it to the Principal in late 1963 on how external entries from outside RPS enhanced the Royal College performance based on University Entrance examination held in 1962 and the resulting University intake of 1963. The Principal, however told me to “go fly a kite” in rejecting my contribution. I should have learnt that even the Principal of Royal College is averse to any suggestion that is perceived as criticism, either directly or indirectly of the institution he was heading.

By Nihal Kodituwakku ✍️

CBK narrowly wins hard fought poll and Gamini D defeats RW by one vote to become opposition leader

Soon after the results of the 1994 election were announced by the Commissioner of Elections there was a flurry of activity from the UNP camp because though it had lost the plurality of votes cast, the number of MPs in each camp was about even. Gamini thought he had a chance of getting Ashraff’s support for the UNP and sent a helicopter to fetch him from Amparai. Ashraff landed in Colombo and went straight to meet CBK and offer his support. Wijetunga’s anti-minority chickens were coming home to roost.

Wijetunga was happy about my success (at the election). He was thinking of his future now that the SLFP/PA would form a government. He asked me to negotiate with the PA for him to remain as the titular President and for CBK to be the interim Prime Minister as she had given a pledge to abolish the Executive Presidency. At that point of time the SLFP was all for abolishing the executive Presidency. I telephoned GL Peiris who was the newly appointed Minister of Justice about this proposal and he requested me to meet him in his office in Hulftsdorp.

After listening to me he said that he had asked CBK about it and that it was premature to decide on Wijetunga’s request. I did not know then that she had no intention of abolishing the Executive Presidency now that she had ascended the “Gadi”. It was rumoured that she had consulted JRJ who had advised her that with her Parliamentary majority of one it would be suicidal to let go of the Presidency which she could soon contest as Wijetunga’s term was coming to an end. According to my information JRJ had told CBK that “She would last only five months as PM but would remain for five years if she was the executive President”.

CBK apparently thought that it was good advice. There was much hostility in the faction ridden SLFP to her assuming the premiership and there was open lobbying to appoint Mrs. B as the new PM. She was requested to serve as a minister in her mother’s Cabinet. This has been confirmed in CBKs recently published biography. Wijetunga however graciously recognized CBK, made her comfortable in the new environment by serving “Kevum and Kiribath” and thereby earned the respect of the young new leader of the country. CBK was appointed PM by him and she then set her eyes on the Presidency albeit with the pledge that she would later ensure the abolition of JRJ’s “Bahubootha” creation as she colourfully described it.

It was time for the UNP to look inwards. The party which intended to “roll up the electoral map” had to face up to its electoral defeat. Wijetunga called up about fifteen seniors and asked me to brief them about GL’s response to his suggestion of becoming the titular President. I think there was some consternation about how I, a rank junior, had been selected to negotiate with the new leaders.

But they took the verdict with good grace and asked Wijetunga to reorganize the party in the face of the impending Presidential election.

All the recently elected MPs of the party were assembled in the Presidential chamber and a secret ballot was held to decide on the new leader of the Opposition. It was also “ipso facto” an election of the new UNP leader to take over once Wijetunga retired in a few months time. It was a bitterly contested election between Ranil, who up to now had as PM held the reins of succession and his challenger Gamini who had been a popular leader of the party before he was sacked by Premadasa. It was a cliff hanger of an election and Gamini won by one vote.

It was a bad defeat for Ranil who took it with ill grace and withdrew from party activities to spend time with his cronies in the outstations. He had a long memory when it came to such setbacks and Gamin’s supporters were earmarked for retribution when he came back to the leadership. Gamini took over the position of the Leader of the Opposition and taking a leaf from JRJ’s book began to reorganize the party. Perhaps in order to embarrass the UNP, and burnish its own credentials, the new Government decided to bring in laws regarding bribery and corruption as its first piece of legislation in the new Parliament. Gamini as the new UNP leader had arranged for human rights lawyer Desmond Fernando to brief our Parliamentary group regarding the proposed bill. Fernando launched a scathing attack on the proposed legislation on technical grounds.

I spoke up and said that we should support the bill anyway because the public wanted an end to corruption. Ranil strongly supported my submissions and when we left the room he came over and thanked me for my intervention. Eventually the group decided to support the bill and my maiden speech in the House was a call to end this cancer in our body politic. While being proud of my first speech I am also aware that nothing has changed and, if anything, unbridled corruption has become endemic to all regimes and leading political parties.

A new experience

The general election was held on August 16, 1994. 1 was declared elected to Parliament from Kandy district on August 17 and was sworn in as a MP on the 25th and allocated a seat in the opposition benches. Chandrika took her oaths of office as Prime Minister, coming late even on her first day in Parliament. Gamini Dissanayake was recognized as the Leader of the Opposition. The government had a wafer thin majority in the house though it had scored a much larger number of aggregate votes countrywide.

Though I had been to the Parliament often as a public servant and occupied the officials box to observe the proceedings there, I entered the chamber as a MP for the first time with a sense of awe as well as of achievement. Not many civil servants had succeeded in winning an election and entering the chamber. I could recall only C.P. de Silva, Ronnie de Mel and Nissanka Wijeratne who were my seniors in the CCS. They were good examples of efficient MPs and I was determined to follow their example. Also there were some of my university colleagues like Dharmasiri Senanayake and Neelan Tiruchelvam who were well regarded by both government and opposition. It would be fair to say that I had better recognition in the House than many other MPs, particularly among those who were newly elected and were occupying the backbenches.

Dress code

Parliament has a dress code. In the early days MPs wore western clothes, except in cases like Bandaranaike and Suntheralingam who wore variants of the “national dress”. [Cloth and long sleeved banian] I decided not follow either of those sartorial fashions but to wear long trousers with a tunic, which my friend Sarath Muttetuwegama characterized as a “Kapati Coat”. It was the least uncomfortable and flashy dress and was being adopted by many of the new entrants while leftist leaders like NM, Colvin and Bernard were always dressed in full western attire.

There were a sprinkling of mostly rural MPs who followed Bandaranaike’s style of cloth and banian with a coloured muffler or “satakaya” loosely wrapped around the neck. After the rise of the Rajapaksas, this attire and a maroon “satakaya” became “de rigeur”. However these “nationalists” were not averse to, on occasion, wearing ill cut western clothes especially for embassy parties where alcoholic drinks were freely served.

Role of Parliament

As a democracy Sri Lanka’s constitution adheres to Montesquieu’s notion of the separation of powers among the Legislature, Executive and Judicary. The legislature was made up of freely elected representatives who are “the voice of the people”. In our constitution the chief executive, the President, is also elected by the direct vote of the people. However his\her Cabinet is drawn from the legislature where he\she must command a majority in order to pass the laws that need the approval of the House. The judiciary interprets laws that have been passed by Parliament and ensures that the civic rights of citizens, as guaranteed by the constitution, are upheld.

Though this is the ideal, in reality the inter se (between themselves) position and powers of these three arms of the state are determined by a variety of factors. The first among them is the dominant philosophy prevailing at the time. For instance in the first republican constitution, the drafting of which is attributed to a Marxist, Dr. Colvin R de Silva, the legislature plays a major role since in the view of Colvin and his government, it best reflects the views of the people. Thus there is no post legislative review of the laws that are passed by the Sri Lankan Parliament. The judiciary can be addressed before a draft bill is debated and decided on by the Parliament. But once the proposed law is considered legitimate on the basis of a determination by the Judiciary and is passed by Parliament no further appeal is possible. Similarly under the Colvin dispensation appointments, transfers and disciplinary action regarding the public service were left in the hands of the Cabinet and not independent Commissions with quasi-judicial powers.

In the second republican constitution attributed to JRJ the executive in the form of the President is vested with powers which were formerly entrusted to a Cabinet of Ministers drawn from the legislature. The Prime Minister, under the JRJ constitution, has no special powers over the Ministers and is only “a peon of the President” as PM Premadasa once famously said. The glue that binds the JRJ constitution is the political party. Members of Parliament are selected on the basis of a party vote in the electoral district [not electorate]. It is only after the seats for a party are allocated by the Elections Commissioner on the basis of votes polled by a particular party that the individual “preferences” polled by each candidate is counted. The highest preference-getters get selected on the basis of seats allocated to the party depending on the aggregate votes polled by it in the district. Under this constitution it was envisaged that there would be no cross overs and by-elections. If a MP crosses over the party can ensure that he is disqualified and another party nominee take his place.

Finance

The main function of Parliament is control of finance. No expenditure of public finance is permitted without Parliamentary approval. Such approval is sought by the executive-President, Cabinet and Finance administration, through the national budget and where necessary, supplementary estimates. We need not go into details here such as drawings from the Contingency Fund and procedures for obtaining covering sanctions, to emphasize that while temporary accommodations by the Executive may be possible, the function of overview of finance is the “raison d’etre” of Parliament which was won after many battles signified by the catch phrase “No taxation without representation”.

The annual budget is the main instrument of the control of finance by the legislature. In this revenue and expenditure statement the executive informs the legislature of its proposals for the collection of revenue and the manner in which that income would be disposed of in the coming year. This has been defined as “a forecast by a government of its expenditures and revenues for a specific period of time. In national finance the period covered by a budget is usually a year, known as a financial or fiscal year, which may or may not correspond with the calendar year.

In Sri Lanka towards the end of the year the Finance Minister presents the details of the budget [budget estimates] to the house which is considered as the first reading. Then after a stipulated time the outlines of the proposals are debated over a few days in the second reading. This is followed by a crucial vote on the second reading which gives the verdict of the House on the budgetary proposals. This vote must be won if the budget is to move forward. On the gaining of a favourable vote in the second reading the budget enters the “Committee stage”when the House turns into “a Committee of the whole House” where the details of the proposals are discussed, Ministry by Ministry.

Here the discussion is less formal where amendments, if necessary, can be proposed and the Minister is free to intervene and provide an explanation for the matters raised by Members of the House in their speeches. In rare cases the government may even agree to some of the members suggestions and amend the financial aggregates accordingly. After the debate on each Ministry, a vote is taken in respect of the estimates discussed and the House moves on to discuss, in Committee, the proposals of the next Ministry in line with the published budget statement. At the end of the Committee stage the House then resumes its normal status, debates and votes on the amended budget at its third and final reading. When the third reading vote is passed the budget procedures in the house is ended and the Speaker affixes his assent to the Bill.

From this it will become clear that in the Sri Lankan constitution with an Executive Presidency, the Minister of Finance plays a crucial role – perhaps more important than the Prime Minister who has only a ceremonial role. For this reason most Presidents have chosen to be Finance Ministers as well. Thus CBK, Mahinda and Ranil have held on to this post while Premadasa appointed Wijetunga nominally to this post while he pulled the strings from behind. The full time Finance Ministers in our time were Ronnie de Mel, Choksy, myself, and Mangala Samaraweera – as good a list as any in our Parliament which is not known to boast of many professionals. I had the opportunity to present three budgets to the house and that is a record of which any politician could be proud. I am especially proud of a hand written letter sent to me by Ronnie de Mel welcoming my appointment as Minister of Finance and referring to our common CCS antecedents.

(Excerpted from vol. 3 of the Sarath Amunugama autbiography) ✍️