Day of the Citizen
All the shouting, hooting,
cheering, the tears and jeers and, the shooting and fisticuffs is over -
or, so we hope. All these past weeks it was the 'day of the politician'
as our aspiring leaders perspired their way across the land, on foot and
in trishaws for some and in SUVs for others, all campaigning for
election to seats in Parliament and for governmental power.
The media spotlight was firmly on them these past weeks while the
citizenry watched and listened, some in amusement, others in disgust,
yet more with keenly critical attention. After all, finally, there has
to be a decision made by every single and individual citizen, firstly
whether to vote at all, and, if so, in which party's and candidate's
favour should one's vote be cast.
These past weeks, it was largely the power of cash, of the physical
labours of supporters and of the social strength deriving from family,
caste, class, gender and ideological affinities. Tomorrow, Election Day
will see the wielding of just one 'power': the power of the voter's
choice as expressed on that single slip of paper, the Ballot. Tomorrow
is the Day of the Citizen. The term 'citizen' has been used, as never
before, in popular discourse here in these past months from the time of
the presidential election campaign that began last November.
For decades, Sri Lankans have wondered for how long the Bullet would
compete with the Ballot in decision-making over governance. Successive
governments have resorted to the iron fist to sideline or crush various
social movements that arose mobilised by perceived injustices - issues
of socio-economic class, of ethnicity, of environmental damage, of
livelihood and of basic rights violated. Entire classes of citizens,
ethnic communities and political organisations have lived and struggled
in fear of governmental repression through physical violence and
coercion legitimised by draconian laws enacted using parliamentary
majorities that, in turn, had been achieved with help from a similar use
of force in various ways.
White vans originally became a symbol of State terror in the 1980s,
at a time when modern automobiles were just beginning to be freely
imported and a certain type of van was mostly being imported second
hand, blandly painted white. The more recent State repression thrived on
that memory of a past fear albeit in an even cruder and more brutal
manner.
Even as 'democracy' survived much battering over several decades, it
barely did so in the face of much constitutional manipulation, coercion
of the judiciary, the debasement of religious institutions by sheer
mediocrity of ecclesiastical leaderships, the decadent dealings of
thieving entrepreneurs and, the betrayal of duties and ethic within
various professions. In short, if it was not the Bullet, then it was the
guillotine of institutional power wrongly used.
But the use of the Bullet soon went far beyond institutions. Sections
of the citizenry itself took up armed struggle in response to State
repression. Soon bullets were flying from all sides. People barely knew
who was firing at whom. Attempts to create alternative 'states'
foundered in their own morass of wilful violence, authoritarianism and
brutality. 'Counter' terror by self-appointed 'sole representatives'
begat counter-terror by the State. Autocracy and nepotism became virtues
in the eyes of those hypnotised by ultra-nationalism and ethnic
supremacism. And autocracy and nepotism took this resplendent isle
further into the abyss.
It was in a huge reaction to all this that, finally, large sections
of citizens bestirred themselves from fear, apathy and the hesitation of
the dis-empowered, to organise voluntarily around a range of issues that
then focussed on a single, giant effort to rescue the system, our
civilisation. This is what led the election of January 8 to be called a
'revolution'. In the forefront of this revolution were not politicians
but numerous citizens' movements, large and small, North and South.
The several initiatives at systemic repair have also revived the
country's bureaucracy, giving them a new-found self-esteem. The
administration of the police, of the economy and the electoral system
all seem to be blossoming in their new-found integrity - perhaps the
most prominent being the work of the Department of Elections.
Today, after several months into this attempt to redeem our
democracy, citizens remain in the forefront, encouraged, no doubt by the
proven independence of the judiciary, police and bureaucracy. Voting
tomorrow will be done by Sri Lankans with pride as they help usher in a
genuine democracy that will be celebrated not in some xenophobic
isolation, but with support and applause of a watching world community.
Uditha Liyanage
As director and chairman of Sri Lanka's premier institute for
management studies, the Postgraduate Institute of Management (PIM) of
the University of Sri Jayawardhenepura, Professor Uditha Liyanage, who
passed away last week, was best known as the head of the team that made
PIM one of the first, and few, state-run academic institutions that
became commercially viable and self-sustaining.
As head of the institution that has produced thousands of much needed
business management personnel for Sri Lanka, Professor Liyanage is not
merely revered by generations of students, but was probably the most
pivotal academic and educationist in Sri Lanka's now growing business
community. Known as Sri Lanka's 'marketing guru', his contribution in
refining management and business studies and building institutions
servicing the business world has meant that Professor Liyanage was a
personality who lived through the blossoming of the country's private
sector as the 'engine of growth' for national development.
Internationally and nationally honoured for his achievements,
Professor Liyanage's passing leaves a vacuum in business education in
Sri Lanka that will not be easily filled, especially today, when he is
needed most as the country recovers from a chaotic era of wilful war,
mis-management and plunder.
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