Let’s re-visit 1978 for there’s a lesson to be learnt there

(by Malinda Seneviratne)

I was in the eighth grade when the 1978 Constitution was ratified in parliament with a forest of hands amidst a few ‘nays’ that were quite inaudible given the number break down between UNP and non-UNP.  I vaguely remember reading a Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP) pamphlet on the constitution.  Apart from this and occasional reference and comment at home by my father and/or his friends, all negative of course, it was a political moment that came and went without much notice. 

I do remember learning about the 1978 constitution for ‘Social Studies’ that year.  I remember writing about the Executive Presidency for an assignment given by the teacher, Mrs. Padma Ratnayake.  I distinctly remember (and she does too – we talk about it sometimes when we run into each other) beginning my essay thus: ‘jay aar jayavardhana shree lankaave chandayen path vunu palamu vidaayaka janaadhipathi lu’ (J.R. Jayewardena is the first elected executive president of Sri Lanka, so we are told). 

Mrs. Ratnayake’s contention was the JR was elected unlike, for example, William Gopallawa.  My position was that he was elected to Parliament.  The fact that the elected parliament thereafter elected him to the post of President doesn’t mean he was directly elected by the people.  The majority of voters in a particular electorate wanted JR to represent them in parliament, that’s all.  Not a single voter said (through the vote) ‘I want him as executive president’.  I can’t remember how many marks she gave me out of 10.  I am pretty sure it got erased quickly by interval-cricket.

I remember also 1982 and the Lamp vs. Pot referendum. The people we asked to decide if the life of the parliament of the day should or should not be extended by a further 6 years.  At the time, the UNP had a five-sixths majority in parliament.  With a mere 50% plus 1 vote in favour of such extension, the UNP would enjoy 6 more years in power.  As the next ‘regular’ election under the new rules (proportional representation) showed, had the UNP opted for parliamentary elections, it would not only have lost it’s five-sixths majority, it would not even have secured the two-thirds it would have needed to push through that ridiculous and separatism-feeding instrument called the 13th Amendment or the other partisan amendments that were passed between 1982 and 1988. 

The 1978 Constitution was voted on barely a year after the SLFP-led United Front Government was defeated in a landslide; too soon for people to wonder whether they had indeed chosen wisely.  By 1992, things were different. The trade unions had been crushed.  JR was showing his true thuggish colours.  The UNP was a year this side of unleashing organized violence on Tamil people (it was, as I have pointed out frequently, as much a GREEN July as a Black July).  Still, the signs were quite evident. The referendum was won. Barely.  There was too much violence and rampant acts of election malpractice to call the result ‘fair’. 

Since then there have been many elections, some more fair than others, some more violent than others.  By and large one could say that the winners would have won anyway, but that’s hardly a consolation.  Through it all, there’s been one overbearing constitutional feature: the executive president, garu, all-powerful.  Since JR’s so-we-are-told ‘election’ in 1978, we’ve had Ranasinghe Premadasa, D.B. Wijetunga, Chandrika Kumaratunga and Mahinda Rajapaksa.  All-powerful. Garu.  Sorry, ATHI GARU.   Since we have had UNPers (JRJ and Premadasa), SLFPer (Chandrika and Mahinda) and a neither-here-nor-there (DB), SLFP supporters can reflect on UNP Presidents and UNP supporters can reflect on SLFP presidents.  Those who support neither party have 32 years of being ruled by people they did not vote for to think about.

How does it feel to live in a country where you are governed by someone you didn’t vote for?  Some might say that this is a fate that some have to suffer in a democracy.  In the USA, for example, there are periods when that country has a president that more than 80% did not vote for. On the other hand, these same people can be happy that there lived through times when the person of their choice was president.  This alone means they can hope that the ‘bad times’ (in their book at least) will pass.  There’s a catch, though.

The 1978 Constitution was designed to increase significantly the chances of the UNP at each and every election.  Had Premadasa survived the suicide bomb attack on May 1, 1993, it is quite possible that he would have gone on to win a second term.  It is also possible that another UNPer would have succeeded him thereafter, just like Rajapaksa succeeded Kumaratunga after she completed her second term.  Conjecture?  Yes.  To the extent that prediction is possible (barring the unforeseen, for example assassination of Premadasa), however, I don’t think this is an unreasonable projection. 

Thirty two years is long enough for anyone to understand the dangers of anyone or any party/coalition having too much power.  JRJ used his five-sixths to enact a patently anti-democratic constitution we’ve not been able to correct in any meaningful way. He is not to be blamed for having obtained such power, this is true. Still, there is a way in which a man is called statesman and not petty politician in the matter of what he does with the power he has and most importantly what does not do with it.  JRJ was a politician. Third rate. 

It’s all democratic.  All legal. All those who benefited can say ‘nothing illegal about it’.  That’s the down-side of democracy. You can reach dictatorship and tyranny democratically, an eventuality that requires by way of precondition an utterly ignorant or apathetic citizenry.  In 1977, the people failed to read JRJ. They voted Sirimavo and SLFP out.  They didn’t expect JRJ to do what JRJ did do.  On the other hand, JRJ needed some people to raise their hands to do what he did do.  Those who said ‘aye’ in parliament may or may not have known the consequences of their decision.  That’s immaterial.  Millions of people were impacted by that decision and continue to be affected. For the most part, negatively.  That was Sri Lanka slipping to tyranny by way of democracy.

Those who said ‘aye’ in 1978 and those who didn’t mind that particular exercise in constitutional reform because it was all about THEIR guys (those who are still around that is) must know now how dangerous it is not to object simply on account of party preference.  Those who are old enough to know about this history, regardless of party preference, should be wise enough to learn the lessons and do everything possible to prevent repetition.

We are talking about the proposed 18th Amendment here.  There’s only one thing to remember.  Don’t think of the immediate beneficiary, his/her party, his/her track-record etc. Remember that things can change. Things can boomerang on you.  The unforeseen can come about (ref the assassination of Premadasa, the ahinsakakama of ‘Innocent’  President DB etc) and the equation can flip and with that flipping put ‘the other guy’ in place of ‘our guy’.  It is far better to assess the worth of any particular amendment by imagining that the benefits accrue to the politician you dislike most. 

Constitutional amendment is not about personalities but systems.  It is not about Mahinda Rajapaksa but the office he holds, which, as we all know can outlast him.  JRJ died.  Few if any UNPers voting for JR and the UNP in 1977 or voting for the lamp in the 1982 referendum would have envisaged a Sri Lanka of the kind that we’ve had between 1994 and 2005.  No Chandrika-loyalist would have imagined that Chandrika’s SLFP would have become Mahinda’s SLFP overnight.  It is not about personalities. It is about systems and what they can and cannot do for this or that person.

Forget names and faces.  Let’s concentrate on the wording. Let’s imagine the unimaginable in terms of the who and who else could be in the places we would like our friends to occupy. 

When you think of the 18th Amendment, think of 1978.  If you are an MP, then think of what the UNP MPs in Parliament in 1978 might have thought and more important, what they would never have imagined.