The khaki-clad, tightly-knit squad of young policemen looked like a classical Greek military phalanx in battle formation as it slowly pushed its way into the Chamber of Parliament last Friday. Inside the phalanx, crouched Speaker of Parliament Karu Jayasuriya, caught up in probably the most bizarre escapade of his political life.
Indeed, the police squad seemed to actually fulfil that aggressive role of a charging combat formation: the constables were not there to quell a severe disturbance but, rather to capture physical parliamentary territory to provide Speaker Jayasuriya with the semblance of a ‘podium’ in the House. Ensconced behind the police squad and protected by makeshift shields from the makeshift missiles hurled by rival MP groups, the Speaker then proceeded to conduct a session of such sensitivity and importance that citizens watching in the gallery surely wondered why it had not simply been postponed for a quieter moment.
Although ‘quiet’ was the very thing that was needed to hear the call of a vote on the proposed Motion of No Confidence against the Government, the Chamber ambience was anything but ‘quiet’. The nation must wonder how serious the Parliament had regarded the proposed Motion of No Confidence to be, given that a vote was called in such chaotic conditions with the deployment of a squad of police.
Having fought a war against terrorism to defend territorial integrity, the nation surely does not want even a semblance of military force used in the very centre of civilised political decision-making, and done so to physically enforce a legislative exercise – and that, too, to ensure democratic governance. It is usually only crude dictatorships, seeking to disguise their brutish rule, that force through legislative acts by deploying uniformed personnel (amid protesting legislators) in the halls of governance.
In these more relaxed times, the Parliament administration itself has the autonomy to request and deploy police – to ensure suitably dignified conditions for political deliberation and decision-making. In Friday’s moment of Sri Lankan democracy, the police seemed to have been used to physically force through legislative business.
And did the nation watching, actually hear a clearly shouted ‘yes’ vote amid the confusion and slogan shouting by protesting MPs?
President Maithripala Sirisena, who had readily agreed with parliamentary leaders that a second vote be held on the Motion, had even requested that, to get the most accurate vote count, a vote by name be taken rather than again opting for a voice vote. After all, it was Thursday’s resort to a voice vote amid much noise and confusion that had led to the need for another parliamentary session due to the complete lack of clarity about Thursday’s vote result.
The parliamentary session on Friday afternoon was a special session convened amidst one of the most difficult political stand-offs in the history of post-colonial Sri Lankan governance. The sudden withdrawal of the SLFP-UPFA from the National Unity governing alliance had crippled the coalition regime. The already strained relations between the two main coalition partners, the SLFP and the UNP, compelled the President to seek the next best option for the government – the broad coalition, the ‘Joint Opposition’ led by former President Mahinda Rajapaksa.
President Sirisena subsequently clearly explained the sequence of political developments and explained to the citizenry that he had actually considered other political leaders from within the National Unity partners. But he had not been able to get a favourable response from among those he approached.
What is needed is a calming of tempers and a firmer grip on both emotions as well as ambitions that we return to the civilised practices of democratic governance.
The problem with our basic law is that it has not been consistently formulated by a collectively focussed society specifically seeking to build a state system by means of a carefully obtained consensus. Rather, both, the first and second Republican Constitutions were pushed through by governing political alliances that already possessed a legislative clout of over two-thirds of the parliamentary vote and, therefore, did not bother to build the widest societal consensus that included not just the parliamentary opposition but also groups outside Parliament that represented various social interest groups, especially, minority groups.
Its 5/6th governing majority in Parliament enabled the UNP leadership of the time to push through a highly centralised executive presidential system of government in 1978. In the ensuing decades, the nation has seen numerous, hurried attempts to amend the constitution either to reduce the degree of centralised power or, by some leaders, to even further consolidate autocratic presidential rule. Sri Lanka’s constitution is more a tool for holding on to power rather than a tool of consensus-based governance and a balance of power between social interest groups and the state.
The 19th Amendment that was passed with much fanfare under the Sirisena-WIckremesinghe regime is an example of such hurried tinkering with our basic law. Meanwhile, the provisions framing the election system and parliamentary governance enable the unseemly ‘jumping’ between political parties and between Government and Opposition by individual MPs in blithe disregard for their original electoral mandate from their voters.
President Sirisena will persist with this process of detailed consultation among all parliamentary parties. Ultimately, common sense should persuade those concerned with proper governance to opt for that ultimate solution – the vote by the citizenry in a general election.