Yasaratne, the gentle giant of Divulgane

The Jak tree behind Yasaratne's house
where a giant encountered a giant

There’s a human-elephant conflict to which various solutions have been proposed and implemented to no avail. There is a human-human conflict too. There are periods of relative peace and war and tenuous ways of coexistence. This is a human-elephant story and also a human-human story. 

Divulgane is a reservoir off the Galgamuwa-Moragollagama road. It is also a village. In this village lives a man named Porakara Mudiyanselage Yasaratne Banda, a prematurely retired teacher. ‘Yase,’ a friend I’ve known him for more than 30 years, lives among elephants who raid raid his and other neighboring villages, displaced as they are from their traditional homelands. Yase had an elephant story. This is the gist of what he said in Sinhala. 

‘There is a Jak tree behind our house. There was one fruit just a foot or so above ground. My wife wanted to cut it but I suggested that we let it ripen on the tree itself. Now one day an elephant came by. We told the elephant to go away. It didn’t. It had already consumed some of the smaller fruit and had broken off the one we had left for ripening. So I told the elephant that since the fruit had already been picked, it might as well be eaten. We went back into the house.

‘The following morning we saw the elephant’s work. It had split the fruit and had consumed one half. He had picked just the madulu and had left the seeds neatly by side of the half he had left behind. My wife and I pointed out to our children that they, unlike the elephant, throw the seeds all over and make a mess of things when they eat Jak.’ 

Not all elephants are as thoughtful, obviously. Some attack and kill villages. They destroy houses and ‘drink’ the paddy. And we don’t know if this particular creature understood what the humans who had encroached on the lands of its herd told him. Still, it was some story. 

Thirty three years ago when I first met him Yase told me that people in his village pay a nidi-badda (sleep tax) of two rupees a night. ‘For a mosquito coil,’ he said. He  always had stories to tell. And he always had things to give. We had stopped by on our way to Reswehera. It was around 9 o’clock in the morning. ‘Come back for lunch,’ he said, after giving us some boiled corn cobs for a snack. Our mutual friend, Thilak Bandara, who is from a close by village said ‘Keep it simple — some dhal and amunakola (referred to as angunakola in other parts of the country) would do.’ 

It was a feast. There was dhal, amunakola, fish, brinjals and papadam. ‘The amunakola and batu (brinjals) are from our garden,’ he said, adding that they didn’t use vasa-visa (chemical inputs).

We spoke about our lives (I was seeing him after 10 years), our children and friends. His son Tharindu loves to draw and his daughter Samadhi has chosen Tamil as one of her OL subjects. ‘She wanted to learn Japanese, but I told her that it would be better to learn a language that’s spoken in our country,’ said his wife, Indrani, who teaches art in a nearby school. 

As I said, Yase is generous. He gave us a sack of corn cobs. ‘There’s fifty there,’ he said. ‘We can’t eat all this!’ I said. ‘You can give it to your friends,’ he suggested. There were also four wood-apples. ‘Fresh from the tree,’ he remarked. 

He came up to the wicket fence to see us off. He was all smiles. And that was the most beautiful thing about that day. And the most heart-breaking too. For although he was smiling, he was looking somewhere else. 

The following incident would explain the sadness I felt. 

Ten years ago, a group of friends attending Thilak’s father’s funeral in Galgamuwa, decided to go see the mother of another friend, I.M. Senanayake aka Senevi. Senevi’s mother, then over 80 years old, had always been kind to us whenever we visited as undergraduates. She lived in Divulgane. Naturally, I inquired after Yase, who I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Senevi said he should be home but that he might not recognize me. I went over. 

He didn’t recognize me. When I mentioned my name, he smiled. 

‘I heard you had come with your friends. I am unable to give something to everyone, but I have something for you.’

He picked a sack of kurakkan and went to the back of the house where he had a make-shift grinder. I followed him. He groped on the wall to find the switch. And then I realized. Yase had lost his sight. Senevi said it had come (or gone) slowly: ‘Even in school, he held the books two inches away from his face.’ I didn’t ask him about it then and he didn’t tell me. It was not necessary. 

I wrote about Yase after returning home (‘A man, a pact and the earth-fragrance of Divulgane,’ published in the Daily News). He had made a pact with himself and the earth upon which he lived, I wrote. 

‘That place, Divulgane, has a fragrance about it.  No, it is not nostalgia-laced.  It is a goodness thing.  A kurakkan way of life, of being and sharing.  Of encounter and reunion. We all make covenants during our lives.  Some are mandatory, some unimportant. Some are sacred.  They are fragrant.  My friend Yasaratne has vacant eyes. His heart is full though.’

This time around, Yase spoke of his condition. 

‘I have written to Presidents. I even drafted a letter to Gotabaya Rajapaksa, before the election. It was about state employees forced to retire on medical grounds. Only the service period is taken into account when pensions are calculated. I suggested that the salary and other benefits be paid until the age of 60 or the pension be calculated considering a full tenure until the retirement age. I wanted the laws changed.’

There are for-and-against arguments of course. It hasn’t happened and it may not happen. 

Yase just lives. He picks the madulu and keeps the seeds aside neatly. He takes his half of things, he gives away the rest. He has a memory. He is an elephant and not one infected with marauding intent of some who belong to that saddhantha kulaya or giant tribe. He has lost his sight, but not his vision. 

‘This is how it is,’ he said. Simply. 

Yasaratne of Divulgane. A small man. Big heart. Empowered and empowering.  

This article was first published in the DAILY NEWS [December 25, 2019]

malindasenevi@gmail.com. www.malindawords.blogspot.com  

Other articles in the series titled 'In Passing...' :Katharagama and Athara Maga
Victories are made by assists
Lost and found between weaver and weave
The Dhammapada and word-intricacies
S.A. Dissanayake taught children to walk in the clouds
White is a color we forget too often
The most beautiful road is yet to meet a cartographer

The Eldest: a story written on face and in eyes

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Towards an intersection of ‘Rule of Law’ and ‘Tradition’

Rule of Law. That was a yahapalana howl. The howl would quickly diminish to a whimper when the Yahapanalists carried out the Central Bank Bond Scam. The Yahapanalists went deaf and dumb over the dozens of people who died while under police custody. 

It’s not surprising. They know of Thajudeen but not of the thousands burnt alive during UNP governments. They know of Ekneligoda but not of Satyapala Wannigama. They talk of Lasantha but not of Richard. So, Rule of Law, is for them a demand and aspiration that surfaces when political fortunes are in decline, or as it is now, at zero.  

Sri Lanka has a political culture which makes for howls when in the Opposition and look-aside when in Government. Politicians and loyalists, therefore, get their knickers twisted when expressing outrage. 

The latest is the arrests of former ministers Patali Champika Ranawaka and Rajitha Senaratne. It is claimed Senaratne suddenly fell ill (very much like all politicians of all parties who are arrested and duly fall so seriously ill that they have to be transferred to the prison hospital). Maybe he did fall ill. Maybe he is so sick that hospitalization was necessary. However, none who talked of ‘Rule of Law,’ ‘Good Governance,’ and ‘Established Procedure’ have raised even a whine about Senaratne absconding. 

Ranawaka’s case is different. The anti-Ranawaka commentators have called the incident a hit-and-run affair. This is misrepresentation. Claims that he did not even inquire about the condition of the person who was injured is also a deliberate lie. The truth is that Ranawaka’s vehicle was hit from behind. The injured party’s condition was looked into. We don’t know what kind of agreement was reached between the two parties. We don’t know why the case was ‘closed’ but we can reasonably surmise that it was re-opened as much for political reasons as for the pursuit of truth and justice. 

What he is accused of has nothing to do with a traffic accident. He is charged with having deliberately misled the law. There’s talk of Ranawaka lying about who was driving his vehicle at the time, that he got his driver to ‘stand in’ for him etc. The court will no doubt get to the bottom of all this sooner or later. 

If indeed Ranawaka did the hanky-panky it is certainly a grievous wrong and grievously will he have to pay for it, at least in political terms. If convicted and released after punishment is meted out, Ranawaka will be ridiculed by his political opponents each time he appears in a television debate. All claims he makes will be prompt reference to claims made relating to this incident. In the event he is found guilty, the best course of action would be for Ranawaka to come clean, admit that he did wrong, that he panicked and that he has paid the price in full. To his credit he has not feigned illness and sought a transfer to more comfortable surroundings. 

What is interesting in all this is the behavior of the Speaker. Karu Jayasuriya, after visiting Ranawaka in prison has stated that he did so only because ‘normal procedure was not followed when Ranawaka was arrested, given the fact that he is a parliamentarian.’  

It would have been better for Jayasuriya to simply say something on the following lines: ‘I am not contravening any law by visiting anyone in prison. Ranawaka is a friend. I am not demanding that the law be relaxed in his case.’ Instead, he talks of ‘tradition.’  

Tradition? Is that part of the law now? What are these ‘traditions’ violated in Ranawaka’s case but upheld in the arrests of people like Udaya Gammanpila and Tissa Attanayake? Sure, there are courtesies of informing the Speaker; but courtesy is not a necessity, it is up to the discretion of the Police. And now the Speaker talks of summoning the IGP to demand explanation! 

Perhaps an extreme example would help sort this thorny issue of parliamentary privileges, established procedure and traditions that Jayasuriya talks about. What if MP X is involved in a sword fight or, like in a Western movie, a shoot-out with another MP, Mr Y. What if there’s injury or even death? What if the Police arrives just as X and Y are slashing off each other’s noses or bury bullets in each other’s bodies? What if X and/or Y, injured but still clinging to weapon decides to flee the scene?  Is the Police required to make a quick call to the Speaker, hope that he answers and then arrest the thug(s)? 

Had Jayasuriya simply said ‘He’s a friend and I just wanted to check on him,’ it would not be as ‘political’ as implying ‘damn it, there was injustice in this arrest!’ In either case the impartiality associated with his office would be questioned, but in the latter, by trying to give a convoluted justification, Jayasuriya has essentially said, ‘I am partial to the United National Party!’ 

[Not that we need to believe the man is impartial of course. His conduct in votes of no-confidence against the UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe and Mahinda Rajapaksa were so starkly different that no one should believe he is neutral.]

Vendetta. Politically motivated. Political victimization. These too are terms that are tossed around, typically by Colombots (aka Kolombians, Candlelight Ladies, Funded Voices and Born Again Democrats) who are either openly supportive of the UNP or are closet loyalists. Perhaps they hadn’t heard these terms when the Yahapalana Regime were putting their political opponents behind bars, instructing investigators to look for evidence with a view to arresting such people and using the state-owned media to concoct stories founded on the patently flawed premise of ‘accusation is coterminous with guilt’? 

That’s also ‘traditional’ isn’t it? People are tried by the mobs. They are tried by partisan media outfits. The act is one thing, narrative is another. The first has to be assessed by the law, the latter needs no such referents. 

So it is a circus. There is a positive though. Political connections can get you a break. Political enmity can put you in a soup. The best thing, therefore, is to try to operate within the law and if there is infringement (as in the case of a traffic violation), then do the humble thing: submit to the law, let ‘due process’ take you where it will.  

It is best that laws are robust. It is best that law enforcement is marked by a high level of professionalism. It is best for there to be absolutely no political involvement. It is best that certain cases are not focused on because they could hurt political opponents or that there are no surreptitious acts that allow others to be postponed because those who could get hurt happen to be loyalists. 

Now if that was the ‘tradition’ then we won’t hear people howling about Ranawaka getting a raw deal. We wouldn’t have to talk about Senaratne making even more a clown of himself than he did with his bearded white van drivers. And we wouldn’t have Karu Jayasuriya, a decent man who has for the most part conducted himself with dignity, slipping on procedural plantain-skins and appearing to be out of sorts, to put it mildly.  

However, if we are to push ‘tradition’ to that level, then the principle ‘equality before the law’ has to be strictly applied. All cases related to politicians of all political parties should be taken up with the same rigor. Investigations should not be lax in one case and intense in another. Courts should not have different timetables for hearing different cases.  

We haven’t got to that Moment of Tradition yet. It can and will happen only when ‘tradition’ serves only to affirm and not bend Rule of Law.  That’s something President Gotabaya Rajapaksa should think of.  

malindasenevi@gmail.com

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Presidential Raids: Perhaps necessary but certainly not sufficient

Much has been said of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s unannounced visit to the Department of Motor Traffic in Werahera. For some it is a publicity stunt. There’s no denying the fact that efforts such as this to get people on their feet to serve the public have done his image no harm. Indeed anything that can even for a little while get things moving in any state institution would be considered good. Appreciated. 

What is sad is the indictment on public service that’s embedded in both act and assessment of act. Simply put, if there are jobs, there are job descriptions; if there are job descriptions the assumption is that employees would deliver on expectations. If they do not, it means there’s either a culture of impunity for sloth or the relevant leadership is ineffective. In other words, people can get away with being lax. They can be rude and they can give the public the run-around.

Does this mean that our entire public service is the pits? No. Understaffed and overworked in not-so-pleasant working conditions, the state hospitals offer much better medical care than any private hospital. The Registration of Persons Department and the Immigration and Emigration Department have streamlined operations to levels unthinkable a few years ago. There are committed public servants in almost all spheres, working tirelessly to ensure service-delivery. They think beyond salary and promotion. They think beyond the target group and encompass ‘the future’ in their deliberations. And for all the hosannas sung to the efficiency of the private sector few talk about how many companies go out of business every single day. 

Despite all this, we are far away from where we ought to be. The problem is that we aren’t close to where we can be. If some departments are efficient, it is hard to understand that inefficiency in other departments cannot be corrected. Sometimes it needs a push. Maybe that’s what the President believes. ‘Get one moving and the others will follow,’ is a decent enough plan. 

It is obviously not enough. A president is not a policeman or a work inspector. Clear rules, delivery-based rewards and an alert and even demanding public are what will make a difference. In most cases rules are probably in place. If they are not affirmed and enforced, they cease to count. Non-affirmation and non-enforcement should not go unnoticed nor without penalty. The active involvement of the public is also important. The President and the government can facilitate all this. If the Department of Motor Traffic can be moved to introduce a system where applicants are informed through sms that their license is ready for collection, it cannot be impossible to have people’s complaints recorded and acted upon.  

In all this, over the years, it is the public that has been least assertive. Cultures of sloth are fed by cultures of submission. Part of it is of course a sense of helplessness, but where there’s no contestation at all, helplessness and arrogance get strengthened even more. 

President Rajapaksa needs the officials. He needs the people too. Raids won’t turn things around, even if they start turning wheels. Turning wheels can grind to a stop if wheel-turners go to sleep. He can’t turn all wheels. It’s the rules and their application supported by responsible citizenship that will keep wheels turning. 

He wants a ‘working nation’. He wants to make the nation work. Well, the nation is made of all structures, all laws, all resources, all processes and all people. It is a tough ask to get all the pieces in place and have them all well-oiled and working. Sometimes a splendid example gives impetus. Example is an important aspect of leadership. A few honest, capable and determined people can do a lot. Given unfavorable conditions — weak laws, weaker enforcement, cultures of sloth, ingrained inefficiency and public apathy — we can quickly find solace in ‘something is better than nothing.’ Gotabaya Rajapaksa, however, doesn’t seem to be the kind of leader who is looking for consolation prizes. 

He has 6.9 million people behind him. Apart from them, there are also probably several hundred thousands who will appreciate the efforts he is taking. Their continued support is important. That support should be expressed in ways other than raucous applause. Easy to cheer, harder to work — it’s as simple as that.  

Anyway, he has made a point. He has put people on their toes. The message should be heard by all departments, all public officials and all citizens. 

He cannot turn things around by himself. We can turn things around. All of us. And that includes being honest with him. A wrong turn should be called ‘a wrong turn,’ instead of prompting silence or navel-gazing. 

Gotabaya Rajapaksa has ‘raided,’ if you want to put it that way. Well, we could raid too — no, not institutions such as the Department of Motor Traffic but the bad habits of our everyday. That’s where the true struggles must take place. That’s where we can engage effectively with systems and officials that are corrupt and/or inefficient. It’s not for Gotabaya. It is for ourselves. For now and well into the future.  

This article was first published in the SUNDAY MORNING (December 29, 2019)

malindasenevi@gmail.com 

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Sickness: a politician’s preserve?

Looks like he's having the last laugh!

Politicians are sick. I’ve heard people say that. It is an unfair statement if only because it is a generalization. Nevertheless, politicians can be like a corrosive cancer given the impact that their arrogance, ignorance and incompetence have on society in general. Not all, not some, but most, most would agree. 

On the other hand, if those who are elected are a reflection of electors and if the adage that people get the politicians they deserve is true, then it would mean people themselves are unwell, so to speak. In other words, belief that accountability is not important and that integrity is just a meaningless word, is a general corrosive which infect politician and non-politician alike. 

It can’t be that simple. Institutional arrangements made for the most part by politicians, a system that encourages certain kinds of people to contest elections but not others, and a considerable distance between the represented and the representative do give politicians pride of place in the blame register. 

We are talking of sickness, though. We all fall ill. Sickness can hit us at unexpected moments. It’s the same with politicians. They too have common colds. They are infected by viruses. They can and do get heart attacks. Even the carcinogenic among them can be brought down by cancers. 

And yet, there’s something that defy the laws of average when it comes to politicians: they suddenly become unwell in the event court determines that they be remanded. Indeed, in some cases, they ‘fall ill’ when arrest appears to be imminent. Anticipatory deterioration of health, in Sri Lanka, seems to be as effective a precaution as anticipatory bail. 

We need to affirm the principle of presuming innocence, so we should not call arrested politicians rogues, murderers and such. That said, falling ill or feigning sickness has become par for the course in the case of politicians. It is a privilege others do not enjoy. 

It must be mentioned here that former minister Patali Champika Ranawaka is a rare exception, as was former Army Commander and now Field Marshall, Sarath Fonseka. Maybe their bodies are made of sterner stuff. Maybe their resolve is stronger. In any event, they stand in stark contrast to their parliamentary colleagues who have fallen foul of the law or are suspected to have done so. 

What’s strange about these sick politicians is that no one knows what their sicknesses are. Just the other day, former minister Rajitha Senaratne pleaded for anticipatory bail. The bail application was rejected. Twice, I believe. Then he disappeared. This was when a warrant was issued for his arrest. There was speculation that he was being protected by a powerful politician. That’s speculation. It was later found that he had been admitted to Lanka Hospital. No speculation there.   

What happened next is unclear. The reports have been contradictory. It was reported that prison officials had gone to move him to the prison hospital and later abandoned the idea. Who gave the directive, if indeed this is what happened? The court? A ‘powerful politician’? Let’s leave the ‘why’ out of it; that it happened this way is a serious concern. In the rush of it all, he was granted bail.

Now bail can be granted for many valid reasons. Ranawaka too was granted bail. Senaratne’s case is different because he bragged that he would not spend even five minutes in the Welikada Prison. Was that conviction of innocence? It cannot be, for the court ordered the police to arrest him. What made him so sure? Is it not contempt of court?

Question: what are the chances for a non-politician to get away with this kind of behavior? Answer: close to zero. 

What is really puzzling is that although such politicians fall ill, no one knows what the illness is. Is it that the court and police know and they don’t say anything on account of privacy considerations? Is it that court and police know what’s what, that politicians falling ill upon arrest is so common and it’s such a common lie that they don’t bother to pry? But they should, shouldn’t they?

If Champika Ranawaka’s fault, as per charges, is misleading the law, then feigning illness cannot be ‘ok’.  A few weeks ago when a Swiss Embassy was steadfastly thumbing its proverbial nose at Rule of Law, Due Process and such, trying to prevent police from questioning an employee who claimed to have been abducted because ‘her health was deteriorating,’ court would have nothing of it. Court moved. The police moved. She was duly arrested, questioned and examined by medical professionals. 

Sure, we still know nothing of her medical condition. All we know is that the Swiss have backtracked quite a distance from an untenable and arrogant position, consumed humble pie and even saluted the Sri Lankan government for upholding good governance and rule of law. Maybe that’s diplo-deal if you will, and good enough to let pass. Is Senaratne’s case a deal, a politico-deal, then? Is that something we can or should let pass? If in the face of what was called a diplomatic row that could have serious fallout for Sri Lanka the government could throw chapter, verse and book at the Swiss, what’s preventing the same government from applying the same operational principles to Rajitha Senaratne?

Clearly, this sickness is more political or rather a creature of a political culture than about viruses, poor metabolism and the like. It can only be cured by affirming at all times and in all circumstances the primacy of the law. Bend it for a friend or out of pity once and that’s precedence and worse, a habit that the ‘giver’ is likely to avail him/herself of when in reduced circumstances. 

Something has been bent. A short-cut has been taken. Like bending and short-cutting that has happened during previous regimes. But why? A cheque being cashed? Old friendships being remembered? Future profits, political and otherwise, anticipated? 

There’s good reason to brush aside privacy concerns and find out what was really wrong with Rajitha Senaratne. The reason: equality before the law. If getting admitted to a hospital on a whim or because a doctor’s kindness has been sought and granted allows a wanted man to avoid a prison cell, if illness is a ‘wild card’ that can be used to have a more comfortable incarceration, then such privileges should be available to one and all. It cannot be the politician’s preserve. That’s sick. 

This article was first published in the DAILY MIRROR [January 2, 2020]

malindasenevi@gmail.com

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The recruitment conundrum: loyalty and competence are not coterminous

Few appointment to state institutions escape criticism. This is natural in a country where meritocracy spices rhetoric but rarely gets inscribed in recruitment processes. It is not easy for the right person to be place in the right position even when there’s no political involvement. People can move up the ranks. The years inevitably confer seniority. However, where training and assessment are absent or inadequate, being seniority cannot be taken as proxy for competence.  

Political appointments. Political appointees. That’s been the name of the game for decades in Sri Lanka when it comes to top posts in the state sector. A new government, naturally, would be wary of retaining the services of people appointed from outside the particular service. Such persons typically tender resignations when governments change. New governments naturally treat with suspicion officials within the particular service who have been promoted for reasons of political loyalty or who have compromised the integrity of the service by politicking.

It boils down to trust. Mistrust quickly slips to a preference for ‘our people.’ Competence becomes secondary.  Winning elections and obtaining control over the administrative apparatus are two different matters. The former naturally imposes a desire for immediate action with respect to the latter. And so, appointments are made. The fundamental problem of establishing rules to ensure competence and the promotion of the same take a back seat.

In this context, two moves by the new president are encouraging. First, he appointed a committee to examine applications for top posts in state institutions. Secondly, he promised that performance will be reviewed and that after the completion of a year delivery and not friendship will be what ensures tenure. One can argue about the competence of the committee itself, but it is certainly better for such a body to be vetting applications rather than a leader serving posts to political loyalists.  

Nevertheless it is but a stop-gap approach to the business of recruitment. Even as the President does the best he can in a poor political culture, it would be good to consider a full overhaul of the system. 

We have  salary structure which does not encourage the best minds to apply for state jobs. That’s something that has to be revisited, but that’s not enough. As of now we have various exams to recruit cadres to various services. Thousands apply. A few get selected. We can reasonably assume that those who do get in are better in terms of IQ, language skills and subject knowledge than those who do not, or else that they prepared better. Impose a cut-off mark and it’s easy to separate the two categories and call those who do get in ‘the top of the class.’  

How tough are these exams though? Are they all complemented by interviews where the candidates are tested on language competence, disposition, knowledge of the world and of the land, history, heritage, new discoveries etc? Well, it used to be that way at least when people were recruited for the Ceylon Civil Service. There have been cases where people who scored high in the exam failed the viva. 

Provided that the salary structure issue is sorted (and that’s easier said than done!), we can have a single recruitment system for all services. India, for example, does not have separate exams for the administrative and foreign services. Candidates’ choice is taken into account after the full cadre complement is selected. We could have a single exam for administrative, foreign, planning, inland revenue and other services.’ Choice, cadre requirement and other factors could be used to slot the successful candidates to the various services.  

Then comes training. Off and on governments recruit graduates and willy nilly distribute them among various institutions. Naturally, they can’t be expected to have a reasonable understanding of the social, economic, political and other factors that relate to the work of the particular institution. Time does that. Training too.  

A few months ago, over 100 ‘Graduate Trainees’ attached to the Department of National Community Water Supply were put through a rigorous training program in Passara, Badulla. Resource persons from the Department, officials handling the Water Safety Plan of the Water Board, the INGO Solidaridad  and UNICEF lectured them on various aspects related to their work such as safe drinking water, climatic conditions, water quality, conservation of water sources, issues related to ownership of water sources, and alerted them to the importance of economic, social, cultural and environmental factors. They were then divided into groups and sent to communities in the area and tasked to map water sources and obtain relevant information pertinent to the subject. Finally, they had to share findings with colleagues and trainers. 

Such things happen, but not across the board. Typically it is the initiative of the head of the particular institution that counts. It has to be systematic and comprehensive. It cannot be one-off affairs. We need to put in place long and tough training program that creates a cadre of knowledgeable, committed and empathetic officials in all services, and regular upgrading of skills through re-training. This has to be coupled with a solid system of key performance indicators tied to promotion and salary increments. It would help take ‘ad hoc’ out of the recruitment equation. 

The easier path is what successive governments have adopted: The ‘Our People Method’. ‘Our people’ are low on delivery and high on sunshine stories. ‘Our people’ make sure ‘Their people’ aren’t able to scuttle things. However, scuttling things is not a ‘their people’ preserve. It comes from arrogance, incompetence, ignorance and the sloth produced by comfort zones. It would be far better to review performance, identify the doers, retain their services and impose delivery-driven systems of reward.

The issue I believe is the fact that ‘our’ has been mis-defined. ‘Our’ for any government should be about people capable of delivery and certainly not political loyalty. There’s a manifesto. There’s a mandate. Loyalty is a fine trait. It is useful, however, only if it comes with particular competency for particular tasks.  

Gotabaya Rajapaksa seems to be determined. He wants a working nation, not a slothful one. He wants to do things differently. Let’s see.

This article was first published in the DAILY MIRROR on December 26, 2019.

malindasenevi@gmail.com. www.malindawords.blogspot.com.

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